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Blood Ties	By : maiafay376 Category: +S through Z > Silent Hill Views: 6706 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Dreams, Henry, and descending into madness...
--------------------Chapter 7: Besieged--------------------
Wednesday
He had painted long into the night, pausing only once to play audience for the couple�s requiem. His muse retreated in that moment, allowing his attention to focus upon the chaos and shrieking that rose from the next room. He stood there as they died for the fifth time, his face ashen and his brush frozen over the canvas. He pressed his lips together as their agony reached its zenith. His eyes closed his eyes in remorse, and he felt such a violent frustration that he wanted to rip something to pieces.
I�m sorry�I can�t help you�I�m so sorry�
Painting was the only solace granted, but it seemed his muse desired respite. She stayed hidden, snuggling inside his core like a drowsy kitten, and with a tooth-filled yawn and a twitch of her tail, she curled and slept--leaving him facing the stark reality of his predicament.
He felt drained and his fingers cramped from the constant painting. His vision blurred as he staggered to the couch, and he fell upon it as dizziness overcame him. He was so tired; his body felt abused, battered like a soldier at war. Overcome with the trials of the past week, Daniel fell into a heavy sleep.
His dreams were like curling wisps of smoke: images glided and swooped into focus, and then retreated as soon as they emerged. He buoyed through this gossamer landscape, rising and falling into dark places and misty worlds. Contorting shapes surrounded him, and he heard strange cries in the shadows--cries of suffering, anguish. All embraced him, slipping inside, brushing, caressing--stirring lust and revulsion.
A stone hall swam into existence, building itself out of ash and rust. It stretched endlessly forward and echoed with distant cries of the lost. Walls twisted and formed on either side as he walked, the surface solidifying into cracked granite. Moisture coated the walls like sweat, and the sound of dripping water chimed low. The scent of blood was strong here, an invisible miasma that glazed the walls and seeped unseen into the floor. The air itself wept red.
Nude, with body glistening and pale, Daniel glided forward, his hair floating as if underwater and his eyes staring sightlessly ahead. Energy circled him and through him--a black fire that he could not see--but he could feel it. It rolled and strained against his flesh; a cold, formless power that repulsed as much as it enticed.
There were doors here. Hundreds of them; all lining the corridor as far as the eye could see. Some were crisscrossed with thick chains and many were bolted with nails as large as hands; others had no knobs, and some were even indiscernible from the wall itself. But, Daniel knew they were there. He knew worlds lay beyond each one--beautiful, terrible, with laws and magic all their own. The enormity of this place daunted his awareness, and he felt so insignificant as he walked. His hands trembled and he felt his nudity keenly.
A scraping sound in the distance; ruddy light shone on a stone alter before him, the heavy slab rotating as if on a slow turntable. Nothing supported its weight--only darkness lay beneath. Shadows played upon the embossed surface, the archaic scribe and etchings visible even from where he stood. A low hum vibrated, the air shivering above the surface like heat.
He approached in caution but his fear diminished the closer he came. His movements slowed and grew languid. He knew exactly what to do when his hand brushed the surface and he felt the age and weight of the stone--the dark power throbbing within.
In a fluid motion, Daniel eased himself up and over the slab. He closed his eyes and eased his body down. It felt right somehow�inherent, as if he was meant to offer himself in this manner.
His mind drifted as he lay there, the stale wind caressing his body and ruffling the hair around his face. Warmth flowed inside like molten liquid, and his limbs felt heavy, weak. He sensed the altar slide forward. The motion caused his stomach to flutter, but he did not open his eyes. The scent of blood increased and mingled with the underlying scent of decay-- the sharp aroma of metal and dirt. Parting his lips in displeasure, he tried to lift his hand, but the limb remained useless at his side. That gliding motion again, and this time the slab quivered unsteadily, as if cumbersome horses pulled it forward. His awareness returned and the spell that held him retreated, making him feel cold. Moaning, Daniel opened his eyes.
Instead of darkness and metal doors--he saw the outline of his hallway. The creamy walls moved along with his body as something tugged him over the carpet. His shirt bunched around his chest as he moved, baring his torso and rug burns inflamed the skin along his back. He came instantly awake, the altar and blood scent dissipating as he jerked his head forward in surprise.
�Valtiel� had his legs grasped tight within its malformed hands, diligently dragging his body into the living room. Daniel made a stunned noise, his arms flapping as he tried to grab onto something. Fuck�fuck! He managed to snag the end of the couch, his desperate fingers digging under the rim, and then held on for dear life. The grip around his ankles became vice-like and Valtiel turned its faceless head, regarding Daniel before giving one thoughtful, and savage jerk forward. Daniel yelped and almost lost his hold on the sofa. His eyes widened as the space behind the creature broke open.
Like a wound, the windows and wall of his apartment oozed apart, falling into darkness and left a gaping hole behind. Instead of sky and buildings--he saw the corridor from his dream, doors beckoning, water dripping, and that altar far, far in the distance, spinning in a lazy circle. The rancid smell hit him then--copper and stone, the tang of wet dirt, and dead things that lingered. Voices swirled into the room, sighing in pain, sadness, their presence causing the air to freeze and Daniel�s stomach to twist. He scissored his legs, pulling closer to the couch and started to scream. �No! Get off! Get the fuck off me!�
Edges of the hole cracked wider, pieces rising like bubbles in black champagne. The fragments hit his ceiling and splattered, ebony rivers fanning overhead. He panicked as the other walls began changing, the taint invading the floors and furniture until they warped before his eyes, contorting with decay.�No! No! LEAVE ME ALONE! LET ME GO!�
And the creature did.
He grunted with astonishment as his feet slapped the floor; Valtiel straightened its spine and stared at him with what Daniel perceived as patience, as if it was in no hurry to complete its task and would wait until he was less troublesome. It cracked its neck with a bird-like motion, its movements concise, almost meditative. With face fluttering, it sauntered into the hole. Reality reformed as it passed, until soon, his windows and walls returned to normal--not a black stain in sight.
With fingers tingling, Daniel groaned and slumped to the floor. That smell still lingered, and he knew he�d be stuck with it for a while with no ventilation. His body shook as he sat up, his breathing ragged. He stared at the wall for a long time, trying to understand what had just happened. Somehow, his dream had manifested, and that Valtiel creature attempted to drag him off into that world. Why? Was that Mother thing there? Why did that place seem so�familiar?
He stood, his hands would not stop shaking, nor would his heart cease thumping wildly. The doll murmured inside the bathroom, and Daniel�s hand flew to his chest, then to his pocket.
The amulet was missing.
His balance failed him as he wobbled down the hallway. He heard scuffling sounds from the bathroom, and then the sound of his water cup hitting the floor.
The little bitch better pick that up�
A giggle erupted from his throat, but he smothered it. He was hysterical enough as it was, and he had a feeling that if he started laughing�he would not stop until he collapsed into a weeping mess.
He smacked the bathroom door as he passed, muttering crude phrases at the doll before stumbling into his bedroom. After he slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame, he walked toward his paintings. There were a total of four so far, one on his easel was half-finished, and the others were spread against the wall.
They were disgusting.
How could he paint such things? Daniel stared at the grotesque creations, feeling sick. He came closer to the one on his easel, revolted as he appraised what appeared to be decapitated �Fawns� flocking within a barren and decaying meadow. The trees around them were lifeless, with branches stabbing at the sky and with dead leaves that littered the ground. They had wings: ugly fleshy things, snaking with veins and sagging along their hindquarters. Each dainty hoof tapered to a sharp point, and appeared as if the Fawns walked upon blades. No hair adorned their bodies, only pink flesh, dappled in some areas with gray and white. Leaning closer,
Daniel narrowed his eyes at the nearest Fawn. Its chest budged in a peculiar manner. Inhaling sharply, he pulled back. A human face peeked between its forelegs, twisted with agony and mouth screaming. The other Fawns had them as well; each face unique, but each one with the same distorted expression.
The more he stared, the more he wanted to destroy it. He had meant to paint Walter--not a bunch of fucked up �Bambi� creatures.
