One last time. Hi. You know me by now. I don’t know why I feel the need to greet you, but I do today. I’m in a bit of a “state”.
As you know, Nettie and I returned to the diner to get the coven’s input. That was yesterday, and we got the call yesterday, and all of this also happened yesterday, but since I’m telling this chronologically, I’m only having to recount it now. For some reason, that’s very distressing to me. Maybe I hadn’t fathomed it before, maybe it shouldn’t have the impact on me that it does. But the human I’ve become is suffering.
Like I already told you, about the same time we set off to talk to Rhonda, Jewel was faking a panic attack. According to bystanders, they were shaking, screaming and thrashing about, yelling at the guards not to touch them. They had to be escorted back to their cell, and one of the wardens took pity and allowed them to have their meal in there, by themself. Whether Jewel had influenced their handler’s mind to achieve this or not I’ll never know, but the fact of the matter was that in a feat of supernatural strength, they ended up snapping their engineered grade plastic flatware, plate and cup into pieces. These dishes were built to create rather safe, dull edges when breaking, but Jewel didn’t use them for the purpose of cutting anything. One by one, they placed them in their mouth and swallowed them.
It was not a quick death, nor was it peaceful or easy. Several shards got lodged in their throat, causing them to choke in the most brutal way. I can only imagine the sight they offered, their face discolored and contorted with their eyes bulging out of their sockets and their mouth wide open, fluids dripping down their chin. They were found mere minutes after, lying on the floor of their cell, surrounded by dozens of tiny, glittering gemstones.
I didn’t cry when Mary explained it all to me. I just got very, very silent and passed the phone on to Nettie. We were back at my savior human’s house. The plan had been to return to the agent’s office right away and proceed according to Rhonda’s advice, but I found myself unable. I wasn’t feeling right, and it must have showed because Nettie chased Kit out of her house and proceeded to sit down with me to spend the entire rest of the day watching cartoons and compilations of dramatic talk show moments. I asked her why I was being weird, and she told me I was grieving.
“For Jewel?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Emotions rarely do, baby girl.”
For a long time, we sat in silence, our eyes on the television screen. I was sitting right beside her, our arms touching. Eventually, she lifted her legs onto the sofa and leaned against me fully, pulling the blanket that covered our laps up to her shoulders. “Are you okay?” I inquired.
“Yeah, just a little chilly.”
“I mean, is your head okay?”
“I honestly couldn’t tell you. I should be thinking something like ‘good riddance’ but I’m a bit… unhappy, in fact. It’s sad how everything turned out. For Jewel, for their victims. Mostly their victims. But I’m feeling strangely removed from it all.”
We continued to watch TV for a few more minutes before I spoke up again. “You know I love you, right? I love you more than anything.”
My savior human turned her head, smiling up at me as she nestled into both the blanket and my shirt. “Yeah. I know.”
That brings us to today’s proceedings. When I headed into the agency building, my chest was heavy with an odd sense of solemn culmination. Mary Markov and I exchanged very curt greetings. She informed me that Will had made a full recovery the day before, which was of course rather happy news. She must have seen in my eyes that I wanted to get this over with, seeing as she quickly led me to the small room from before. She unlocked the door for me and asked whether I wanted her help, which I declined. Letting go of a deep breath, I crossed the threshold, flinching despite myself when I heard the door fall shut behind me.
The naked, lonely bulb hanging from the ceiling bathed the small chamber in a cold, hard light. The crate still occupied the plain table in the center, the broken locks having been removed from the floor. There was nothing separating me from the signal anymore. The work of Jewel’s life on Earth, sitting right before me in a single box. I unloaded my backpack from my shoulders and pulled out the bundle of sage and sticks of incense I had received from the waitresses. Using a couple matches, I lit them on fire, setting them up around the table on their little fireproof coasters. Satisfied with the arrangement, I straightened up again, bracing myself as I reached out to lift the lid of the crate.
