It was under a dark, rain filled sky that officer Gregg Ackerman came across the child, mutilated almost beyond recognition. The playground stood vacant. The sand caked and monkey bars slippery. Water made the jungle gym glisten. Some of the play set had fallen into disrepair but neighborhood children still came. This was where the little boy had likely been taken.
Gregg walked through the crime scene, kerchief in hand. The New Los Angeles police department had the entire block barricaded but that didn’t stop nosy neighbors and reporters. Nothing ever did. He waved them back, was met with a half dozen phones pointed in his direction.
“Anything to get the shot.” Ackerman spat. He glanced over at the beams and slide, the swing set that sat inert, too still as if frozen in place. He found himself shuddering.
“It’s not the cold is it?” officer Ross Martson asked beside him.
“A different kind of cold maybe.” Ackerman said with a humorless smile. “My insides are chilled.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Will you talk to the press?” Ross asked. “They’re starting to gather.”
“This place is a crime scene.” Ackerman growled. “That little boy just had his insides ripped out. I could care less about the goddamn news networks.”
“I’ll talk to them.” Ross said, a tone of frustration in his voice.
Ackerman turned back to the body, began taking pictures. He felt macabre, like the body wasn’t actually real but a wax dummy. Something you’d find in an art house museum. The child’s head had been turned all the way around. So although he lay on his stomach, the boy’s terror filled eyes stared up at the clouds. His mouth was open but a bloody mess where his tongue had been taken. Ackerman bent down and inspected the face.
“Has the kid’s tongue been found or did he take it with him?”
Ross looked at the playground. “Nothing but the rain and sand might have it covered. Parts of him are everywhere.”
Ackerman sighed, ducked under the crawl tube. He shimmied forward until he was under the big toy and let his eyes adjust to the shadows. He heard the rain bash onto the tube and it reminded him of a bass drum. His attention came at last to a smeared word written on the side of the equipment in sharp, angular script. Lamia.
“Anything?” Ross asked.
“Yeah.” Ackerman shambled up and to his feet.
Silence held them as crime scene investigators entered the perimeter. Each of them took a look at the body but didn’t let their eyes linger too long. It seemed sacrilegious, Ackerman knew.
Ackerman staggered back to his patrol car, felt the impact of the boy still on him. He fumbled with a cigarette while retrieving his phone from the glove box. He dialed quickly.
“Yeah.” A familiar voice said after the first ring.
“Hank. Gotta minute?” Ackerman asked.
A slight pause. “What’s up?”
“You ever heard of Lamia?”
“Is it a food?”
“An autograph on the side of a playground crawl tube.”
“Is there a body?” Hank asked.
“Yeah.”
“How bad?”
“Pretty sick. Kid missing body parts, gutted bad.”
“Don’t say anything to the press, I’m on my way.”
Thirty minutes later, Hank Dolan dipped his head under police tape and was immediately blocked before he could get a look at the crime scene.
“You can’t be here, Dolan.” Ross said. “You’re not a cop anymore remember?”
“Talk to Ackermann. He called me.” Hank growled.
“Fuck that. I’m talking to you. There’s still a lot of cops that remember what you did last year. You can’t turn your back then come back like nothing happened. You killed cops asshole. Get the fuck out of here.”
“What’s the matter Ross? Were you on Pious’s payroll too?”
“Fuck you-”
Just then, Ackermann grabbed Hank by the arm and spun away from what was quickly spiraling into a physical confrontation.
“I hate that guy.” Hank said.
“Oh, he knows it.” Ackermann said with a grin.
Hank tried to push the memories of last year out of his mind but it was impossible. He couldn’t just forget how close he had come to getting himself killed while trying to protect Sadie Fuller. Then to find out Sadie herself was the most dangerous woman in the city had complicated things further. A splotch of red on the underside of the crawl tube brought him back around. He swallowed hard and looked at his feet. There were patches of wet clothing and was that hair? He stepped away from the tube and stared out at the playground. It took a few seconds before he realized what he was seeing. There were body parts strewn here and there. They were scattered as if the victim had literally been torn apart and his limbs just strewn wherever.