In a violent flourish, he snatched the painting and broke it over his knee, tearing the canvas with his fingers. He moved to the next after destroying the first one, ripping the material from the wood backing, and scrapping his skin raw in the process. His breath expelled in harsh gasps as he tore into the remaining pictures, his disgust and fear making the motions frenetic.
With his paintings in tatters and hands bleeding, Daniel collapsed in a heap, the sound of his helpless cries giving way to weeping. When would this end? Until he went mad? Killed himself?
A thump from the next room, then scuffling. He choked back a sob and stared at the wall, blinking back tears to clear his vision. His fingers curled against the carpet as the sounds increased; the sound of furniture pulled and shoved. Another muffled thump, then someone cursed.
Daniel frowned. It didn�t sound like Walter.
�Eileen? Please, are you in there? I thought I heard someone crying. Are you hurt?�
He stared at the flower dresser in disbelief, inching forward on his hands and knees as the man continued to speak. Was it Henry? Daniel thought he recognized the soft tone of speech, the hesitance of his words.
�Eileen? I can�t see you�something�s blocking my view. Please, I need to see you�� Henry�s voice broke at the last word.
Daniel rose and pulled the flower dresser aside, baring the hole. A soft noise in surprise and more scuffling heard, anxious movements, as if Henry pressed his body against the wall. Pausing, Daniel wiped the tears from his face, and kneeled, darting his face forward to peer at the mysterious man.
A startled gasp and a flash of white blurred across his vision; Daniel focused on the slight male as he skittered away and bumped into the wall, his attractive face pinching with fear.
�Who--who are you?�
Daniel did not answer right away; instead, he squinted into the room, taking note of Henry�s surroundings before appraising the man himself.
Candle light doused the walls orange and thin shadows flickered along with the flames. The furniture seemed different from when Daniel saw Walter seated in the living room a few nights ago--less tattered and stained. Pictures hung upon the wall, but the details were fuzzy from where he knelt. His narrow view fell upon a storage box that Henry sat against. The lid was open and he could see an array of weapons peeking from the top: the handle of an axe, a golf club, the butt of a shotgun, and what appeared to be the tail end of a baseball bat--all jutted above the rim, as if Henry was searching through his stash before Daniel interrupted.
Henry fidgeted with a pistol in his hands, the make and model unknown to Daniel. He kept twirling and twirling it around, watching the hole warily from across the room. He looked about average height, medium build, with dark shaggy hair that hung over the tips of his ears and jade colored eyes. His shirt seemed off-white, but with the glow from the candles, it was hard to tell. Crimson flecks splattered one shoulder, and the bottom looked frayed and torn; more red blotched the faded blue jeans that he wore, and tuffs of dried grass clung to one of his dark shoes. Henry had ventured outside at one point, perhaps got into a scuffle or two.
Was it with Walter? How did he get outside?
�I said, who are you? And what are you doing in Eileen�s apartment?� His voice still held that tremor, but Daniel could tell he was trying to convey authority. It would have brought a smile to his face any other time, but now he was too tired to assuage unnecessary fears.
�This isn�t Eileen�s apartment anymore. I live here now�unfortunately.� Daniel said the last word with bitterness.
�What? No, that�s impossible!� Henry shook his head in denial. �I heard her the other day--I, I could have sworn--�
�You heard �me� Henry.� Daniel explained, enjoying the fact that he conversed with a normal human being, instead of a mother-loving serial killer. �I�ve been here for about two weeks. I heard you thumping around when I first moved in�crying from this room. I asked who you were, but you never responded. Then, the next day you gave me that amulet. I do have to admit, I don�t know how you mistook me for a female--since I certainly don�t sound girly, but I�m thankful for that necklace�it�s--it�s the only thing keeping me sane right now,� his voice wavered, and he looked back at the torn canvases, biting his lip. He was angry with his muse, she had double-crossed him somehow, making him paint those horrible things instead of what he had intended. But, what scared Daniel most was the fact he had no �recollection� of painting those images--the last eight hours were a blur.
Henry shifted, his expression embarrassed. �I�I�m sorry. I thought you were Eileen. I suppose that�s just stupid isn�t it--I mean, I should have known better than to hope�� His words faltered and he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. Daniel frowned, nudging his own trauma aside as he tried to comfort the other man.
�I�m very sorry Henry; Frank told me that she died two years ago. Attacked and beaten in her apartment. She died in the hospital--�
�She wasn�t beaten! He butchered her!� Henry shouted, his eyes going wild. It was so unlike his earlier demeanor--that Daniel blinked in surprise.
�Walter made her walk to that�thing. It-it tore her to pieces!� Henry drew his knees up, threading his hands through his hair and lowered his head in misery. Daniel thought he would start sobbing, but Henry composed himself, taking several deep breaths and swallowed. �I guess I should have known you weren�t Eileen,� he admitted in a dull voice, his eyes brimming with tears. �I saw her die--I witnessed her sliding into that black lake, shredding to pieces as I watched. But, I thought I could still save her, you know. I thought all I needed to do was to kill Walter--then everything would be fine; everything would be okay again�just like it was before he came.�
Henry sighed, and with some hesitation, began telling Daniel little bits and pieces of the events prior to Eileen�s death. Daniel sat with his back to the hole, listening to Henry talk and feeling both elated that someone was speaking to him, and sympathetic at what Henry had gone through. He could tell Henry had the same feelings, since the more he talked, the more relaxed he became. When his tale came to Walter�s �death� and his own imprisonment, Henry was candid. �I don�t remember what happened after that,� he said. �It was all a blur really. I still couldn�t leave my apartment. The chains came back�the windows wouldn�t open again. I had nowhere to go but back in that hole. And so I did. I went through and saw Walter--alive and well, not a scratch on him! I remembered feeling so angry...enraged. All I could see was her face�and know that she would never smile again, or laugh again. He took that all away.
�Naturally, our fight was nasty, and�well�I lost,� Henry laughed, the sound harsh and barking. �Now, I�m trapped here, in his world, running everyday--trying to stay one step ahead of him. Sometimes he catches me--sometimes he doesn�t. But, usually�he does.� Henry flinched with the memory, expelling a burdened sigh. �I don�t know why I�m telling you all this. I just want you to know how badly I wanted to see her again. Just to tell her I was sorry. No matter how stupid it seemed to me. But I forgot; I forgot this place makes you see things--hear things that you desire and fear most.
Daniel frowned at that, thinking about his fathers note. Did he desire contact with Old Ben that much? Did he somehow make that letter appear? He scratched his knee as Henry continued and mulled that thought over in his mind.
�When I heard you speak that night, I only heard Eileen�s voice,� Henry said. �My mind must have twisted it somehow--I guess I only heard what I wanted to hear. I�m sorry if I disturbed you in any way, I�m sorry if my notes freaked you out. I--I just want to apologize for that.�
Daniel stared at the other man as he shifted and his gaze flickered over the hole. Then Henry looked at the floor, his cheeks flushing.
He had no idea what to say; did Henry not understand that his amulet saved him? Without it, Daniel was certain that he and Walter�s Mother would be chatting right now, maybe performing some sort of friendly ritual sacrifice--with him as the victim.
He pressed his face to the hole. �Henry--Henry don�t you realize that your amulet saved me? I�ve been trying to tell you that. I ran into Walter on the very first night I moved in, and since then, it�s been one fucked up thing after another. I�ve been trapped since Friday, I-I think its Tuesday now; I�m running out of food, I can�t go into my bathroom and take a piss because some �Valtiel" thing wants to drag me to meet Walter�s Mother. Walter said he would break me, and that he knew about the amulet. He said it didn�t matter, that it wouldn�t save me. He sent this doll, and it keeps wearing the amulet down; I don�t think it will last much longer. I keep seeing things; I�ve painted these horrible pictures; I can�t open the windows�and it fucking smells now--it smells in here and I can�t get away from it!� Daniel shuddered, his voice breaking. His emotions overwhelmed him then, and he fell back, hiding his face in his hands.