It wasn’t exactly light, and the hinges produced a foreboding creaking sound as I opened the box. I took a step back, my throat working as my mind tried to register the sight unveiled to me. Eight pairs of eyes were staring back at me, unblinking, glazed and vacant. Eight severed heads were lined up in the limited space offered by their shared makeshift sarcophagus. My head felt dangerously light. Whether it was the residue energy or the visceral nature of the image before me working me up was beyond me, but I still found it within me to marshall my thoughts and draw closer again. The majority of the heads had been severed cleanly, only two displaying jagged, uneven edges in the places they’d been sliced off. Their facial expressions were uniformly terrified.
The glint of teeth was shining through from between parted, twisted lips. Brows were drawn together or raised, foreheads creased or wrinkled. Some of them looked pleading, others hopeless and rawly panicked. The room began to spin around me and I had to grip the edge of the table to stay on my feet as I struggled to chase away the vivid thoughts of these people’s last moments. A welcome surge of hatred washed over me as my mind turned to the creature that had taken these lives. Jewel, what the fuck have you done?
Surprisingly, all eight heads were in perfect condition, none of them showing signs of decay. I had expected them to be mummified to the same degree as their corresponding bodies, but seeing as Jewel hadn’t sucked the energy out of them, they had apparently retained their fleshy, moisturized forms. I took a moment to gaze into each pair of eyes before letting go of a shuddering breath, reaching out and gently brushing down their lids. Their skin was warm to the touch, almost like the heads were still alive, and it took all my composure not to flinch away from the contact. Pulling out the note Rhonda had given me, I began to read it aloud.
“Gracious Lady, Mother Of All That Lives, I call upon you in the name of the restless of mind, those who remain and not know to pass on; to deliver them from evil, from hate and from uncertainty, to aid them in crossing the brink. Grant them peace and the strength to give themselves over into your open arms once more, to seep into the soil as their bodies have before.”
Lowering the piece of paper, I looked back at the heads, only for my breath to catch in my throat. All eight pairs of eyes were wide open again, trained on me, staring. My heart was thundering in my chest, and my fingers shook as I folded up the note. Obviously, this wasn’t working. I cleared my throat, my voice forcibly hard as I spoke up. “Please listen to me. I know what they did to you. Jewel and the Collective. I know you did not deserve to die, I know what you’ve been through. Trust me when I tell you that I feel for you, more than anyone. But if you don’t give peace now, this whole dimension is going to be swallowed.”
I watched their reaction, or rather the lack thereof. “Please,” I started again. “I don’t know what’s going on in your minds right now, and I won’t claim that I do. I honestly have no idea if you even know what you’re doing, but you’re calling out to something really big and dark, and you have to stop.”
Nothing. Then, out of nowhere, my head started to spin. I was overcome with a horrid nausea, pictures flashing before my inner eye too fast for me to even begin to comprehend them. I saw creatures, some bipedal, others slithering or floating, others again having too many limbs to even count. They ran through my head like a reel, fast and seamless; strangely shaped teeth snapping at me, some twisted like winding roots, others resembling nails or screws. I shrank back, having lost definitive clarity on what was real or not—I was trapped in a haze of terror, a spinning gallery of images, glimpses of lives lived and ended prematurely. It was then that I realized what they were showing me.
I was presented with a whirlwind of original forms, of darkness as they jumped involuntarily and landed on Earth, then of human bodies. Sacks of soft, vulnerable flesh in all shapes, colors and sizes; that crumbled as they were stricken down, the last thing visible to them upon their demise the look of pale eyes behind a black mask. “Stop!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Stop! I know, I know!”
The throbbing in my head slowly subsided, my mind emptying again. “I know,” I repeated, lowering my voice as my racing pulse slowed. “Me too…”
Stepping closer to the crate, I shut the lid and proceeded to wrap my arms around it. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Then, I cleared my head and focused on one singular memory. I took myself back home, to the plains, to my clan. I concentrated on the blackening sky, an image forever etched into my brain—the maw of the Devourer Of Worlds opening, emitting a hovering sound that echoed across the rocky expanse and mixed with the screams of breeders as they threw themselves over their young protectively, clutching each other with all their limbs and tentacles, holding on for dear life. I recalled my own fear, the horror I experienced briefly before the jump, when I thought that death for me was imminent.
Still embracing the box with the heads, I crossed over.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in a small, enclosed space. It was tighter than the room I had started in, and there was a tube light on the ceiling, which was how I knew I had succeeded. I was surprised to have jumped dimensions again, all on my own without Nettie Peterson’s support. I figured I should not have been too shocked, considering I’d done it before, but I suppose I’m not used to things going my way yet.