“It’s a wild animal attack.” He said.
“No, it’s not.” Ackermann responded. “Look.”
He led Hank back underneath the tube and together they stared at the word Lamia scrawled in blood.
“What the fuck is Lamia?” Ackermann asked.
“I would guess a name.” Hank took out his phone and punched up the Internet. “Goddammit.”
“What?”
“It is. This one is Descended.”
Ackermann looked out at the playground and shook his head. “Sure?”
“A hundred percent. It’s Greek, Descended with the others.”
“Same as last year?”
Hank’s mind flashed to Sadie Fuller. “No. This one is different. You guys are gonna have your hands full.”
“You’re gonna consult right?” Ackermann said sharply.
“I’m not a cop anymore. Ross is right about that much.”
“You’ve had experience tracking these things. Hank, how the fuck do I go about catching a Descendant that eats goddamn children?”
“I’d start by checking missing persons reports and the morgues. Good luck, pal.”
“Are you serious?”
Hank held up his hands in a pacifying fashion. He backed up and ducked under the police tape.
“Don’t come back.” Ross smirked.
“Tell the Church of Man I said hello.” Hank responded without turning his head.
“Fuck you, Dolan.”
Hank jumped into his Sedan and looked back at the crime scene that was quickly being cordoned off. He felt a chill all the way up his spine. For the first time in the past year, he was relieved to be a private investigator. This case was sure to get ugly and he wanted no part of it.
Lilac and Lemon. Sadie Fuller woke up at the Lotus. At least, that’s what it used to be called. Now it was a sea of yellow flowers swaying like feathers in the breeze. She could smell them. But these weren’t lilacs. They were some kind of daffodil or tulip. The grounds used to be maintained, back when the Maharishi-ten, Japanese Descendant goddess, still lived.
Sadie closed her eyes and let Kali come forth. She felt pressure as the Indian goddess stretched her arms. Kali bit her tongue. Hard. Sadie winced as blood gushed into her mouth. Kali looked out through Sadie’s eyes and breathed in the mountain air. “Does this look familiar to you?” She asked. Kali inspected the bear statue that marked the entrance to the Maharishi-ten’s compound. It was dull gray with fangs. Parts had started to chip off as though the demise of the goddess was now signaling the end of her images and symbols as well. Kali kicked at the pebbles on the ground. She is a stranger to me. Sadie nodded, pushed the goddess deep inside once again.
They had started to take walks. All around the estate, Sadie would walk with Kali, acquainting herself with the goddess that had caused her to kill thirty or more the previous year. It wasn’t my fault. Sadie thought. Somewhere she heard Kali snicker.
She dipped her hand under a tree branch and sat cross legged amongst the flowers. She was soft, careful not to crush the pedals. At the horizon, the morning sun bathed the estate in shadowy purple. She picked out a blossom, held it to her nose. The fragrance made her feel light-headed. Perhaps it was residual grace from the goddess that had planted it.
The sound of footsteps walking down the dirt driveway caused her to look up. And there stood Nephthys. Descended Egyptian Goddess, she had been looking after Sadie since her stay began. Sadie assumed she was there to make sure Kali didn’t kill anybody else. Although she had pangs of resentment, she understood. Kali had been an unstoppable force of nature.
Nephthys stopped just short of the blossoms and glanced around. Her dark eyes measured everything as if she were a falcon taking in what lay below.
“You coming up for breakfast?” She asked.
Sadie smiled. “Yeah, I’m starved.”
Nephthys came close, put a hand on Sadie’s head. She felt pressure as the goddess squeezed her scalp ever so lightly. Sadie sighed weakly.
“The caretaker comes today.” Nephthys said.
Sadie glanced up the driveway beyond the blossoms toward the three tiered pagoda that lay a mile up the road. Her back stiff, she took a deep breath and noticed her fingers clenched.
“You know how I feel about visitors.”
“This can’t be helped. It’s his generosity that is allowing us a respite from the city.”
“But Kali.”