�Hey�hey! Calm down�calm down, it�s okay�damn it! Here I am whining about myself when you have bigger problems; I�m such an asshole sometimes�I�m sorry.�
Daniel choked a laugh, but it died as soon as it was uttered. He heard Henry scooting closer to get a better look at him, but he dropped his gaze, ashamed at himself.
�Um�can you sit back for a second, so I can see you? All I�m getting is some black hair and your ear.�
�Oh, yeah sure. Sorry,� he gave another chuckle and eased himself away from the hole until his back was flush with Old Ben�s couch. �I have to warn you though, I look like shit. I haven�t had my sink bath yet.�
Daniel heard a soft sound of amusement, and the next moment, felt eyes upon him. He squirmed, aware of Henry�s scrutiny and remembered Walter doing the very same thing after his little solo session on Sunday night. He rubbed the back of his neck, face avoiding the wall.
�Can you look at me?�
Daniel jerked his head, startled into complying without realizing it. He blinked at the hole, and thought he could see Henry�s green eye staring past the sooty edges. He heard him swear then, his words a disgusted growl.
�Has a thing for brunettes doesn�t he?�
Daniel�s face warmed and he turned away, catching the innuendo. �He�s made overtures�but I�m not a willing plaything--let�s just leave it at that.�
�If he wants you�it doesn�t matter if you're willing. In fact, he enjoys a challenge--just so he can take what he wants. I can�t tell you how many times I�ve heard him rant about being �denied� in his former life, and that he deserves every pleasure he now craves. Nothing gets him off more than conquering someone who spurns his advances. Take it from someone who knows.�
�So, is that one of your �punishments�?�
�Among other things,� Henry muttered. �But let�s not worry about me, okay? I�m not going anywhere. You--on the other hand, have a chance to get out. I�m not certain why he�s stalking you, but what matters is that you haven�t flipped completely yet.�
�I feel like it�I feel like I�m going insane!� Daniel groaned, bumping his head against the couch.
�No, no, I mean, �flipped� as in flipping into this��otherworld.� This place that Walter created is invading your apartment. Things don�t look the same do they? You feel watched, stalked--and then you can�t even go outside! I was trapped for five days before the hole came�which reminds me, if one appears in your room--stay away from it!�
�Hole? I don�t have a hole--not unless you count that big gaping maw that Valtiel strolled into.�
�Valtiel?� Henry�s voice seemed bemused. �Now, who is that? Walter never mentioned him, and I haven�t seen anything like that around here.�
Daniel snorted with displeasure and told Henry everything about Valtiel: from the first day he saw the fugly, twitching creature in the mirror--to the dream that morning. His voice strained at several parts, especially when recalling the �blood licking� episode. When he was finished, Henry was quiet for several moments--so quiet, that Daniel was afraid he had left. �Henry? You�re still there, right?� he called.
�Yes. I�m here. Just thinking��
�Oh.�
Daniel waited while Henry thought, shivering as the temperature dropped. Another cold spot floated over him, and he snatched the blanket off the couch, wrapping it tight around his body.
�Cold?�
�Yeah, these drafts are coming all the time now�� he mumbled. �It�s like winter in here.�
�I�m sorry�Mr. er--hey, you never told me your name!�
Daniel looked up, and gave a small grunt. �Hey, you�re right. Sorry. It�s Daniel, Daniel Morgan.�
�It�s nice to meet you Daniel.�
�Likewise�even though this is a pretty messed up way to meet.�
�Yes, yes it is,� Henry said. Daniel heard him sigh, then thump the wall. �Okay, listen to me Daniel. I don�t know who or what this Valtiel thing is--but I need you to hang on�stay strong, okay? I�m going to give you some holy candles; I�m pretty sure they can fit through this hole. They do the same thing as the saint medallion, but don�t last very long. I broke my own medallion an hour ago. Walter�s been weird these last few days, sending anything and everything after me. I�ve haven�t had a moment until now. But I�ll find another; they�re always scattered about. When I find one, I�m coming straight here and giving it to you, okay?
�How can you give it to me Henry? I can�t leave, and it won�t fit under the door remember?� Daniel burrowed under the covers, the chill becoming intolerable. He looked around his room, watching for anything out of the ordinary. �Fuck. I think something�s happening again. It�s way too cold in here. Can�t you feel it?� Panic laced his voice, his breath quickening.
�Daniel, Daniel--calm down. Nothing�s happening. Walter�s using your mind against you. I said I felt the same things, remember? It�s a game to him.�
�Yeah, well, I�m sick of playing. I want out of here!�
�I know, I know�here, these will help for a while. But, don�t burn them all at once!�
�O-okay.� Daniel took in a quavering breath, crawling over to the wall and tugging the comforter along beside him. A moment later, tapered candles emerged from the hole, Henry having to shove them since the fit was snug. Daniel came forward and plucked all seven off the floor, gathering them into his arms and walked over to the dresser. He could feel Henry�s eyes on him again, observing, but did not mind this time.
�Oh, shit!�
Daniel turned and stared in alarm. �What? What is it?�
�Walter�s coming�the candles are blowing out! I have to go! Remember what I said, Daniel, stay strong--don�t let him win! I�ll find another medallion for you okay? I promise!�
�Wait�when will that be? Henry?�
No answer. Daniel came forward, stooping and then kneeling beside the hole. He peered through to find the room had gone dark, candles snuffed out and tenebrous smoke trailed from each wick. A figure stood in the middle of the room, his blue trench coat appearing black in the dim light. Daniel could see the Otherworld taint snaking from his feet, spreading like thin fingers over the walls and floor; everything it touched rusting and staining with blood. The figure shifted, dirty blonde hair falling from a pale face, and paler eyes fell upon the hole, glittering.
�Hello Daniel�been chatting have we? My Receiver certainly likes to talk when he wants to--never to me of course, but then again, I only want his screams.�
�Fuck you. Why don�t you just leave him alone?�
A lewd chuckle, and Daniel edged back until he reached the couch. The room grew colder, his breath stolen by the icy air. He watched the hole with guarded distaste, giving a sharp noise of protest as the scorch marks around it flared wider.
�Stop that! I won�t let you in! You can�t come in here!� he stammered, feeling foolish that the only weapon he had now were pretty white candles.
More laughter, �Poor little bird; has wings, but doesn�t know he can fly. You can�t keep me out. You can�t keep any of us out. The Hell Child, Valtiel--be thankful Daniel that we�re the only ones vying for your soul. It could be worse; you could have Judgment and Death at your doorstep.�
�Judgment and Death? Now what are you talking about?�
�Hmmm�fearsome creatures those two, Mother�s first warriors. They�re quite mad you know. Only they may wander the fields of torment--unchallenged.�
�If they are anything like you, then yeah, I�d rather not meet them.�
�Oh, no Daniel. They�re nothing like us. We and what�s left of the Hell Child are Mother�s chosen. Her elite.
Not even Judgment and Death may harm us�not unless Mother wishes it. �
�Great. That sounds nice, can you leave now?�
Mirthful laughter, and Walter said softly, �Forgive me little bird, you have worlds to create, doors to open--who am I to interrupt such genius? Just remember Daniel, Mother cares not for your sanity, or physical wellbeing. She will mend the pieces shattered--just as she did with me; in her world, death means only freedom, madness is enlightenment--heed my words, Child of Sin��
As he heard that familiar phrase, Daniel blanched as if slapped, flying off the couch to grab the flower dresser; shoving it over the hole as Walter tittered like a mischievous little boy. He snatched the candles from the other dresser, lighting two with matches that he kept in his sock drawer, and set them upon the floor. They were odd things, tall and thick, yet the bottoms flat like votive candles, making them easy to stand. He placed his glass palettes that he never used under each one, satisfied that the wax was contained.
He listened at the wall for further sign of Walter, but heard not a peep of laughter. His presence seemed also gone, and Daniel sighed in relief, stooping to pick up the torn canvases and threw them in the trash. The cold dissipated from the room until the air was lukewarm, but he still felt goose bumps rise when he changed clothes. He wore an outfit similar to Henry�s, but his socks remained mismatched, and the shirt was green. Pocketing the rusty saint medallion, he opened the door and ventured into the hallway.
