Thomas Sniegoski - In the House of the Wicked

The anchors gushed about how inspirational the child was, and Remy was about to change the channel when his cell phone began to ring. He snatched it from the table and saw that it was Ashley’s number. But instead of relief, it now filled him with dread.

“Remy,” he said.

There was that pause again, that hollow rushing sound before the old voice began to speak.

“There’s a farm on the outskirts of town. Used to belong to the Deacon family…Do you remember them?”

“Can’t say that I do,” Remy answered truthfully.

The voice went silent, and Remy wasn’t sure if the line was still open.

“Hello? Are you-”

“Never mind,” the voice interrupted. “They haven’t been in the public eye for quite some time. They were once like royalty, you know.”

“And what does that have to do with-”

“You will go to that farm and wait,” the voice instructed.

“Wait for what?”

“I need to be sure of you, Remy Chandler,” the voice said. “I need to be sure that you are what the girl showed me.”

“Ashley has no idea what I am…and neither do you.”

The voice laughed, a sound like old, dried leaves being crushed.

“I know exactly what you are, angel.”

“Why are you doing this?” Remy asked.

“Because I can, angel,” the voice said. “Because I can.”

Beacon Hill

Fall 2008

Remy found Ashley sitting on the steps of her brownstone, staring straight ahead at nothing. Madeline had given him the news: Spooky had died that morning.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down beside the teenager. He handed her a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee.

“Hey,” she said back, carefully taking the cup.

“Two creams, one Sweet’N Low?” he asked.

She nodded, peeling away that little piece of plastic on the lid so she could sip the hot drink. “Right. Thanks.”

“Are you all right?” Remy asked, taking the cover off his own cup of strong black coffee.

“Did you hear?” she asked.

“Yeah, Maddie told me. I’m really sorry, kiddo.”

She nodded quickly, and he could see a fresh tear spill down her cheek. She had some more of her coffee.

“She stopped eating yesterday,” Ashley said. “Didn’t matter what we gave her. We even tried sliced turkey. She loved sliced turkey, but she wouldn’t even take that.”

“I guess it was just time,” Remy said.

“Yeah,” Ashley agreed. “She was pretty old.”

“Had a good life, though,” Remy assured her.

“Ya think?” she asked. She turned her head to look at him, and Remy was surprised to see not the little girl he’d first met on that hot summer’s day in ’96, but a young woman dealing with one of the sad facts of life.

Everything eventually died.

It was something that he still wrestled with in his own immortal existence, one of the difficult truths of being human.

“Sure,” Remy said. He drank some more of his coffee, thinking about what he was going to say. “She had somebody who loved and cared for her, who gave her a safe place to live. I really don’t think a cat could want for anything else. Do you?”

She thought about it for a moment, taking a long sip from her drink.

“You’re probably right,” she finally agreed.

They were both quiet for a bit. He could tell that she was still thinking, working things out. Remy was glad that he was sitting with her, wanting to do everything he could to help ease the pain.

“Spooky slept with me last night,” Ashley said. “She never slept with me. I think it was because she wanted to sleep exactly in the center, and that’s where I would be… But last night she came into my room and meowed for me, and I had to help her up onto the bed…” She sniffled as more tears began to fall.

“She got onto the bed and sat down…and looked at me. It was kinda giving me the creeps, so I asked her what her problem was, and she just gave me one of those disgusted-Spooky looks and lay down right beside me.”

Ashley began to cry, and Remy moved closer, putting his arm around her.

“She started to purr, Remy,” she continued. “Spooky never purred…but last night, she started to purr and then she went to sleep.”

She cried some more, and he said nothing, choosing instead to just hold her.

“She…she was…gone when I woke up,” Ashley said, struggling to get the words out. “She must’ve died sometime in the night.”

“A nice way to go,” Remy said. “Sleeping beside the one you love.”

They sat like that for quite some time, the sun slowly setting, the warmth of it gradually overcome by the evening’s chill.

“Did you ever have to deal with this kind of thing, Remy?” Ashley asked him.

“Sure,” he said, remembering without regret the pets and the acquaintances he had lost in his seemingly endless existence. How empty his life would have been without them. They had helped him to be what he was today. “It never gets any easier.”

“Didn’t think it would,” she said, tipping the cup back and finishing the last of her coffee.

“Don’t let this experience spoil it for you,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Ashley asked, looking at him.

“What you’re feeling now, the sadness…don’t let it take away from all the happiness that you had with Spooky… It’s too special to be spoiled by a sad fact of life.”

“Everything dies,” Ashley said.

“Afraid so.” Remy nodded.

They sat for a bit longer, and finally she had had enough of the fall chill in the air and stood.

“I’m getting cold. I think I’ll head in now.”

“You gonna be all right?” he asked her, standing up from the steps.

“I’m good,” she said. “Sad…but good.”

Remy understood perfectly. “You hang in there, all right?” he told her.

“Yeah, it’ll probably take a little time, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Good to hear.” He headed down the steps. “If you need anything, give me a call.”

“Will do,” Ashley said, climbing the stairs to the building’s front door. “Thanks, Remy.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, already on his way when he stopped. “Oh, Ash?” he called to her.

She was halfway in the door but turned back to see what he wanted.

He’d been thinking about this for a while, and he and Madeline had pretty much decided that they would do it.

“We’re thinking about getting a dog,” he told Ashley. “How would you feel about that?”

He could see the beginning of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

“A dog? Really? What kind?”

“Maybe a Labrador or a golden retriever.”

“Labs are awesome,” she said. “I think that would be pretty cool, especially if you let me babysit.”

“It’s a deal,” Remy said, waving as he turned the corner.

A Lab it is.

It hadn’t taken Remy long to find the Deacon farm. It had been pretty much where the voice on his phone had told him it would be.

The dilapidated main house and the skeletal remains of a barn next door were at the end of an unkempt dirt road that Remy had found behind a rusted chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. As he moved closer to the old farmhouse, he could see the wide expanse of weed-covered fields beyond. It had been a long time since anything of use was taken from this land.

From what he understood, the Deacons were once one of the country’s wealthiest families, starting out in farming but then branching off into gunpowder during the Civil War. It wasn’t long before they were producing virtually all American gunpowder. The family was wiped out after a tragic accident claimed the last Deacon and his heir sometime during the forties.

Remy stood before the front porch, wondering if he was alone. Perhaps Ashley’s kidnapper wanted to make him squirm a bit, or maybe he had no intention whatsoever of showing up.