Keene Brian - A Gathering of Crows

“I’ve got to rest. Please? Just for a minute.”

Nodding, he guided her to a row of shrubbery in front of an abandoned house. They ducked down behind the untrimmed bushes and caught their breath. Their stifled gasps were punctuated by screams and cries from nearby streets.

Marsha shivered.

“Are you cold?” Donny asked.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”

“Me, too.”

“Even after… what you saw over there?”

“Sure. Iraq was Iraq. This is different. I lived here.”

Despite their situation, Marsha noticed that he referred to Brinkley Springs in the past tense rather than the present. She decided not to mention it. Now wasn’t the time.

Donny reached out and took her hand again.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I don’t know. Everything. Brandon… He was just a kid. We shouldn’t have just left him like that.”

“No,” Donny agreed. “We shouldn’t have. It wasn’t right. But if we hadn’t, then we’d both be dead right now. I don’t give a shit about me, but I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Marsha stared at him, unable to speak. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. Then Donny cleared his throat and peered through the branches, watching the street.

“I hope my parents and my brother are okay,”

Marsha said. “They have to be, right?”

“Where were they tonight?”

“At home. Mom and Dad were watching TV and Randy had friends over—Sam and Stephanie.”

“You mean little Stephanie Hall?”

“I sure do. Except she’s not that little anymore.”

Donny grinned. “No kidding? Is he going out with her?”

“Who knows? I think she likes playing him and Sam against each other.”

“Well, that’s not right. I always liked your little brother. He’s a good kid. Little weird, what with all the hip-hop stuff, but still a good kid.”

“You don’t have to live with him. He’s a pain in the ass.” Her voice softened. “But he likes you, too. He was excited when he heard you were back. I think he hoped you’d stick around. He missed you, Donny. We all did.”

Donny didn’t reply. Instead he focused on the street again. Marsha sensed that she’d struck a nerve and decided it might be best to change the subject.

“Where are we going, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “We should hide somewhere. I don’t reckon it makes sense to go back to my mom’s place. No way of knowing if those fuckers are still around there or not. If they are, they’ve got us outnumbered.”

“Who were they?”

“Something… not normal. Did you see how fast they moved? Nothing normal moves like that.”

“What are you saying, Donny? That they were demons or something?”

“Hell, I don’t know what I’m saying. I mean, I didn’t used to believe in that stuff. But I heard things. Over in Iraq. Guys talked, you know? I reckon you see enough of the worst shit imaginable, then you start to believe in evil. Real evil, like what they taught us in Sunday school when we were little. There’s so much more to our planet, Marsha. It’s a big world out there beyond these mountains, and we don’t know as much about it as we think we do.”

Marsha opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.

“Look, forget it. All I’m saying is that we need to be careful. We got lucky back there, and if we come across those fuckers again, I don’t think we’d get that lucky a second time. I need to make sure you’re safe.

I don’t know what I’d do if one of them got you.”

“Donny…”

He turned toward her, and Marsha saw the tears in his eyes. She reached for him, cradled his face in her hands and then pulled him toward her. He didn’t resist. Their lips met, and when Marsha closed her eyes, the darkness seemed to fade a bit.

Somewhere overhead, a bird cried out.

Levi stopped chanting and frowned in concern.

There had been no reaction to his summons. By this point in the ritual, the departed soul should have returned to the body, regardless of which plane of existence it now inhabited. He checked the symbols and incantations and reconfirmed that all were in place and correct. Then he addressed the corpse.

“Can you hear me? If so, then I command you to tell me who did this to you.”

The dead man didn’t answer. Levi watched the corpse’s face, looking for some sign of movement or awareness, no matter how slight, but nothing changed. The body was as soulless and empty as when he’d first found it. But why? What had gone wrong? This was simple necromancy, after all. Not a discipline to be trifled with or taken lightly, of course, but not nearly as hard as many other occult tasks. Even if the man had been dead for hours, Levi should still have been able to pull the soul back. It wasn’t until decay set in that such a summoning became useless. After all, how could a dead man be expected to answer questions with a decomposing tongue?

“Are you there? Please, I only want to help. Perhaps you are confused by your situation? Can you tell me your name? Can you tell me who did this to you?”

Silence. Levi’s frown deepened. There should have been some spark, some indication that the soul had temporarily returned to its former home. For whatever reason, he had failed. He was no closer to knowing what he was dealing with, and while his questions remained unanswered, the situation in Brinkley Springs grew more desperate by the minute. Even now, the screams drew closer. He needed to face this—whatever it was. He had to save these people. Had to defeat it. But to do that, he needed the name of the entities. He needed to know whom or what he was fighting. All power stemmed from naming.

Without a name, the situation was hopeless.

Desperate, Levi racked his brain for an alternative. His hands curled into fists and his fingernails dug into the skin of his palms. He didn’t notice the pain. For a brief moment, he found himself wishing that the Siqqusim—a race of incorporeal beings used as soothsayers by the ancient Sumerians—weren’t sealed away in the void. He could have done as the Sumerian priests used to do and cast one of the entities into the body of this dead man, thus giving it a voice. But to do so—to breach the veil—was beyond his abilities. Indeed, he didn’t know anyone on Earth who could achieve that.

So what’s the point of standing around here and mulling it over? What’s wrong with me? I’m better than this. I bested Nodens two years ago. I should be able to do this.

Think, man. Think!

“Crows,” he whispered, staring up into the sky. “Dark men dressed in black. The systematic slaughter of innocents. But why? For what purpose? Simple cruelty? What am I dealing with here, Lord? Any help you can give me would be greatly appreciated.”

The heavens were as silent as the corpse. Levi had expected as much.

“God helps those who help themselves,” he muttered. “But He sure doesn’t make it easy for them.”

Hurrying footsteps caught his attention. Levi glanced up in time to see two young people—a man and a woman—step out of the shadows. The man appeared to be in his midtwenties. He wore blue jeans and a flannel shirt, both of which hugged the contours of his body. He was in good physical shape. His brown hair was cropped close to his head and shaved down to stubble on the sides. Levi recognized the haircut. It was what members of the military called a “high and tight.” He assumed that this young man was either a soldier or a marine—or had been until recently. The woman he was with appeared to be about the same age. She was slim and pretty, with mournful brown eyes that matched her long hair, and a fair complexion.

Spotting him, they halted. The girl gasped. Both of them were obviously terrified. They glanced down at the body and then up at Levi. He held up his hands and smiled to show that he meant them no harm.