The bathroom door was open; just a crack, but it creaked as he went by. Daniel faltered to a halt, and peered inside, appraising the mess of towels on the floor, his water cup (bitch hadn�t picked that up!) and toilet paper strewn about. No sign of the doll however, so he eased the door shut and entered the living room.
He kept alert for the doll's reappearance, his eyes shifting from one side of the room to the other. No sign of the demon toy. Was it gone? Daniel had doubts that it left so easily--and without a fuss. Perhaps the candles disturbed it somehow? He thought about going back and getting a few more, but decided against it. He wanted them for emergency only.
Early afternoon sun trickled through the blinds, falling in muted patterns upon the sofa. Daniel frowned at the windows, uneasy that the sun could not penetrate. The glass is dirty�that�s all, he tried to tell himself, but worried about it anyway.
He removed his shirt to wash his hair, bumping his head against the faucet and swearing each time. After washing private areas, he proceeded to shave, the whirling noise of his electric shaver breaking the thick silence of the apartment. But, he found comfort in these little things, even with something simple as grooming. It made him feel normal, human, and was a welcome distraction from this hellish prison.
When he finished, Daniel headed to the fridge, wondering what food he had left. He knew the pizza was gone, the lunchmeat dwindling, and the milk, he threw out yesterday. He supposed he could have some eggs, then finish off the lunchmeat for dinner and save the cereal for tomorrow.
Come on Henry�Melanie�Frank�someone get me out of here!
His mood souring, he opened the fridge, and jerked his head back the next instant, gagging. All his food had spoiled overnight: the eggs appeared black, crusty; the lunchmeat had mold growing on it. The little miscellaneous items such as cheese and mayonnaise were unsalvageable, the smell alone bringing tears to his eyes.
Daniel slammed the door shut, opening the cupboard to check his dry goods. He reached into the cereal box, and found the entire contents one sticky mess. Revolted, he snatched his hand away, throwing the box on the counter. His other food was the same: rotted, stale or moldy.
Shit! Shit, shit, shit!
He leaned against the counter, fighting the impulse to burst into tears again, and tried to concentrate on breathing. How long could he last without food? It was seven days or something, right? He knew he should have paid attention in survival class. The only thing he remembered was the three days without water. Wait--could he drink the water?
Panicking, he turned and ran the faucet, filling a cup full and took an experimental sip. It tasted fine: clear and crisp, with a hint of rust, but still normal. Somewhat relieved, but only just--he wandered into the living room, glancing at the clock as he looked out the window. Then he glanced again. Two AM? Daniel looked at the sun high in the sky, and then back at his clock. He picked it off the shelf and tinkered with it, shaking the device--then tossed it on the floor in irritation. Broken.
He gazed at the phone on the counter, apprehension twisting his gut. Was that broken as well? After pressing the receiver to his ear, the static and warbling dial tone reassured him.
While he had the phone in his hands, he called Melanie.
Her voice mail again, and Daniel stammered the same message, detailing that he talked to Henry and Walter. He omitted the event of Valtiel dragging him across the living room; since there was simply no way he could fit his entire experience within the time limit. He waited a moment before hanging up, expecting that whine or his so-called sister to materialize--but they never came. He was almost disappointed; his �sister� may be nuts, but at least she was another voice he could listen to.
A soft sigh tinkled from the easy chair, and he glanced over, his stomach seizing the next moment as the doll appeared out of thin air. He glared at her, his fingers seeking the saint medallion.
Wondered when you were going to pop up you evil little whore.
He approached her, the amulet vibrating in staggered increments, the cool power rapidly diminishing. Afraid suddenly, he stepped back--only to hear the metallic snap of the chain finally breaking.
With his breath hitching in dismay, he reached into his pocket, his hand finding nothing but a rusty disk, the pieces crumbling like sand. The doll giggled as if pleased and waves of heat radiated from her body, enveloping the chair and the surrounding area. He retreated as it swelled, the rippling energy warping the cushion beneath her, the upholstery staining red before his eyes. The TV sputtered on, distorted voices moaning, flickering images of death and torture lurching across the screen. Daniel even thought he saw Valtiel, the hulking creature dragging a female corpse down some decrepit hallway.
Pain erupted from his skull, the doll's black aura dancing before his eyes. He groaned and stumbled into the kitchen, holding his forehead in agony. Whatever field the doll projected, it not only damaged the immediate area, but was now affecting him as well.
Just like the last time�
He withdrew into the hallway and teetered into his bedroom, his pounding headache finding respite as soon as he smelled the holy candles. He slammed the door shut, and lit up another, setting it on the windowsill. Panting and sitting on Old Ben�s couch, he realized with horror that Walter had cornered him. Nowhere was safe--not the bathroom, the living room, and not even the kitchen.
He shuddered there for a moment, fear, anger, and rage all boiling inside, his sanity hanging by a fragile thread. Why don�t I just do what he wants? he reasoned. Just give in. I mean, how bad could his Mother be? It can�t be worse than it is right now�
These thoughts swirled within, rousing his sleeping kitten of a muse, and rocked her fully awake. With a gentle sigh, she spread her arms and enfolded his body with a dream-like lethargy, his mind sinking willingly into her warmth.
Its okay my darling�.just paint�everything will go away�no fear, no pain�just paint it all away�
He knew he should refuse; he knew that she was deceiving him. He would paint those ghastly pictures, filled with demons and blood--but he lacked the strength to resist her. All he wanted was to feel safe, with no worries or terror--no creatures in the mirror or his dreams. He wanted that solace again, and only she could give that.
He rose and garnered another canvas from his closet, setting it upon the easel. He arranged his paints with a blank face, but his eyes remained dreamy, already lost in the bliss his muse offered.
Thoughts of the doll, of Henry, of Walter and Old Ben faded away; his muse filling the holes left behind and coaxed his brush into life.
Make wonders darling�open the doors of heaven�
Thursday
He did not know what time it was: he only knew that the sun had set long ago. His muse released him long enough to listen to the screams from 302--then enfolded her pale arms around him again, whispering into his ear, breathing his dreams into reality.
Filling canvas after canvas, he set the finished paintings aside; all lined up against the wall like entries for some macabre gallery. He never paused to admire his work; just moved to the next painting, his fingers and brush sweeping over the surface, eager to create another vision of the grotesque. Paint stained his hands and arms, dripping onto the carpet and smudged over his chin. Earlier, his workflow had improved when he dragged the flower dresser from the wall, placing it close so he could access the colors without straying far from the canvas.
But, he was tiring. His eyes drooped with fatigue, and he swayed a bit as he painted. He heard the doll laughing from the living room, echoing from everywhere and nowhere�and approaching from the hall. He ignored it; focusing on the picture before him. A small sigh drifted to his ears; then something brushed his leg, tiny cotton hands resting upon his calf. Frowning, he shifted his weight and the hands fell away--the tinkle of laugher like dark bells.
Another bout of dizziness fell upon him, and the brush dropped from his hands. Diverted from his work, Daniel stared at the slender object, the coarse bristles stained red and his world tilting around him. His muse nuzzled his ear then, kissing the lobe tenderly, and infused his body with the energy needed. Desire and passion suddenly burned a swathe through his fatigue and melted all trivial needs until he blinked the haze away, and retrieved the brush. He resumed painting within moments.
When he was finished with the one on the easel, he set it by the others, reaching down to grab the next--yet, his hands came away empty. He blurted a noise of dismay, glancing down and saw every canvas he owned all propped against the wall, filled to the brim with dark creation. The spell retreated as he jerked his head about like an anxious bird, trying to find another surface--any surface to paint upon. He was not finished! There were still more doors to unlock!
She caressed his face then and her secrets floated into his ear, words as sweet as honey. The walls. Of course. How silly of him not to have thought of that.
He slid the tray table over to the nearest wall, and situated his colors before undertaking this newest challenge. Somehow, even after all his painting--the colors never ran out; he still used the very same containers from the moment his brush first hit the canvas, the flow mysteriously never ceasing, or running dry. A nagging doubt rose about his endless supply of paint, but it was not his place to question such things; he was a tool, a messenger to illustrate her black paradise. His muse could wield him as she pleased.