“Kali will have to be controlled.” Nephthys sniffed. “The goddess can only exercise her will if you allow it.”
Sadie gritted her teeth. I will not be invisible. She felt her head swim, closed her eyes. “You know that’s not true.”
Nephthys looked into Sadie’s eyes. “She must be made to understand.”
Sadie swallowed. “Oh, I think she understands. She just doesn’t care. It’s compulsion.”
Nephthys nodded, running a hand through Sadie’s glossy black hair.
Out in the distance, a car was making its way up the driveway. A cloud of dust rose up in its wake.
Sadie leaned forward, squinted. “That’s him.”
A hush came over the estate as the pair walked toward the pagoda. Sadie looked directly ahead, her jaw tight. Again, Nephthys ran a hand through her hair, this time giving it a playful tug.
“Hey now.” Sadie said, trying to sound annoyed.
“Sorry Mama.” Nephthys teased. She glanced back at the freshly washed Lexus winding upward. The car skidded to a stop. Fudo San invisible through the window tint.
Nephthys smiled and waved. “Stay calm. Whatever you do, keep the Indian goddess at bay.”
She awoke in the dark. She looked down at her hands. They were milky. She stretched each finger. She reached up, felt her face. It was warm. Heated. Her fingertips felt the contours, the shape. She knew her name. Hecate. But she didn’t recognize her body. The body was a stranger, something fleeting, ghostly. She could still sense the bodiless. They were here too. But they were silent, quieted. She probed out. Yes. They were there but she felt them as if, like her body, they were not hers.
I am Hecate. She thought. Of the Titans.
Hecate stood. She ran her hands through red woven silk, straightened her back, felt a popping in her spine. A wetness settled on her face. She felt it drip down, warm against her skin. She raised her hands slowly, collected the wetness on her finger. The wetness came from her nose as well. She sniffed. But the world was blurry now. Hecate wiped at her sockets.
She squinted at tawny leaves that had collected around her. She wondered how she’d found herself there. Had she been taken? Staring at the moon, she heard howling. First one or two then a whole chorus. She smiled. But there was a crashing sound as well. She tasted something on her tongue. The orange and brown tree leaves were just an assemblage of many. Perhaps ten to twelve large oaks had all deposited leaves in a disarray. Tree branch shadows spun outward like cold, misshapen fingers. Hecate looked past them and saw the dark churning. A rolling rhythm with beads of white crashed outward, downward. The ground underneath her feet suddenly felt flaccid. Hecate shivered. She watched the ocean waves blast onto the shore for five minutes. She felt them as if they were polishing the surface where they crashed. She looked at the glossy sand and walked out to it. She knelt. It’s cold! She looked right then left then spied a pier a short distance away. She felt a pull towards it. It was a tug somewhere in her psyche. The structure was speckled in lights. From where she stood, they were tiny orbs. They reminded her of stars, like the ones above her head. She wanted to reach out to them. But even more than that, she wanted to taste the ocean.
Hecate slipped out of her simple, sheer garment. She felt it fall down her back and onto the feet. She heard a whistle from somewhere close and observed a mortal man also at the water’s edge. He stared at her, his head slowly shaking.
Hecate’s attention went back to the water; It’s icy grip at her ankles, she waded in. A crash sent the taste of salt onto her tongue. She knew the current was strong, already she was shoved this way and that. She rocked as the waves came on. She jumped headfirst, felt the violent jolt as air was forced out of her lungs. The wave rolled onto her, she felt it like a cutting palpation on her back and legs. She gasped in neck high water, danced back to the water’s edge.
Again Hecate felt the pull and glanced at the lights to her left. She swung left and picking up her dress in stride, headed towards the pull. Hecate plunged down the beach at almost a gallop. She stopped to slip the dress back although she couldn’t really say why. Her nakedness didn’t matter. She found after a few minutes, her legs tired. They trembled and she had to sit. But still that pull called out to her.
What is it? She thought.
