Twisted and Accursed, Chapter 18

“They’re looking for you, Taylor.” The ghost of Alice told her, smiling and revealing all the needle-like teeth behind her withered lips and too-wide mouth. Alice’s hair splayed outwards, like black webs or ancient branches. Her pale and chalky skin appeared almost like the surface of moon in the night. And yet, Taylor was pretty sure that no one else could see the creepy ghost; otherwise, people would’ve already started screaming. She’d sent out Alice’s ghost earlier to scout ahead of her, to see what was going on in Brockton Bay and... it wasn’t pretty. There were thousands of tents right outside the city, where the survivors of Sukuna’s and Lung’s apocalyptic battle had gathered, since... well... their homes were gone.

Beyond that, however, quite a lot of the city remained somewhat intact, despite the extensive damage caused by Lung’s heat and flames. Heroes and... surprisingly, villains roamed and patrolled the streets. Briefly, Taylor spotted the form of a familiar heroine in white, blonde hair and supermodel features – Glorygirl, a member of New Wave.

Alice hadn’t been able to give more in depth detail, but it was easy to connect the dots. There was a pact of sorts, between the PRT and the various gangs of Brockton Bay; whatever agreement they had meant they wouldn’t be attacking each other and, instead, would kind of try to keep the peace. And, all things considered, it was working. Contrary to what she’d expected, there was no mass looting or riots or any other portent of city-wide doom. Sure, there was some chaos here and there, but it seemed that, for now, there was a truce between the big players of Brockton Bay.

Taylor wasn’t entirely certain if that was a good thing or a bad thing, that Sukuna’s actions had somehow united heroes and villains against her, which was about the same status as a member of the Slaughterhouse 9 or, worse, an Endbringer. The thought did not sting as much as she’d expected. Then again, she’d had a few days to acclimate and come to terms with the fact that her whole life was now... fucked beyond repair, fucked beyond any hope. She wasn’t even sure why she came back. All things considered, this was probably the worst thing she could’ve done. And yet, she was here, now, standing in the middle of a dusty street, face and body shrouded by a very baggy sweater she’d found and pilfered off of an abandoned store.

Was it theft? Probably. She did make sure to memorize the price of the sweater, however, and promised to herself to return, one day, and leave a $5 bill on the counter. Beyond that, the sweater would, at the very least, hide her well enough that the first hero – or villain – to see her wouldn’t figure out her identity immediately, since her hair, perhaps the most defining characteristic that Taylor was actually proud of, was a dead giveaway. She didn’t want to be arrested. She wanted to go home and see if her dad was there, to see if he was alright. Maybe talking to him would set things straight. Maybe he’d be able to make sense of all this.

Unlikely. But... who else was there? Her dad was... the only family- no... her dad was the only person left in the world she held a modicum of trust for, aside from her Ghosts, but then they were already dead.

Taylor sighed and nodded. “Thanks, Alice.”

“No problem!”

There were a few people walking about the desolate streets, men and women in ragged clothes. The recent destruction, Taylor figured, must’ve ravaged the city’s water system and either screwed the whole thing entirely or created a shortage. That was... not good. Briefly, Taylor wondered if a few of her Ghosts possessed water-based abilities, like those who drowned... somehow, during Lung’s rampage. Yeah, she definitely had to get more acquainted with the other Ghosts and figure out their abilities. There were a lot of them and, chances were, each one had a very unique talent. But, she had time. Right now, her only concern was meeting her father.

“Hey, Alice,” Taylor said, smiling. “Mister Randall, Liam... can you guys maybe form some kind of perimeter around me? That way, if anyone approaches, we’ll see them ahead of time.”

“Of course, Taylor,” Mister Randall said, smiling before the three of them dispersed, disappearing into the shadows between the buildings. Taylor felt their presence, however, that thin line that connected her thoughts with theirs. It was a strange thing to consider, a mental connection to the Ghosts, but it was there and there was no denying that. If necessary, Taylor could call on them with but a mental command. That said, actively talking to them was better for her sanity and, all things considered, the Ghosts themselves liked talking as well; Alice, in particular, actively enjoyed the most random conversations. Plus, if Taylor was being honest with herself, she actually liked having another girl to talk to, even if Alice was technically a child. In an odd way, it felt like she had a little sister – a creepy, tall, wiry, horrific little sister whose mere presence could probably cause old people to die of heart attacks. The same was true for Mister Randall and Liam – and for pretty much every other Ghost in her arsenal. They were all terrible to look at.

Taylor walked forward. She’d passed through this exact street before, long ago, and she’d be lying if she said that it once looked different, because it honestly didn’t. Aside from the air of desolation and all the broken windows, this part of Brockton Bay, at least, didn’t look all that different from how it used to, a few weeks ago. She’d know, of course, because she often passed by here whenever she felt like walking to clear her head. That store, over there, Taylor noted, used to sell dried meats and Italian breads, but now it looked abandoned, its windows shattered and its interior probably looted. Taylor stopped for a moment and glanced inside. Briefly, she wondered if those who stole food, of all things, could be considered villains. They were desperate, hungry. Was it not natural for humans to want to eat if they were starving? Was it an act of criminality to want to survive? Did that make them malevolent or otherwise villainous? It wasn’t as though they killed the store owner, right? As long as they didn’t physically hurt anyone in their mad scramble to eat... then... but what about the store owner? Wouldn’t the desperate theft create a cycle of desperation? Without their goods, the owner would have no money, and that meant they’d have no food and starve all the same.