After moving the dresser out of the way, Daniel resumed painting with zealous exuberance, standing on his folding chair in order to reach the wall better. Whispers suddenly rose in the air, excited, delicate, and whirling in his ear like tiny butterflies. He ignored them of course: just as he ignored the child singing faintly in the background, her words low and sweet:
�In dreamless sleep,

she sighs and weeps,

For her chosen to come home.

Eyes golden, framed with light--

is holy Mother�s anguish shown.

Tears of suffering,

dark pools deep--

her lambs stray and roam

She waits, deep in sleep,

bearing sorrow all alone.

All sins cleansed, with fire and light,

on white wings, grief has flown

Come, child of sin delight,

Mother�s pain will atone��
Someone rang the doorbell then, but the sound became lost in the thick air, the whispers and song swallowing it whole. An earnest knocking began; then a female voice called from some distant place.
�D-Daniel? Daniel a-are you in there?�
Biting his lip with concentration, he continued painting--dismissing the sound. Distractions could not sway him.
�Y-your van�s still h-here�.are you o-okay? I-I got your messages Daniel�they s-scared me. P-please, open the door!�
The paintings began moving; like ballet dancers performing a waltz, their bodies unfurled and glided. The figure he just completed rippled under his fingers, gracefully arching its spine outward and over its head. He paid no heed to the motion, and painted further down the wall.
�D-Daniel, I�ll call Frank okay? He�ll know what to do. I�ll call him�just hang on!�
Words were meaningless; nothing mattered now but paradise�
Friday
Delirium encircled him like a varicolored cage, choking, squeezing his vision until he could see nothing else but the brush in his hands, and paint swirling from the bristles. All else was menial, background noise that hummed with nonsensical mutters and anguished sighs.
The only reprieve granted was when, like a sleepwalker, Daniel had let the brush drop from his aching fingers and ambled into the bedroom; the couple�s screams almost a comfort now.
He had watched the hole in the wall with wide, unblinking eyes and paint-stained knuckles over his mouth. That 70�s tune droned beyond the wailing; it was a detail that he had never noticed before. It seemed wrong somehow; that a moment ago, the music played and the couple had laughed and loved; they were happy, normal, until that fateful scratching at the wall--then they had died. Just like that.
Normalcy--then horror. It was unjust, almost rude in a sense. How could that thing--whatever it was, intrude on their lives? What right did it have? Why? What purpose did destroying them serve? Why leave an infant without his mother?
This time, as if reflecting his contemplations, the baby�s crying seemed to drone longer than usual. It left Daniel shivering until his muse came to the rescue, nudging him into the living room.
Almost finished�just a bit more�
He now painted the door.
The one that once made him scramble away, retching and in agony--was his final masterpiece. He bent low, stomach calm, and added the finishing touch to the doorknob.
He could feel her pulling away; like threads unraveling from a spool, she withdrew her influence--and remaining energy from his body. His vision blurred and his brush faltered, that last stroke shaking as he painstakingly applied it. Then the brush dropped to the floor when he lifted away, and his muse retreated, leaving him to bear the full brunt of his exhaustion. Daniel staggered back, his eyes fluttering as he drunkenly surveyed his apartment: the depraved murals that shifted and moaned with sudden animation, and each rippling with intangible power. His breath caught in his throat; the air was too thick to breathe.
�All done now��
Daniel bubbled a dry giggle--and then collapsed on the floor.
His dreams scattered around him like ravens; nasty, cruel birds that pecked and darted. He tried to shield himself, but they kept diving�trying to reach his eyes.
The altar flashed like a dull jewel, revolving like a spinning top--then slowing to a crawl. The markings glittered in sanguine light, every pit and groove made clear as if his face were inches away. That hall appeared, stretching, winding--with its doors locked tight. Some were open now; they clanged against the wall as a noxious gale swept through the corridor, the smell of dirt and blood pervading the stench of rotting meat. The voices rose, imploring, whispering--but then wailing erupted, howling madly, overwhelming all else until it was the only sound heard.
Spinning and spinning like a stone top, the altar beckoned, enthralling him to sleep upon it once again. He was chosen, he was meant for more than this life, and he was special, powerful�
�Mother�s elite��
The faint whisper drew his attention. A disturbance of air in the middle of the corridor, centrifuging with tiny waves like a rippling pond. The doll materialized, hovering like a raggedy angel and with button eyes shining.
�Not yet Daniel�I should be the one to take you, not he. He is only a messenger--nothing more. But he will come if you don�t wake; he�ll come to drag you away. Wake up Daniel�WAKE UP!�
His eyes snapped open.
Slowly, the world swam into focus; yet, it was not his world--not how he left it.
Beneath him, stained carpet stretched the expanse of the living room, frayed, appearing as if it endured years of abuse from some mangy animal. His furniture was the same, with the smell of musty cotton heavy in the air. The TV was on, projecting static and the occasional image of something disturbing. Music warbled through his room like a faulty recording; the familiar music from 302 jangled from the speakers, waxing and waning as if someone played with the volume. His windows were rimy with rust and crimson stains, the outside barely seen.
But the walls�
He rose to a sitting position, wincing as his body protested with flares of pain. Blinking once to focus, he could only stare in awe and horror at the chaos that churned upon each surface of the walls.
It was one continuous picture, each scene interlocking like pieces of a puzzle. Strange and pale females emerged half formed out of gray columns, their arms and hands grasping; other figures lurched from the shadows, their spines like scorpion tails and hands elongated claws. Dark shapes that looked like puppets floated in one corner, and the Fawns grazed beneath, their captured souls screaming in agony.
There were more creatures, but Daniel refused to look. He rolled onto his knees and dry heaved on the carpet, his stomach seizing in pain and bile burned his throat.
A gentle murmur whispered from his left, and he turned to find the doll hovering beside him. She appeared like his dream, filled with dark impetus and strangely alive. All around her was a gauzy aura, delicate, corrosive, a constant reservoir of decay that spewed poison.
�I kept you safe Daniel�kept him from taking you�aren�t you happy? Aren�t you pleased?�
Her dainty voice reminded Daniel of trickling streams, of rain falling upon stone; not only comprised of one tone, but many. �Oh, well, aren�t you a good little demon dolly�protecting me from big, bad Valtiel? What would I ever do without you?� he croaked, and then laughed, turning his head away. �Why don�t you just leave me alone? Look what you did�you�ve ruined everything. My apartment is disgusting.�
She laughed, a thousand children sighing, and then floated closer. �But Daniel, this was all for you�this is what must be done. You�re so stubborn, little bird�don�t you see? Mother wants to set you free��
He glanced at her sharply, hearing finally the other voice that spoke beneath the childish tone, a counterpart to her own. Walter.
�You son-of-a-bitch!� Daniel lurched to his feet, swaying as he swiped at the doll. She giggled and glided back, the movement rippling the air as she evaded his grasp. �Damn you, Walter! Fucking asshole! Hiding behind a stupid toy!� He attacked again, but she slid to the side the moment he reached her.
Seeing the futility of this pursuit, he staggered down the hall, his body tipping from one side to the other like a sailor upon rough sea. The pictures danced around him, turning their heads as he passed, reaching out with glistening limbs and pale hands. He moaned, lurching through the door and throwing himself at the dresser. Panting and head hurting, he yanked the top drawer out, scattering the contents over the carpet. He fell to his knees and searched for the remaining holy candles; tossing aside playing cards, papers and other junk--but not one candle found. �What? Where did they go?� he stammered aloud, his hands still sifting through the items with the faint chance that somehow he had overlooked them.
The doll drifted into the room then, spreading her taint like a foul breeze, and augmenting his headache to a new level of pain. He cried out and cradled his head, shouting at her with hysterical rage. �Fucking bitch! Both of you! Where are they? Where are the candles? Where did you put them?�
�Gone, gone�all are gone. On white wings they flew away��
�No...no, they�re still here! You hid them!� All rationality fled as he reached into his closet, pulling out Old Ben�s aluminum bat, and then launched himself at the doll.