Hecate stared up at the full moon and began to mumble an incantation. Her wet hair in her face, she brushed it smoothly back with the back of her hand. Her body shook in the breeze. She spoke aloud but her voice trembled. Quickly she realized her words were having no effect. Nothing was manifesting. Her words might as well have been meaningless. Oh no. She tried again, then again. Nothing. Hecate hesitated, probed out to the bodiless. They were there but faint. They would come but were powerless? Was that true? She felt the power in her lingering. A potential as yet untapped but couldn’t call out to it fully. It was as if her magic was only a vestigial spark of what it had been. She wanted to cry out, rage at the churning black in front of her. She seethed through gritted teeth. The bodiless were apathetic. Their shapes darker than the surrounding night. They waited. What are you waiting for? Help me! But like her magic, the dead existed in abeyance.
Hecate found herself breathing hard and tried to calm herself. She looked out at the pier, it was closer now. She could be underneath it in a short time. She headed towards it, ignoring the cuts on her feet. Soon she looked up at cross beams and smelled rotting wood. Above, she heard others passing by. Their voices echoed off the girder, booming down. Hecate felt the pull again. It was like an itch.
“You shouldn’t be here.” A voice said in the dark. Hecate startled, she hadn’t noticed the man sitting at one of the giant beams to her right. He dipped his head in measured civility. His eyes never left her though. Even in the dark, she felt them on her.
“I’m allowed passage anywhere.” She said.
“Nah. I don’t think so. Not wearing that.”
Hecate looked down at the dress that clung to her wet skin. She saw breasts pulling the fabric tight, her pubic area doing the same. The man took a step forward. He tried to smile, rubbed at his lips. He had dark, glittery eyes and a hard, lined face. His wiry frame gave him the appearance of a cricket.
As he got close, Hecate backed further into the dark, toward the adjacent beam opposite to where he had been sitting. She walked back deliberately, turning to her left and then left again. The man followed slowly.
“You shouldn’t have come down here.” She heard him say. “It’s not safe.”
Hecate ducked behind another beam, crouched and took a few paces back towards where he had approached her. On her hands and knees, she crawled forward. Again her mind was pulled by that strange sensation to head further down the water’s edge.
A hand came down and gripped her by the hair. Hecate was thrown back into a beam. She felt warmth where her skull had cracked against the wooden support.
“Fucking bitch!” The man punched her hard in the stomach, then laid atop her, his hand on her mouth.
“You dirty fucking hooker. You meeting a john here?”
Hecate squirmed underneath him, felt hot breath on her face. His other hand on her breasts, he gyrated his hip into her, grinding against her until she felt him hard against her inner thigh.
“Don’t you make a fucking sound.” He whispered. But it was too late. Hecate smashed the rock she had been holding into his face. He screamed as blood spurted from his nose. Hecate felt it spray onto her face and tasted it on her lips. She brought the rock and thrashed him on the side of the head. He toppled back, against the pier beam and gurgled something incoherent. She brought the rock down again. Then again. Hecate leaped toward him, strode silently to stand within kissing distance then brought the rock down multiple times in quick succession. It was a savage array of blows. As she looked down at the mess at her feet, she felt the itch again. She closed her eyes tight until it passed.
Hecate bent close until she was at the man’s ear.
“Bodiless.” She said quietly. “I need answers.”
She sat him upright, his wet, glazed eyes stared up towards the bottom of the pier. Hecate frowned. She turned his head towards her.
“Can you hear me?”
She waited. The man didn’t stir. Hecate stared down at him, chewed at her lip.
“Bodiless!” She snapped. “You will liaise with me!”
Again she waited. They felt faint, just out of reach. The man coughed. Blood sprayed out in a mist. Hecate jerked his chin forward until she was looking into his eyes. “What has happened? Is this the Titans seeking retribution?”
The corpse in front of her gurgled softly. His mouth moving faintly. Hecate bent her ear to his mouth.
“Tell me departed, what is happening?”
The man’s mouth widened as if he was going to take a bite of an apple then a voice that hadn’t been his in life uttered. “You are in front of the veil.”
Hecate gasped and stood quickly. Of course. Why hadn’t she discerned it?