The weight of the box in my arms suddenly reminded me of my purpose, and I grunted when I felt my knees buckle. I sat down the crate and then reached for the door handle. If I was going to do this, I would have to make sure that this dimension was empty. Thus, I stepped outside. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but what followed certainly wasn’t it. I found myself in an identical room small enough that it looked cramped despite being empty. The lamp overheard was flickering ominously. Throwing a glance over my shoulder, my stomach lurched when I saw that the door I had just entered was not there anymore. In its place was nothing but a solid wall. The only exit in sight was another, perfectly identical across the room.
I quickly walked over to it, opened it and slipped through. Another chamber, another wavering lamp. Yeah, I could see where this was going. Just to be safe, I decided to check out a few more rooms. Quickly passing on to the next one, I could only spot a single difference—the light seemed to have gotten dimmer. I had just gotten past the center when I picked up on a faint, low noise. A whisper, barely audible, like a mosquito buzzing somewhere beside my left ear. I was still by myself, but I was sure it wasn’t my mind playing tricks on me. With a shudder, I thought back to the staircase dimension, and what Nettie and I had seen in the darkness. I hurried on to the next room, then the next, then the next.
The whispers were getting louder, but no less incomprehensible. I picked up my pace, breaking into a sprint as I took on the next four rooms, each door creaking as I tore it open and slamming shut behind me. My heart was pounding in my chest, lungs aflame, and I was forced to slow down. The steady murmurs droned on, enveloping me as they became progressively intrusive, building up to an unbearable hum.
“You have beautiful eyes.”
I whipped my head around. No. No way. I was alone, I was most definitely by myself, and Jewel was…
“Kill me, for pity’s sake. I don’t wanna live! I don’t wanna live—”
Their voice was ringing in my ears, echoing off the walls of my skull, hard and desperate, bright and crystal clear like a sad song. I clasped my hands over my ears, hot tears mingling with the beads of sweat running down my face. I had come to a complete halt, my chest heaving in both exertion and panic. It was then that I realized I was sinking. Looking down at myself, I found that the better part of my lower legs had already disappeared into the floor. I wasn’t standing on solid ground anymore, rather being absorbed by dark, quicksand-like sludge. I tried to lift my foot, only for the morass to cling to it like glue. I started thrashing, writhing, wriggling in a frenzy, only for my knees to buckle and send me sprawling into the hungry mire. Hungry. Yes. This was what it must feel like to be devoured.
My throat was dry and rough as sandpaper as a scream was released from my lips, a cry to fall only onto the deaf ears of the four walls around me. The slush stuck to my cheek as I reared my head, tugging harshly on my cheek and eliciting a pained yowl. I pushed myself up on my hands and knees, gasping for air as a drop of black goo sealed the corner of my mouth. I whined, my head feeling as though it might burst from pressure. I would not wait to be swallowed. I had to get out.
I stopped moving, stopped struggling. I gave myself over to the fear, the despair, leaning into the feeling, the image of purplish pale irises before my inner eye. Gone. Dead.
I jumped.
The second I landed on the floor of the chamber back at the agency’s complex, I took in a sharp, cleansing breath, basking in the suddenly very welcome glow of the meek little bulb. I staggered to my feet, arching my back and stretching my arms before turning to look at the table. It was empty. The crate was gone. Soon enough, the dimension I had just left would be eaten by the Devourer Of Worlds, called forth by those horrid weeping heads. Perhaps then they would have peace.
Mary Markov greeted me outside in the hallway. “You did it. I saw everything,” she twinkled. “There’s a camera inside, of course. And might I just thank you expressly for the first dimensional jump to ever be recorded on film?”
I nodded. “Say, do you have time next Saturday?”
“Is this as regards to your interest in formal wear?”
“Yes.”
She smiled. “I’ve time then. We can meet up here, at around eleven.”
“Do you ever not work?”
“Rarely,” she replied. “I juggle two careers, what do you expect? This is good, though. I can pick up some things for myself while I’m at it.” A slightly absent look came to her eyes as her lips curled dreamily. “I wish there were two of me,” she muttered. “It’d be so much easier.”