He swung and she swirled out of the way, the bat�s momentum taking out the door handle with a loud crack. �Where are they!� he bellowed, chasing her down the hall and into the living room--swinging the bat as he went.
Mocking laugher bounced across the apartment as he struck empty air time and time again. She weaved and careened in a wide arc, circling him close and then buoyed away. Growling, he went for her as she feinted left and right, taunting with glee.
�Come on, Daniel�try and hit me�can�t catch me can you? Poor, poor Daniel, so tired and weak, can�t even catch a little dolly!�
With angry tears he swung--smashing the TV in his fury, causing the glass to shatter and sparks to fly. The radio continued crooning in the background, obvious to the destruction erupting--an apathetic observer to his frustration and pain.
With a wild cry, he knocked it from the shelf, smashing the bat into the metal until the radio sputtered and died. He turned on the furniture then, bashing and kicking it, knocking the soiled chairs over and breaking the legs off the bottom. Red-faced and chest heaving, he ignored the doll and stalked into the kitchen, sliding the bat across the counter, spilling the salt and pepper shakers and anything else unfortunate enough to get in the way. He beat at the cupboards, the refrigerator and stove until the metal crumbled and glass broke. But, that was not enough; his apartment was dirty, unclean, it needed purification somehow--and this was the only way he could think of.
He turned on the walls next; figures undulated upon the surface as he struck them, his breath expelling in wheezing pants, and hands trembling from exertion. The doll watched during his tirade, floating back and forth as if to get a better view of the damage he was inflicting.
Finally, exhausted, weeping, and half-mad, Daniel sank to his knees, the bat falling out of his hands as he sobbed upon the floor.
�Are you ready now, Daniel? Are you ready to meet Mother?�
A strangled moan escaped as he shook his head; the doll hovered next to him, her tone soft and coaxing. �This has gone on long enough�it�s time to stop fighting your fate. Come with me�there is no need to prolong your suffering��
Daniel glared at her with bloodshot eyes, his hands clenching. �I know it�s you Walter�why don�t you stop talking through that stupid toy and talk to me directly!�
�As you wish Child of Sin,� Walter�s melodic voice purred from the apartment door. Flinching, Daniel looked to the exit, to the doll, then back to the exit again.
�Why do you keep calling me that?�
�Because that is who you are. The first act of vengeance, of cleansing�the bloodline that followed is yours and mine� we are Mother�s chosen.�
�I-I don�t understand any of this�why are you doing this to me?� Daniel lowered his head to the floor, his face crumpling with fresh tears. �Bastard�just leave me alone.�
�I cannot. Nor do I want to. I�ve grown quite fond of you Daniel, I don�t invest in foolish endeavors--I do not waste time. Finding you was unexpected, but, preordained. It�s destiny--fate that brought you here.�
Daniel shook his head again, burrowing into his arms. �No, my father died and I needed a cheap place to live�nothing else. I don�t believe in fate. There is always a choice.�
�Idealism�foolish boy,� Walter said with a sad laugh. �The fact remains that you are descending into madness, your mind cannot handle much more. Come with me now�don�t be like the Hell Child and split yourself into pieces, mind and body frayed to the point of worthlessness--Mother will not stand for it a second time. Pick yourself off the floor and come to me�please Daniel, time is running out.�
He lifted his head and stared at the door in bemusement. The doll glided to the side then, her eyes gleaming. Shooting her an irritated glance, he sat up. �You can see me can�t you? You�re looking at me through the doll�s eyes�.you�ve been watching me this entire time?�
�Yes, quite a mess you made, little bird--but your paintings are lovely.�
Daniel made an inarticulate noise, teeth drawing blood as he bit his lip in anger. �You asshole! Damn you�all this time�all this time while I was going nuts, and while I was tearing my apartment to shreds--you just watched me? You just fucking watched!� he snarled at the doll and scooted further from the door. �Was it a good show Walter? Was it fun to see someone freak out and cry all the time, watch their food spoiling, get bizarre phone calls, bathe in the fucking SINK?� His back hit the overturned sofa, indignation painting his cheeks a bright red. �I�m not meeting your Mother!� he declared. �I rather go nuts and deal with that ugly bastard than you!�
Silence answered his proclaim, and Daniel tilted his head, listening. Then a shudder rolled along his floor and shivered through him--the carpet spitting with black zigzags and pieces falling into darkness. Daniel bleated with dismay and stood, the floor dropping all around him, his other furniture tumbling and devoured by black until he and the couch were the only things standing.
�Walter! What are you doing?� Desperate and frightened, Daniel climbed on top of the sofa, staring at the door while his little island quaked.
A sigh of resignation, Walter�s voice was passive. �Be careful what you wish for, little bird.�
Daniel blanched and frowned, swallowing hard as his painted walls cracked apart, the nearest opening like a jagged curtain, revealing rusted grating and what appeared to be ancient machinery underneath. Huge gears, crusted and black churned in steady rhythm, chains large and small dangled--diverging over the machine�s facade in looping arcs. Pipes gushed steam in dripping bouts, the smell akin to rotting eggs and musty air contained within tombs. There was a brassy �tock� sound as the gears shifted, smaller components echoing in tandem.
Valtiel climbed from some dark place below; his shoulders and twitching head came into view as he scaled the face of the machine. Daniel edged away, his couch island closer to the creature than he was comfortable with.
Muscles rippling, Valtiel climbed hand over hand, every motion fluid and deliberate as he braced himself against one of the smoother surfaces, grabbing hold of a large rusted chain that dangled near. Upon his shoulders, intricate tattoos became noticeable as the creature adjusted his grip, the markings bizarre, yet, familiar to Daniel--as if he had seen them before. Ties from the creature�s dirty and bloodstained smock fluttered in the steam, the material almost indistinguishable from his dappled skin and was so thin and flesh-like that it clung to his body as he moved.
He ceased all motion then and tilted his head at Daniel, blatantly appraising him. The gaze felt more than seen, and he shrank from the sensations Valtiel projected: feelings of lust, obsession and a cold, dark desire that repulsed him. He knew then, with sudden certainty, that Valtiel would do more than just take him to Mother--the creature would have a little fun first; perhaps drag Daniel to his nest for some quality time.
With scrutiny finished, Valtiel twitched his head around, concentrating now on the chain he grasped tight in his hands. He planted red-flecked boots upon the machine, drawing his body back as he reached for a larger chain overhead--all the while balancing with the one already held. He drew his sinewy body taut as he wrapped the bigger chain over gnarled fingers, wrapping and wrapping with methodic, thoughtful motions--and then wrenched down with one, mighty heave.
Daniel yowled as a booming knell resounded through his apartment, deep, piercing--echoing from the bowels of some great abyss. The chime quivered through his body, all hairs standing at attention and heart pounding in terror. But, something responded inside, something twisting in his mind, a door nudged open, spilling a crack of black light and power. He gritted his teeth at the sensation and gave it a violent shove away.
For several minutes, the bell continued tolling; Valtiel pulled the chain with savage flourish, back muscles rolling with effort and skull fluttering madly. The gears chugged along, steam spewing, and the hollow �tock� increased in volume, the noise vibrating his teeth until they ached.
�Stop it! Walter, make him stop!� Daniel cried, huddling against the couch with hands over his ears.
�Tick tock, tick tock�if you had just come with me when I asked, Valtiel would not be there,� Walter chided, raising his voice over the noise.
�Can�t you do something?�
�Maybe�maybe not,� said Walter slyly. �It all depends on you little bird.�
Daniel groaned as the machine roared, his body shuddering from the vibrations. He knew that when Valtiel finished playing with his bell--that he would come for him, and no kicking or screaming would do him any good this time.
He pressed his forehead against the couch, the musty odor tickling his nose as he fought to stay sane. Walter was going to demand something--he knew it: probably his surrender in exchange for shooing Valtiel away. The lesser of the two evils�was it really Walter? Or was he just a fool for assuming that someone who appeared human was the better choice.
�What do you want?� Daniel sighed, defeated.
The doll fluttered close, her skirts rustling. She lowered herself to Daniel�s level.
