H. Mallory - Ghouls Rush In

When I looked up, I was standing in front of the mirror above the sink. The steam seemed to cling to the mirror, keeping the whole thing cloudy. As I watched the vapor slowly dissipate, I could see it was leaving something behind on the mirror—words.

Taking a few steps closer, my eyes went wide and my fight-or-flight reflex was on high alert. Somehow, I couldn’t retreat, not until I read what the mirror said. The steam continued to dissipate, revealing paragraphs of text. The font was so small, I had to take a few steps closer in order to read it.

Hell, April 15, 2014

Esteemed Mortal:

They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being but a spirit and a fell demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman.

When I see fit, I shall come again and claim other victims. I alone know who they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody ax, besmeared with the blood and brains of him whom I have sent below to keep me company.

If you wish you may tell the police not to rile me. Of course I am a reasonable spirit. I take no offense at the way they have conducted their investigation in the past. But tell them to beware. Let them not try to discover what I am, for it were better that they were never born than to incur the wrath of the Axeman.

Now, to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to visit again.

The Axeman

It was the Axeman’s famous letter that first appeared in the New Orleans Times-Picayune newspaper in 1919. Only now it was on my bathroom mirror and it had today’s date. I heard myself screaming at the exact time that I twirled around on my toes, before running headlong into Christopher’s black cape.

“Yow!” he yelled. He spun around to face me, his cape catching air and billowing over my head. I screamed again, thinking the Axeman was enveloping me in his darkness. Then I felt cold hands on my upper arms as the cape fell away and I looked up at an enraged Christopher.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he screamed at me, his eyes popping out of his head.

But I was too breathless to think, and much too overwhelmed and terrified to make a sound. Instead, I shook my head as I turned around, pointing to the mirror. Christopher gave me a bizarre expression, which I didn’t understand, before entering the bathroom and approaching the mirror. He stood there for a few seconds while he read the Axeman’s message.

That was when I noticed his companion—a slightly overweight African American woman with a beautiful face, full lips, and wide brown eyes. She was maybe in her late forties or early fifties. She wore a red-and-purple head scarf thing that looked like a turban, based on the way she’d wrapped it on her head. Her blouse was red and white and matched the floor-length skirt that billowed out from her waist.

Her eyes were closed as she hummed something to herself. Then, she turned around and held her arms out before her as if she were blindly groping toward the door. Moments later, she opened her eyes and looked at me as she shook her head.

“This is no good, Christopher,” she said in a Southern accent. That really threw me because, judging by her appearance, I figured she was Jamaican or Haitian.

Even though she spoke to Christopher, her eyes remained on me. I heard the sound of Christopher’s footsteps as he walked back into the bedroom.

“It’s far worse than not good, Lovie,” he answered with a deeply heartfelt sigh. He spun on his toes and stared at me. “It’s a demon,” he announced, as if I hadn’t already read the letter and figured that much out for myself.

“Did you notice the date?” I inquired, wondering if my heartbeat would regulate anytime soon.

“Today’s date,” he answered. Lovie started for the bathroom, her curiosity no doubt piqued by what we’d said about the letter.

I nodded. “It says he’s going to visit again next Tuesday night…,” I started. Taking another deep breath, I began to feel dizzy. “Based on the fact that it’s dated with today’s date, do you think it’s safe to assume he means this coming Tuesday? April 22?”

“I believe in instances such as this one, it is always better to assume the worst and plan accordingly,” Christopher answered. I figured that was a yes. Christopher chewed his lip. “We must act quickly, then,” he concluded.

At that moment, Lovie returned from the bathroom and faced us both with a worried expression. “This demon is growin’ stronger,” she announced. “I can feel its energy pulsin’ throughout this house. I’m havin’ a difficult time keepin’ my psychic walls up.”

“If you need to take a break, Lovie, go outside,” Christopher answered matter-of-factly.

I faced him and from the corner of my eye, caught Lovie shaking her head. My heartbeat started to pound again. “Can you tell if Drake is still here?” I demanded. “Is he still with us?”

Christopher closed his eyes, and moments later they started to twitch like he was in REM sleep. When he reopened them, he eyed me and simply nodded. But his expression didn’t bring me any sort of comfort. “He is waning rapidly.”

“Then we have to get on with it!” I announced, throwing my hands in the air like we’d spent too much time gabbing when we should have been focusing on Drake. “Whatever we have to do to keep him safe, we need to do it now!”

Lovie glanced at Christopher with a dubious look on her face. “Have you explained to her,” she started, but Christopher’s crisp shake of his head interrupted her.

“I have not,” he answered as they both turned their eyes from each other to me.

“Explained what to me?” I demanded.

Christopher arched one eyebrow, which lent him a serious expression. “Explained what is involved to save your friend from this entity.”

“I don’t care!” I rebutted. “Whatever it’s going to take, we need to do it and we need to start now!”

Christopher cleared his throat as Lovie frowned. “In order to save him, you must make a very personal sacrifice,” he said.

I shook my head in wonder, because I had no clue what he was talking about. “A personal sacrifice? What does that mean? Like donate some blood?” For some reason, the image of a ritual involving a few drops of my blood was playing through my mind.

“Blood is not enough,” Christopher said between tight lips. “You must share your body with him.”

“Huh?” I managed, thinking this was sounding like we were delving into some weird ghost-sex area that I found not only uncomfortable but also unfeasible—at least, as far as I knew.

“You gotta allow his spirit to possess you!” Lovie exclaimed impatiently. She sounded both frustrated and amused as she shook her head at Christopher.

“Possess me?” I repeated, thinking maybe I should have read the fine print before I signed myself up for saving Drake’s soul.

“It wouldn’t be like The Exorcist ,” Christopher said. Waving a hand at me, he implied that I was overreacting. “You both would simply share the same body.”

“Share my body?” I repeated again, thinking the idea sounded completely unattractive.

“It’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Christopher continued. “My domicile has been shared with many spirits over the years.”

I supposed “sharing a domicile” was the euphemism for demonic possession. Although it didn’t exactly surprise me to learn Christopher had been possessed; based on his career as a warlock, it sort of seemed par for the course. I also had to wonder if he was possessed now, because the way he dressed and spoke seemed anachronistic, to say the least. As far as my willingness to allow myself to be possessed, now that was an altogether different subject.