Acknowledging this, I turned to leave, only for Mary Markov to stop me once more. From the leather case hanging off her shoulder, she produced a manila folder which she extended to me. “You should give this a read.”
I took it from her, pulling it to my chest as I gave her a prompting look.
She sighed indulgently. “It’s a contract. An offer. You are as much a liability as you are an asset. You’re… highly volatile, and—”
“I don’t know that I appreciate being called highly volatile—”
“—and yet the most powerful interdimensional known to us. You could be a valued associate, and of course regularly and properly compensated. This line of work may be more mentally and emotionally challenging than driving out deliveries, but I think it might just be exactly what you’re looking for.”
“What a bold statement,” I remarked, grinning broadly. Taken aback by my expression, Mary faltered for a second, tilting her head at me and giving me a small, surprised quirk of her mouth in return. “Has anyone ever told you you have a lovely smile?” she inquired.
I bagged the folder and headed for the door. What to do with my day, now that this was done? I pulled out my phone, the screen lighting up with several new messages. My savior human had apparently created a group chat titled Save The Humans, including herself, Kit Sutton, Elijah Carter, Frankie Preston and me.
“How did it go? At Eva,” was her first message.
Kit had answered underneath, “Yeah I wanna know.” (Three w’s.) “I’m doing my set at the diner now though so phone’s off. But if you’ve worked it out, I’ll actually be so happy.” (Three o’s in so.)
As if to confirm, Frankie had uploaded a short video taken with his phone camera of my roommate hunched over her guitar in her nook at Tom’s. Eli replied that he would be coming to the diner, too, once he’d properly woken up. He’d taken a day off and was really lying back, it seemed. More power to him, honestly.
“I’ll meet you there,” I typed. “It went well.”
“So we’re safe? Just like that?”—Eli
“Yes,” I replied.
“Come over, I want to hold you.”—Frankie
“Wow. I’m so intensely relieved right now. Not even joking or anything, I’m so glad. You’re okay, right?”—Eli
Nettie just sent a bunch of green hearts, adding that she would join us later. Accordingly, I made my way over to Tom’s Diner. I could already hear Kit’s voice ringing out from inside, accompanied by the rhythmic strumming of her guitar. I opened the door and quietly slipped inside, which really wouldn’t have been necessary, because she instantly whipped up her head, interrupting her singing to blurt out, “Oh hi, Eva!”
I gave her a small wave, leaving her to finish her song as I searched for a good spot to sit. My usual booth was occupied, in fact, the whole diner was packed. I ended up plopping down on one of the high stools in front of the counter, behind which Paloma was busy drying off a large clean carafe. She gave me a bright smile, then threw her head back and called out, “Frankie, your wife’s here!”
I squirmed in my seat. Glad that’s catching on.
It was worth it though when the waiter came bounding out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron before wrapping his arms around me. His curls tickled my ear as he pressed me against his chest, and I inhaled deeply, sucking in the scent of soap, desinfectant and ground coffee that always seemed to cling to him. “I’m so proud of you,” he said against the side of my face. “You’re divine.”
That got a laugh out of me, and he looked genuinely pleased as he pulled back. “The usual?” he asked, cocking his head.
“Sure.”
Nettie and Elijah Carter arrived together, my savior human carrying a pink hardpaper box which she cautiously placed on the counter. After she was done squeezing the air out of me, I asked her what was inside, to which she revealed that she had made and decorated a birthday cake for Elijah’s mother. With a glint in her eyes, she lifted the lid so I could catch a glimpse of it. I recoiled. “You told me never to say that word,” I remarked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, voice silky and sounding like she very much did know. “It says ‘Happy Birthday, Aunt.’ In cursive.”
I took another look at the frosting. “The A looks like a C.”
“Does it?” Nettie grinned. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Elijah Carter sighed, but he smiled as he shook his head and placed a supportive hand on his cousin’s shoulder. They proceeded to order up burgers and sit down with me. Kit Sutton was just starting to play Trashbag In The Summer Sun, also a new composition of hers, and we all just listened.
I think I’m going to get my driver’s license, and then I’m probably going to accept Mary Markov’s job offer. I’m happy being stuck on earth.