�For you to submit to one of us. We are at the crossroads now Daniel, one or the other. Will you choose Valtiel as your guide? Or I? Decide quickly little bird--we both grow impatient.�
He closed his eyes, his mind and emotions warring over whom to choose. This was all so surreal, insane. He was cowering upon a soiled, nasty couch in the middle of his living room; the floors crumbled into nothing, some freaky thing pulling a bell--his walls moving like the paintings in �Harry Potter� and his apartment nothing more than a blood soaked rust bucket.
Oh yeah, and he had a floating doll that talked.
Trying to keep from giggling from the absurdity of it all, he muttered, �Don�t I get a third choice?�
�I�m afraid Valtiel has omitted any �third choice�. You were foolish to have summoned him in the first place--now, he�ll never leave empty handed.� Walter spoke behind the door again, his tone somber.
�Summoned him?� Daniel echoed with confusion. �But, I never called Valtiel by name!�
As if hearing him, Valtiel stopped ringing the bell and lurched into motion. His hand let go of the chain, and snagged another to keep his balance. With serpentine form contorting like a dancer, he arched backward, wizened fingers groping the rusted mesh that sealed him, and eased his body feet over head. Now upside down, he peered at Daniel through the grating, his elongated tongue poking through the hole and unfurling obscenely.
�I believe he�s anxious to taste you. little bird��
Daniel recoiled, shrinking against the couch like a small, frightened boy. The thought of that creature�s tongue anywhere near him made him want to vomit. �All right!� he shouted, watching as Valtiel scuttled like a crab over the metal grate, curling over the side and onto the painted wall. �All right. You win; I�ll come with you Walter�I-I�ll go with you to meet Mother!�
�Do you promise?�
Valtiel began crawling in the direction of Daniel�s couch, every movement exaggerated and lolling. The spastic twitching of his face seemed excited, greedy.
�Yes! Yes�fuck, I promise. I promise! Just keep him away from me!�
The doll sighed in delight, and Walter echoed the sound. �Wise decision, Child of Sin. The first of many I hope.�
Heat flared around the doll, and she swung in a wide circle around Daniel�s couch �island�, hovering like a delicate sun catcher before Valtiel. The creature halted his movements, and poised lizard-like--head cocked in dismay. �Be gone Messenger, Red Angel of Chaos, the Child of Sin has chosen his guide. You are no longer needed.�
The voices of both Walter and child meshed, soft and hard, the tone oddly resonant, yet, commanding. Valtiel seemed unimpressed, and only jerked his head the other way, muscles rippling like an enraged feline. He made no sign of acknowledgement toward the command and crept forward; Daniel could swear if the creature had eyes--they now fixed upon him with desire.
�Fool, he is mine! He has made his choice! You dare interfere with my affairs! Challenge me again and face Mother�s wrath!�
That seemed to strike a nerve within the creature, as Valtiel bristled, but shrank back--withdrawing across the wall and back over the grating in elegant, yet, stiff movements. Daniel watched in relief as Valtiel loped the way he came, darkness swallowing his slinky form until only the gears and steam remained. The hole shifted and groaned soon after, rebuilding piece by piece until the floor, walls and everything else reformed--showing no evidence of the Otherworld except Walter�s taint.
Daniel remained in his cramped position, emotions a tattered mess. What had he done? He just handed himself over to a homicidal lunatic!
Considering the latter however, he supposed that Walter was the logical choice. But, still, it made him feel as if he sold out; surrendered his soul in some manner. What would happen now?
�Come here.�
Daniel flinched at the sound of Walter�s voice, the sensual timbre drifting over him like oily smoke. He raised his head above the rim of the sofa, watching the door and the doll with guarded resignation. The doll stared back, a motionless ornament in the air. Her power seemed muted now, but perhaps only because her services were no longer required. His paintings returned to their sighing and shifting, the movements like restless birds.
�I said, come here.� A thread of impatience now laced his voice, and Daniel could feel Walter�s presence grow colder.
Still, he hesitated--images of his fate swirling in his thoughts like leaves in a spinning pool. �What will she do to me? Will she kill me?� His voice warbled on the word �kill� and he struggled to contain his emotions.
Walter gave a measured sigh, his tone all silk and patience. �Mother will set you free Daniel; release you from this world so that you may live unbound by the constraints of mortality. Your flesh is only a cage--can�t you feel it suffocating you? Can�t you feel the burden of society�s decadence? Think of it as an open door, a door to freedom and light. There is no need to fear her little bird�we are her children. Mother protects us, loves us�what more can you ask?
�My life back.�
�She will give you a new one.�
�But I have to die first. You can paint it all pretty and wonderful Walter, but I know that�s what�s going happen. Your Mother is going to kill me.� He said flatly, and closed his eyes. �I�m going to be sacrificed or something right? It�s why I keep seeing the altar isn�t it� His lips trembled, but he pressed them together, struggling to retain composure.
�Yes, your connection to this world must be severed,� Walter acknowledged. �You cannot walk in both.�
�You do.�
�Ah, but I don�t. I am either here or there--never both at once.�
�Riddles again. Why don�t you ever say what you mean?�
�I just did�now, enough stalling and come to me.� Walter called, his voice curled through the air like invisible ropes, and tugged Daniel gently from the couch.
With stomach lurching in fear, Daniel resisted, his breath hitching, and panic stirring his blood. �But, I don�t want to die.� He hated the way his voice sounded--pathetic and small.
�Then stay Daniel. Starve as your food rots and water runs dry. Go insane as you paint your walls again and again with creatures more disturbing than the last. I offer you dignity this way--a chance to salvage your mind and soul intact. Otherwise, I will be handing Mother a broken vessel, one that will take years to repair and mold into her image. Mother�s patience is not infinite� she grows weary with this useless obstinacy.�
�But, I c-can�t Walter�I can�t just give myself to some creature that wants to k-kill me,� his teeth chattered as the room grew even colder.
�Shhh, yes, you must. It�s alright little bird�there�s nothing to fear,� Walter crooned, his tone warm and comforting. It wrapped around Daniel like a soft blanket, easing his fears and made him feel safe. �Just come to me�it�s just a few feet to the door Daniel, it will open now for you--just like Mother�s arms. Isn�t that what you wanted? For your suffering to end? Why remain in so much pain and grief--when release is right outside.�
�I-I��
�Hush, no fear�just come to me.�
Daniel slipped off the couch with legs too weak to support his weight. Everything inside him screamed that this was wrong--that he could last a little but longer; maybe until Henry found another medallion, or Frank and Melanie could bulldoze the door. He quaked upon the carpet, his vision swimming as tears ran down his face.
�Come��
Daniel controlled the impulse to weep somehow as he crawled toward the door, Walter cooing encouragement beyond. The doll floated behind, expression indifferent to his plight. He thought with sudden rebellion, that he should force this Mother creature to deal with his starved corpse, or deranged mind--make her work for her little �chosen� boy. However, this flare of defiance ebbed as Walter droned on, coaxing Daniel forward as if he were a terrified animal.
�Just a little further now�shhh, now don�t cry. Mother will make everything all right�you�ll see, I promise. Just a little more�that�s it. This is such a brave thing you�re doing--not many would be so in your place.�
Daniel gave a strangled laugh, his hand reaching for the doorknob--fingers trembling. The room held a collective breath, and the doll sighed behind him.
�Turn it Daniel, turn it and be free��
Paint flaked off as he struggled to turn it, his grip slipping�
�Damn you! Now�why now?� Walter snarled, and Daniel jerked his hand away, his stomach rolling. He retreated in haste and scuttled backwards until he reached the counter. He stared at the door, wondering at Walter�s change in attitude. He heard Walter pacing outside, furious for some reason. Walter spoke in disgust, thumping the door for emphasis: �They can�t save you! You�re mine! You�ve made your choice! They won�t hear your calls, or your screaming. I�ll come for you when they leave--and believe me, they �will� leave Daniel--they don�t care about you. Only Mother loves you�this door will open only when you�re ready to embrace her!�
With those parting words, Walter retreated, leaving Daniel blinking in confusion over what the hell he was talking about. He realized the next moment, as the doorknob rattled, and a chorus of low voices murmured outside his door. Familiar voices, voices that he had been waiting a week to hear.