At the root of it was desperation. And the very root of that desperation, which kickstarted the cycle, was her. After all, if she hadn’t jumped off the hospital that night, Sukuna never would’ve had the chance to escape and take over. And none of this would’ve happened. By her own definition, did that not make her the villain? She knew what Sukuna wanted to do. She knew what Sukuna was capable of doing and she risked it anyway. Wasn’t it her fault, then?

Taylor shook her head. She didn’t know. She couldn’t be certain. And, in truth, Taylor wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t like the answer.

She shook her head and moved forward. Yeah, in the end, the answer didn’t really matter all that much, did it? The only thing that mattered was that she moved forward and kept on moving forward. The more her mind lingered on what ifs, the more she’d stay stuck in the rut of her own head, unable to do anything but hate and blame herself for things that were already done with. The only path now was forward. And the first step, Taylor realized, was meeting her dad and begging for his forgiveness.

After that... she wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d just leave the bay and try to eek out an existence somewhere else, somewhere far away. Oh, Taylor knew what was a stupid idea; she was barely out of her teenage years and, here she was, practically a runaway, one of many thousands of runaway teenagers all over the United States. Whatever the case, she couldn’t stay here – not unless she was in the mood for going to prison.

Her house wasn’t too far away, Taylor mused. Just a few blocks down and she’d eventually find the corner to her old neighborhood. Just a few blocks down and she’d be home again. Lung and Sukuna’s battle hadn’t reached her home, as far as she was aware, but she wouldn’t be particularly surprised if the shockwaves had shattered all their windows, glassware, and plates. Good thing her dad liked to use plastic plates most of the time. It was only her mom who had a thing for glass or ceramic plates. They often argued about that, looking back.

Taylor stopped, her ears perking up. She heard a scream from... somewhere – somewhere close by, just down the road, even, faint – so faint that she almost didn’t hear it. “Alice, what is that?”

“It’s a bad ghost....” Alice spoke with uncertainty. “It’s a bad ghost. Very strong. It’s looking for someone. Or something. It can smell us.”

“It’s a Cursed Spirit, brat,” Sukuna suddenly spoke, a fanged mouth suddenly appeared on Taylor’s left cheek. “You’re a Jujutsu Sorcerer now and these things sort of just happen around you. This one’s a newborn curse – still weak. Go ahead and exorcise it before it causes trouble for everything. Or don’t. It’s not really my problem.”

Just like that, Sukuna disappeared, his mouth fading from her left cheek and his presence dimming entirely.

Taylor felt her heart race, not out of fear but anticipation. She wasn’t entirely sure what Sukuna meant by “exorcise” the Cursed Spirit, but she knew she had to act fast. The scream echoed again, closer this time, its pitch a wailing crescendo that clawed at her nerves. Whatever this Cursed Spirit was, it was coming, and it wasn’t going to wait for her to figure things out.

“Alice, Mister Randal, Liam,” Taylor called out, her voice steady despite the uncertainty gnawing at her. “I need you all to keep an eye out. Stay close.”

The air around her grew cold, and Taylor could feel the oppressive presence drawing near. She walked cautiously toward the source of the scream, her footsteps light on the cracked pavement. The buildings around her loomed like silent sentinels, their broken windows and crumbling facades bearing witness to the devastation that had swept through the city. Every shadow seemed to twist and stretch as if alive, as if they were reaching out to her.

Taylor rounded a corner, and there it was.

The Cursed Spirit hovered just above the ground, a grotesque figure of death and despair. Its form was that of a banshee, its long, tattered robes swirling in an unnatural wind, and its face hidden behind a veil of translucent, grayish skin. Its mouth was a gaping maw, filled with jagged teeth that seemed to drip with black ichor. Long, twisted arms ending in clawed hands reached out as if to grasp something just out of reach. The Spirit’s eyes—or where its eyes should have been—glowed with an eerie, blue light. Its long black hair flickered like fire.

The wailing scream rose again, the sound piercing through Taylor’s skull, and she felt the energy inside her stir, responding to the presence of the Cursed Spirit. The blue energy flickered to life around her fists, and she instinctively clenched her hands, feeling its warmth despite the chill in the air. The Cursed Spirit hovered in place, its face turning left and right, almost as though it was searching for something – or someone.

“Taylor, be careful,” Mister Randal’s voice echoed from right beside her. “It doesn’t seem to know what it’s doing. It’s... confused.”

Taylor nodded. “What am I supposed to do here, exactly?”

Sukuna’s mouth reappeared on her left cheek. “Beat the shit out of it.”