Jon Merz - Vicarious

The steps to Darius’ house lay before her. She looked down and saw her bare feet begin moving up them.

She got to the door.

And frowned.

Lauren tried walking through the door and found herself inside the house.

Walking into darkness.

Stairs ahead of her seemed to draw her up them, so she obeyed. Her feet padded noiselessly on the treads. No creaks betrayed her weight.

In her mind, Lauren wondered if she was really there or simply dreaming the entire thing.

She continued climbing the steps.

At the top, she turned. She could go either left or right.

But she felt drawn right.

A door stood open a crack and she eased herself inside.

There.

Darius.

In his bed.

Moaning.

She frowned. What was he doing?

She moved closer. His mouth moved but his voice sounded different. She stooped closer, trying hard to hear what he was saying.

She stood back.

Darius wasn’t speaking English.

The words coming out of his mouth didn’t seem as though he was speaking at all. An ancient flavor tinged the words that rolled off his tongue. They sounded like some sort of evil liturgy.

Lauren grimaced as Darius flipped over in his bed.

It reminded her of a possession she had once seen a documentary on. Or even the scene from the Exorcist.

Inside, she struggled to stay where she was. Part of her, a big part of her, wanted to come back to the quiet solitude and relative peace of her bedroom. It was safe there.

Safer than where she stood right now.

But a bigger part of her remained curious about Darius.

What was going on with him?

What was he saying?

The rhythmic speech continued. Low and almost monotonous.

Lauren looked around Darius’ room. She could see some dumbbells in the darkness. She could see the sparse items lining the top of his bureau.

In the background, Darius continued to speak.

She turned her attention back at him.

Almost with the kind of interest a researcher might have for a test subject, she appraised him. This man, this demon, could well bring about the ruin of the entire planet. He could be responsible for the deaths of millions of innocent people.

He could unleash the greatest evil the world had ever known.

Objectively, she marveled at his relative obscurity. After all, Darius wasn’t a giant specimen of a man. He was ordinary. Gray almost.

Therein lay the danger.

Being ordinary, no one would suspect him of anything. Lauren remembered something a self-defense instructor once told her. “When something comes from nothing, it’s always a big surprise.”

She nodded in the darkness. Something from nothing.

Subjectively, Lauren wanted to see Darius struck down. She wanted him to fail in his quest. Who knew what kind of punishment he might get for failing to free his master?

I wish I could have brought my gun with me, she thought.

And then again, she felt herself unsure of whether this was just a dream.

Or if she was really in Darius’ bedroom.

He kept speaking.

The words were lower now. The same degree of monotony kept them from being audible beyond what sounded like grunting.

Lauren frowned. What was he saying?

She sat on the edge of his bed before she realized she’d done it. She glanced down but saw no evidence that her weight had caused any disturbance. In fact, she didn’t even seem to be registering on his mattress at all.

Just another astral traveler, she thought.

And then that notion felt weird to her as well.

She leaned closer to Darius’ mouth. She could hear the words, almost feel the heat of his breath tickling the fine hairs along her neck and ear.

Whatever language he was speaking, Lauren had never heard it before. Not that that was so unusual, she didn’t have much aptitude for languages.

The words coming out of Darius’ mouth died down to a mere whisper. It sounded like a hiss in the night. Like some slimy snake had slithered out his hole.

Only to retreat again.

She shuddered as the hissing continued. It crept up her back, all along her spine and ran down her arms in goosebumps. There was evil in what Darius spoke.

Pure evil.

Lauren felt sure that she might even be hearing the voice of his master speaking to his servant as he slept.

Were they instructions for the next victim?

She tried once more to lean in close and hear what Darius was saying. If she could pick out a name, perhaps. Maybe then they could stop Darius from killing the man or woman chosen to die.

As she leaned closer, the voice suddenly stopped.

Lauren turned her head.

Darius’ eyes were wide open.

Looking at her.

And then as he smiled there in the darkness, his mouth opened and more words came out.

“Hello Lauren.”

Lauren jerked upright.

Back in her own bed.

She heaved, trying to flush oxygen into her lungs. Sweat ran down her forehead. The sheets around her felt damp all the way down in between her legs.

She ran a hand over her forehead and it came away soaking wet.

Lauren dropped her head into her hands and breathed slowly for a few more minutes. My god, she thought, what happened to me?

Had she really traveled out of her body? Had she seen Darius in his bed? Had he known she was there?

“He spoke to me,” she said in the quiet of her bedroom.

And the fear she’d felt at that moment when he did suddenly came crashing back into her chest, seizing her like some icy death grip. She shivered, gathering the sheets up around her. Even her sweat felt cold now.

Outside the winds shooshed past her window. The branches scraped the glass. Even the shadows in her room seemed longer than they had…she glanced at her alarm clock.

2:45

My God, she thought, did it really take me so long to dream this?

Was it even a dream?

She reached over the bed and found the phone. Shakily, she pushed the buttons for Curran’s home number.

It rang.

And rang.

“Please answer,” she said quietly.

Another three rings — just as she was getting ready to hang up — someone picked up on the other end.

“Yeah?”

“Steve?”

The voice became alert. “Lauren. Yeah. What’s up? What time is it?”

“Almost three.”

“God.” He paused. “You okay?”

“I…I had a bad dream.”

“A bad dream? What, like a nightmare?”

“It felt real enough.”

Curran cleared his throat. “I’ve had some of those lately myself.”

“Steve. I think it might have been.”

“Explain that to me. I’m a little groggy.”

“I dreamed I was in Darius’ house. Walking around. I walked upstairs.” She hesitated. “I saw him, Steve.”

“You saw him? Darius?”

“Yes.”

“What was he doing?”

“He was asleep. In his bed.”

“Describe his bedroom to me.”

“Not much to describe. It’s not very nicely decorated. A bed, some exercise weights, a dresser I think, that’s about it.”

Another pause. Longer this time. “Okay. So what happened?”

“He was mumbling in his sleep.”

“You hear what he was saying?”

“It was in some weird language. One I’ve never heard before.”

“Plenty of those around. Could have been anything.”

“It sounded old, Steve. Very ancient. Almost singsong. It scared me listening to it like I was.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Is it possible I heard him communicating with…?” She trailed off; surprised she didn’t want to say it herself. As if saying it would reinforce the idea that it had actually happened.

“The Devil?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know,” said Curran. “I suppose anything is possible at this point.”