�Frank! Melanie!� Daniel felt the surge of hope cascade like water over his body, that elated, giddy feeling that made him wobble to his feet, and rush forward.
He managed a few steps before his stomach seized in rebellion, knocking him to his knees as he retched. The voices muttered on, obvious to Daniel�s discomfort or presence.
�This key should work�I make damn sure they do. I�ve tested the locks every week since Henry disappeared.� Frank muttered, his words sounding tight and strained.
�I-I hope so�I just w-want to make sure he�s o-okay.�
�Noooo!� Daniel groaned, wiping his mouth. �Why can�t you hear me? Help me! I�m in here! Please open the door! I can�t reach it!�
Frank�s voice rose in volume, agitated and distraught. �Damn it!� The doorknob jiggled violently. �Not again! I won�t have this again! How long do you think he�s been in there? When did he call you?�
�S-shortly after I left. I w-would have come s-sooner but my grandpa had a stroke. I w-wasn�t supposed t-to leave! My f-family is very angry w-with me�especially my m-mom.� Melanie said, her voice trembling and upset. Daniel could imagine her cheeks flushing, those big, green eyes glittering with tears. His heart ached, and he searched for something to get their attention.
As he turned, he noticed the doll had vanished. Daniel looked around the apartment in bafflement, but could not sense, or see her anywhere.
The door rattled, and he could hear Frank swearing. �Goddamn it! Why won�t this key work? Daniel? Daniel! Can hear me, son? Say something!�
�I�m here! I�m in here! Why can�t you hear me?� Daniel grabbed one of the salt and peppershakers he had damaged during his temper tantrum. The glass shattered upon impact. No response from outside, and Frank continued beating the knob into submission.
�I don�t understand this! Why does this keep happening?� Now, Frank�s voice held that warble--that frustrated quaver that made Daniel�s eyes well up. Another savage thump and the entire frame shook; bits of paint fluttered to the carpet as Frank threw himself bodily against the door.
�What if he�s dead in there? What if--�
�He�s not dead! He�s in there--I know he is��
�I am! I�m standing right here!� Daniel threw the other shaker, watching as it exploded with a black cloud of pepper. Still no response. He snatched a fallen desk lamp and threw that; the bulb broke on impact and wire frame snapped apart. Item after item he pitched at the exit: shoes, paint containers, toaster, even the chair he had stood upon while redecorating his walls. But, all met with the same response. Nothing.
Fuming, Daniel tried rushing the door again, but some invisible force pushed him back. No retching this time, but a wall of cold air slapped his face, knocking him on his ass. He scrambled to his feet in anger, but another man speaking drew his attention. Daniel had no idea when this person joined the duo, or if he were present the entire time. This new male sounded heavyset, his voice a pleasant rasp that reminded Daniel of talk show hosts.
�Sorry Frank, I didn�t know the kid�s been in there all week,� Mr. talk show host said. �I figured he was the quiet type you know; Gladys said he was an artist--�
�I don�t care what Gladys said!� The door stopped rattling as Frank berated the newcomer. �I told you to check on everyone! Make sure they were okay. What was the protocol? I said three days Bob! Three days--and if you don�t see them or hear them--you fucking check on them!� Another sudden whack, and this time it sounded like a foot slamming against the wood. �I won�t have this again�not again!�
�Frank, Frank you�re going to hurt yourself,� Bob said, trying to sound reasonable. �Let�s call the lock smith; I�m sure they can get in there somehow. Maybe something�s wrong with the lock--�
�Nothing�s wrong with the goddamned lock!�
�Okay, Frank, take it easy--swearing at it, or at me isn�t going to help any. Let's call the Fire Department or Police if you don't want the locksmith--but, it'll be a shitload of publicity SAH doesn't need. The only other option I can think of is my buzz saw," Bob offered. �There�ll be damage, but at least we'll get through that door. It�s all up to you on how far you want to go with this. I hate to think that kid�s dead in there, but he ain�t answering. The Fire or Police department will do the same thing basically, but my way should be less of a fuss--unless, of course, we find a body.�
�Y-yeah, I think t-that�s a good idea.� Melanie�s voice drifted to the right. There was a long, hard silence, and Daniel could almost imagine Frank staring at the door, his face red with exertion and eyes determined, yet, fearful--as if he was afraid what he might find when the door opened. A corpse? An empty room like he had with Henry?
Daniel heard a heavy sigh, the breath shaking. �Okay. Go get it. I�m not worried about the damage at this point--I�m only afraid that we �will� find a body once we get this damn thing off.�
Melanie sniffed miserably, and Bob said, �I�ll need an extension cord then; that plug�s all the way down the hall and mine won�t reach this far.�
�Alright, I have one in my office.� Frank�s voice fell away, as if he began walking down the hall. �Melanie, come with me.�
�But--�
�I won�t have you loitering outside the door. Looking at it won�t make it open sooner.� Frank said, his voice tired. �Besides, I don�t need Gladys or Carl snooping around here and wondering what�s going on. Come along now, you look like you could use a few tissues and some time to calm down. We�ll fix this. We�ll get him out.� Despite the pledge, Daniel could hear the uncertainty in Frank�s voice, but Melanie complied.
�O-okay.�
Daniel threw one last item at the door--his broken radio. He watched as it clanged and tumbled to the floor in pieces. The voices retreated without acknowledgement and faded down the hall in search of Bob�s buzz saw.
Crestfallen, defeated, he fell to his knees and began weeping, drawing his legs to his chest and curled into a tight, little ball. He knew they would find nothing when they finally opened the door; Walter would claim him before then--or perhaps no one would notice him at all. He would just be a ghost--unseen, unfelt, forever trying to push back into a world stolen from him. Walter and his Mother had won--he was doomed.
His frame shook with sobs, and he rocked back and forth, waiting for Walter to retrieve him. A soft cry rose from the bedroom then, and Daniel stopped sniffling long enough to stare down the hall. The doll? He stood on his feet, dizziness abating as he focused on the sound.
Grabbing the aluminum bat from the floor, he walked toward the hall, ignoring the dancing paintings and rivers of decay streaking everywhere. The cry erupted again, fearful, anxious, and then he realized with sudden clarity who it was. That little boy from 302.
Daniel snapped his head in the direction of the door slamming and weeping child running down the hall: the ritual so familiar now, that he could count the minutes between each event.
As he listened to the steps retreating, something broke within him�something dark and incensed. It was not his muse, or his stubborn defiance. It was something deeper than that--lying in the core of his soul, something dormant and angry--surging with power. He was so tired of all this. He was tired of being shoved, manipulated, forced to experience things that no one ever should: haunted, attacked, sleep deprived, and then violated by Walter�s lusts--
His grip tightened on the handle of Old Ben�s bat, twisting and knuckles turning white. This ended. This ended right fucking now!
As his vision clouded with incoherent rage, he stalked toward the door without hesitation, not stopping or pausing until he grasped the knob--turned it--and swung it wide. No obstructions blocked him this time; no wall of air, or doll, or retching, or even Walter stood in his way.
He emerged from the room into a wall of red--every surface of the hallway pulsing like the internal organs of some great beast. Mesh-like veins throbbed and slithered over the surface as if alive and aware. His eyes skipped over the gore with little thought, coming to rest upon that hated door of 302.
With seething determination, he strolled forward, giving the knob a savage yank--and the door opened easily, inviting him inside with a creaking swing.
Without pausing, or reconsidering his intrepid behavior, Daniel entered 302. The room was dark and old smelling; dusty furniture loomed from the shadows, forms shapeless in the dim light. The door remained open behind him, the scarlet light of the hall filtering inside like a beam of sunset. All was quiet, but he knew that would end soon. Soon, the music would begin, the couple would enter, laughing, loving, and then they would die. He would see it; he would know how and why--he would put a face to the howling thing that murdered them and finally know what it was, and then, perhaps, with the secret finally shown--it would leave him then in peace.
With bat gripped vice-like and body shaking--Daniel stood now in the middle of the 302�s living room--
and waited�
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Blood Ties