She looked south, felt the itch come back. Hecate went back to the water’s edge and washed her hands and feet. She ducked her head for good measure. The veil is asunder. She thought. Slowly, in ankle deep water, the goddess Hecate began to walk south.
Gregg walked through the crime scene, kerchief in hand. The New Los Angeles police department had the entire block barricaded but that didn’t stop nosy neighbors and reporters. Nothing ever did. He waved them back, was met with a half dozen phones pointed in his direction.
“Anything to get the shot.” Ackerman spat. He glanced over at the beams and slide, the swing set that sat inert, too still as if frozen in place. He found himself shuddering.
“It’s not the cold is it?” officer Ross Martson asked beside him.
“A different kind of cold maybe.” Ackerman said with a humorless smile. “My insides are chilled.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Will you talk to the press?” Ross asked. “They’re starting to gather.”
“This place is a crime scene.” Ackerman growled. “That little boy just had his insides ripped out. I could care less about the goddamn news networks.”
“I’ll talk to them.” Ross said, a tone of frustration in his voice.
Ackerman turned back to the body, began taking pictures. He felt macabre, like the body wasn’t actually real but a wax dummy. Something you’d find in an art house museum. The child’s head had been turned all the way around. So although he lay on his stomach, the boy’s terror filled eyes stared up at the clouds. His mouth was open but a bloody mess where his tongue had been taken. Ackerman bent down and inspected the face.
“Has the kid’s tongue been found or did he take it with him?”
Ross looked at the playground. “Nothing but the rain and sand might have it covered. Parts of him are everywhere.”
Ackerman sighed, ducked under the crawl tube. He shimmied forward until he was under the big toy and let his eyes adjust to the shadows. He heard the rain bash onto the tube and it reminded him of a bass drum. His attention came at last to a smeared word written on the side of the equipment in sharp, angular script. Lamia.
“Anything?” Ross asked.
“Yeah.” Ackerman shambled up and to his feet.
Silence held them as crime scene investigators entered the perimeter. Each of them took a look at the body but didn’t let their eyes linger too long. It seemed sacrilegious, Ackerman knew.
Ackerman staggered back to his patrol car, felt the impact of the boy still on him. He fumbled with a cigarette while retrieving his phone from the glove box. He dialed quickly.
“Yeah.” A familiar voice said after the first ring.
“Hank. Gotta minute?” Ackerman asked.
A slight pause. “What’s up?”
“You ever heard of Lamia?”
“Is it a food?”
“An autograph on the side of a playground crawl tube.”
“Is there a body?” Hank asked.
“Yeah.”
“How bad?”
“Pretty sick. Kid missing body parts, gutted bad.”
“Don’t say anything to the press, I’m on my way.”
Thirty minutes later, Hank Dolan dipped his head under police tape and was immediately blocked before he could get a look at the crime scene.
“You can’t be here, Dolan.” Ross said. “You’re not a cop anymore remember?”
“Talk to Ackermann. He called me.” Hank growled.
“Fuck that. I’m talking to you. There’s still a lot of cops that remember what you did last year. You can’t turn your back then come back like nothing happened. You killed cops asshole. Get the fuck out of here.”
“What’s the matter Ross? Were you on Pious’s payroll too?”
“Fuck you-”
Just then, Ackermann grabbed Hank by the arm and spun away from what was quickly spiraling into a physical confrontation.
“I hate that guy.” Hank said.
“Oh, he knows it.” Ackermann said with a grin.
Hank tried to push the memories of last year out of his mind but it was impossible. He couldn’t just forget how close he had come to getting himself killed while trying to protect Sadie Fuller. Then to find out Sadie herself was the most dangerous woman in the city had complicated things further. A splotch of red on the underside of the crawl tube brought him back around. He swallowed hard and looked at his feet. There were patches of wet clothing and was that hair? He stepped away from the tube and stared out at the playground. It took a few seconds before he realized what he was seeing. There were body parts strewn here and there. They were scattered as if the victim had literally been torn apart and his limbs just strewn wherever.
“It’s a wild animal attack.” He said.
“No, it’s not.” Ackermann responded. “Look.”
He led Hank back underneath the tube and together they stared at the word Lamia scrawled in blood.
“What the fuck is Lamia?” Ackermann asked.
“I would guess a name.” Hank took out his phone and punched up the Internet. “Goddammit.”
“What?”
“It is. This one is Descended.”
Ackermann looked out at the playground and shook his head. “Sure?”
“A hundred percent. It’s Greek, Descended with the others.”
“Same as last year?”
Hank’s mind flashed to Sadie Fuller. “No. This one is different. You guys are gonna have your hands full.”
“You’re gonna consult right?” Ackermann said sharply.
“I’m not a cop anymore. Ross is right about that much.”
“You’ve had experience tracking these things. Hank, how the fuck do I go about catching a Descendant that eats goddamn children?”
“I’d start by checking missing persons reports and the morgues. Good luck, pal.”
“Are you serious?”
Hank held up his hands in a pacifying fashion. He backed up and ducked under the police tape.
“Don’t come back.” Ross smirked.
“Tell the Church of Man I said hello.” Hank responded without turning his head.
“Fuck you, Dolan.”
Hank jumped into his Sedan and looked back at the crime scene that was quickly being cordoned off. He felt a chill all the way up his spine. For the first time in the past year, he was relieved to be a private investigator. This case was sure to get ugly and he wanted no part of it.
Lilac and Lemon. Sadie Fuller woke up at the Lotus. At least, that’s what it used to be called. Now it was a sea of yellow flowers swaying like feathers in the breeze. She could smell them. But these weren’t lilacs. They were some kind of daffodil or tulip. The grounds used to be maintained, back when the Maharishi-ten, Japanese Descendant goddess, still lived.
Sadie closed her eyes and let Kali come forth. She felt pressure as the Indian goddess stretched her arms. Kali bit her tongue. Hard. Sadie winced as blood gushed into her mouth. Kali looked out through Sadie’s eyes and breathed in the mountain air. “Does this look familiar to you?” She asked. Kali inspected the bear statue that marked the entrance to the Maharishi-ten’s compound. It was dull gray with fangs. Parts had started to chip off as though the demise of the goddess was now signaling the end of her images and symbols as well. Kali kicked at the pebbles on the ground. She is a stranger to me. Sadie nodded, pushed the goddess deep inside once again.
They had started to take walks. All around the estate, Sadie would walk with Kali, acquainting herself with the goddess that had caused her to kill thirty or more the previous year. It wasn’t my fault. Sadie thought. Somewhere she heard Kali snicker.
She dipped her hand under a tree branch and sat cross legged amongst the flowers. She was soft, careful not to crush the pedals. At the horizon, the morning sun bathed the estate in shadowy purple. She picked out a blossom, held it to her nose. The fragrance made her feel light-headed. Perhaps it was residual grace from the goddess that had planted it.
The sound of footsteps walking down the dirt driveway caused her to look up. And there stood Nephthys. Descended Egyptian Goddess, she had been looking after Sadie since her stay began. Sadie assumed she was there to make sure Kali didn’t kill anybody else. Although she had pangs of resentment, she understood. Kali had been an unstoppable force of nature.
Nephthys stopped just short of the blossoms and glanced around. Her dark eyes measured everything as if she were a falcon taking in what lay below.
“You coming up for breakfast?” She asked.
Sadie smiled. “Yeah, I’m starved.”
Nephthys came close, put a hand on Sadie’s head. She felt pressure as the goddess squeezed her scalp ever so lightly. Sadie sighed weakly.
“The caretaker comes today.” Nephthys said.
Sadie glanced up the driveway beyond the blossoms toward the three tiered pagoda that lay a mile up the road. Her back stiff, she took a deep breath and noticed her fingers clenched.
“You know how I feel about visitors.”
“This can’t be helped. It’s his generosity that is allowing us a respite from the city.”
“But Kali.”
“Kali will have to be controlled.” Nephthys sniffed. “The goddess can only exercise her will if you allow it.”
Sadie gritted her teeth. I will not be invisible. She felt her head swim, closed her eyes. “You know that’s not true.”
Nephthys looked into Sadie’s eyes. “She must be made to understand.”
Sadie swallowed. “Oh, I think she understands. She just doesn’t care. It’s compulsion.”
Nephthys nodded, running a hand through Sadie’s glossy black hair.
Out in the distance, a car was making its way up the driveway. A cloud of dust rose up in its wake.
Sadie leaned forward, squinted. “That’s him.”
A hush came over the estate as the pair walked toward the pagoda. Sadie looked directly ahead, her jaw tight. Again, Nephthys ran a hand through her hair, this time giving it a playful tug.
“Hey now.” Sadie said, trying to sound annoyed.
“Sorry Mama.” Nephthys teased. She glanced back at the freshly washed Lexus winding upward. The car skidded to a stop. Fudo San invisible through the window tint.
Nephthys smiled and waved. “Stay calm. Whatever you do, keep the Indian goddess at bay.”
She awoke in the dark. She looked down at her hands. They were milky. She stretched each finger. She reached up, felt her face. It was warm. Heated. Her fingertips felt the contours, the shape. She knew her name. Hecate. But she didn’t recognize her body. The body was a stranger, something fleeting, ghostly. She could still sense the bodiless. They were here too. But they were silent, quieted. She probed out. Yes. They were there but she felt them as if, like her body, they were not hers.
I am Hecate. She thought. Of the Titans.
Hecate stood. She ran her hands through red woven silk, straightened her back, felt a popping in her spine. A wetness settled on her face. She felt it drip down, warm against her skin. She raised her hands slowly, collected the wetness on her finger. The wetness came from her nose as well. She sniffed. But the world was blurry now. Hecate wiped at her sockets.
She squinted at tawny leaves that had collected around her. She wondered how she’d found herself there. Had she been taken? Staring at the moon, she heard howling. First one or two then a whole chorus. She smiled. But there was a crashing sound as well. She tasted something on her tongue. The orange and brown tree leaves were just an assemblage of many. Perhaps ten to twelve large oaks had all deposited leaves in a disarray. Tree branch shadows spun outward like cold, misshapen fingers. Hecate looked past them and saw the dark churning. A rolling rhythm with beads of white crashed outward, downward. The ground underneath her feet suddenly felt flaccid. Hecate shivered. She watched the ocean waves blast onto the shore for five minutes. She felt them as if they were polishing the surface where they crashed. She looked at the glossy sand and walked out to it. She knelt. It’s cold! She looked right then left then spied a pier a short distance away. She felt a pull towards it. It was a tug somewhere in her psyche. The structure was speckled in lights. From where she stood, they were tiny orbs. They reminded her of stars, like the ones above her head. She wanted to reach out to them. But even more than that, she wanted to taste the ocean.
Hecate slipped out of her simple, sheer garment. She felt it fall down her back and onto the feet. She heard a whistle from somewhere close and observed a mortal man also at the water’s edge. He stared at her, his head slowly shaking.
Hecate’s attention went back to the water; It’s icy grip at her ankles, she waded in. A crash sent the taste of salt onto her tongue. She knew the current was strong, already she was shoved this way and that. She rocked as the waves came on. She jumped headfirst, felt the violent jolt as air was forced out of her lungs. The wave rolled onto her, she felt it like a cutting palpation on her back and legs. She gasped in neck high water, danced back to the water’s edge.
Again Hecate felt the pull and glanced at the lights to her left. She swung left and picking up her dress in stride, headed towards the pull. Hecate plunged down the beach at almost a gallop. She stopped to slip the dress back although she couldn’t really say why. Her nakedness didn’t matter. She found after a few minutes, her legs tired. They trembled and she had to sit. But still that pull called out to her.
What is it? She thought.
Hecate stared up at the full moon and began to mumble an incantation. Her wet hair in her face, she brushed it smoothly back with the back of her hand. Her body shook in the breeze. She spoke aloud but her voice trembled. Quickly she realized her words were having no effect. Nothing was manifesting. Her words might as well have been meaningless. Oh no. She tried again, then again. Nothing. Hecate hesitated, probed out to the bodiless. They were there but faint. They would come but were powerless? Was that true? She felt the power in her lingering. A potential as yet untapped but couldn’t call out to it fully. It was as if her magic was only a vestigial spark of what it had been. She wanted to cry out, rage at the churning black in front of her. She seethed through gritted teeth. The bodiless were apathetic. Their shapes darker than the surrounding night. They waited. What are you waiting for? Help me! But like her magic, the dead existed in abeyance.
Hecate found herself breathing hard and tried to calm herself. She looked out at the pier, it was closer now. She could be underneath it in a short time. She headed towards it, ignoring the cuts on her feet. Soon she looked up at cross beams and smelled rotting wood. Above, she heard others passing by. Their voices echoed off the girder, booming down. Hecate felt the pull again. It was like an itch.
“You shouldn’t be here.” A voice said in the dark. Hecate startled, she hadn’t noticed the man sitting at one of the giant beams to her right. He dipped his head in measured civility. His eyes never left her though. Even in the dark, she felt them on her.
“I’m allowed passage anywhere.” She said.
“Nah. I don’t think so. Not wearing that.”
Hecate looked down at the dress that clung to her wet skin. She saw breasts pulling the fabric tight, her pubic area doing the same. The man took a step forward. He tried to smile, rubbed at his lips. He had dark, glittery eyes and a hard, lined face. His wiry frame gave him the appearance of a cricket.
As he got close, Hecate backed further into the dark, toward the adjacent beam opposite to where he had been sitting. She walked back deliberately, turning to her left and then left again. The man followed slowly.
“You shouldn’t have come down here.” She heard him say. “It’s not safe.”
Hecate ducked behind another beam, crouched and took a few paces back towards where he had approached her. On her hands and knees, she crawled forward. Again her mind was pulled by that strange sensation to head further down the water’s edge.
A hand came down and gripped her by the hair. Hecate was thrown back into a beam. She felt warmth where her skull had cracked against the wooden support.
“Fucking bitch!” The man punched her hard in the stomach, then laid atop her, his hand on her mouth.
“You dirty fucking hooker. You meeting a john here?”
Hecate squirmed underneath him, felt hot breath on her face. His other hand on her breasts, he gyrated his hip into her, grinding against her until she felt him hard against her inner thigh.
“Don’t you make a fucking sound.” He whispered. But it was too late. Hecate smashed the rock she had been holding into his face. He screamed as blood spurted from his nose. Hecate felt it spray onto her face and tasted it on her lips. She brought the rock and thrashed him on the side of the head. He toppled back, against the pier beam and gurgled something incoherent. She brought the rock down again. Then again. Hecate leaped toward him, strode silently to stand within kissing distance then brought the rock down multiple times in quick succession. It was a savage array of blows. As she looked down at the mess at her feet, she felt the itch again. She closed her eyes tight until it passed.
Hecate bent close until she was at the man’s ear.
“Bodiless.” She said quietly. “I need answers.”
She sat him upright, his wet, glazed eyes stared up towards the bottom of the pier. Hecate frowned. She turned his head towards her.
“Can you hear me?”
She waited. The man didn’t stir. Hecate stared down at him, chewed at her lip.
“Bodiless!” She snapped. “You will liaise with me!”
Again she waited. They felt faint, just out of reach. The man coughed. Blood sprayed out in a mist. Hecate jerked his chin forward until she was looking into his eyes. “What has happened? Is this the Titans seeking retribution?”
The corpse in front of her gurgled softly. His mouth moving faintly. Hecate bent her ear to his mouth.
“Tell me departed, what is happening?”
The man’s mouth widened as if he was going to take a bite of an apple then a voice that hadn’t been his in life uttered. “You are in front of the veil.”
Hecate gasped and stood quickly. Of course. Why hadn’t she discerned it?
She looked south, felt the itch come back. Hecate went back to the water’s edge and washed her hands and feet. She ducked her head for good measure. The veil is asunder. She thought. Slowly, in ankle deep water, the goddess Hecate began to walk south.
