Necromanson (Beta) Chapter 6

The forest parted around Henry, and sure enough, after about eighty feet of climbing through the underbrush, he spotted the little red berries nestled beneath the wide leaves. Henry sat down and began levitating one berry after another into the basket.

Henry’s pace was faster than an average person’s on account of not having to move, but Henry grew tired of missing berries solely because his sight was limited. Henry stopped picking berries and chewed on that thought for a moment. Focusing his will, Henry tried to know where every berry was in the patch.

The knowledge flowed into him, filling his mind to overflowing. It felt as though he were painfully stretching his brain, making little rips and tears as it swelled. With a gasp, Henry seized on each berry simultaneously, and a chorus of tiny snaps rose as hundreds of strawberries floated toward the basket, detaching from the plants that had spawned them.

Henry’s heart began hammering, and he couldn’t hold it anymore, letting the strawberries go. They fell in and around the basket in a rain of red berries. Henry knelt beside the basket, panting.

“That was new,” he said, steadying himself, taking deep, slow breaths to ward off the dizziness that would precede another blackout. After a few moments, Henry stood, scooping fallen berries into the basket until it was nearly full.

Henry picked a single strawberry out of the basket and stared at it, pondering. Telekinesis was supremely useful, but what Henry could do wasn’t any better than a guy with a grenade launcher. And Manson was objectively unkillable. Henry raised the berry above his finger, and slowly spun it, memorizing its form.

Dracula had weaknesses, at least in the books. It would follow that Manson would have them. Even if he didn’t, there were plenty of ways to neutralize someone who couldn’t die. Henry focused on the berry, willing it to become steel.

The strawberry exploded, blasting soft chunks of flesh across Henry’s face. Henry blinked a bit out of his eye. “Seems like transmutation is a no-go for now,” he said, grabbing the basket and coming to his feet, wiping his face off with his shirt.

On the way back to the cabin, Henry ate a few of the strawberries, thinking. What was the basic element that made magic awesome, and what was he missing? He could make things move, and explode, and that was it so far. Magic, in Henry’s mind should be able to take on a life of its own and act without constant supervision, accomplishing something or safeguarding something long after the caster was gone.

“Could be I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth, though.” Henry muttered, eating another strawberry. The trail gave way to the cleared land around the cabin, and Henry spotted rhubarb nestled by the house. Henry popped four stalks off and threw them in the basket, heading to the front door.

Athena greeted him, coming from the other side of the house with an armful of potatoes. Henry looked at her dirt-covered form and blinked. “Where’d those come from?” he asked.

“I started some about seven years ago, and now you can find a handful wild if you look hard enough,” Athena said, marching into the cabin. Henry followed, and the two of them set out to make lunch.

Athena found an old pie-pan, and at Henry’s suggestion the two of them lined it with a crust of thin potato slices, filled it with strawberries and baked it on top of the wood stove with a cover over it.

“Is this going to be any good?” Athena asked, her brow cocked as she backed away from the makeshift pie.

“Probably not,” Henry said, “But I don’t really see anything else we could have made. We still have baked potato as a backup.”

The two of them arranged lunch, working together in the cramped kitchen of the cabin for hours, until the food was finally done, Athena pulled out some dust-covered salt and pepper shakers, and they ate lunch. The pie was intensely sour, but palatable, scooped out of the pan with oversized, freshly cleaned spoons. The baked potatoes finished the meal, and Henry found himself relaxing in the same couch as the sun went down, Athena sipping hot strawberry-water as she sat next to him.

Shortly, Athena went to start the generator, while Henry was tasked with building a fire to heat the water for showers.

Henry squatted in front of the dry wood packed into the furnace. Any purveyor of the arcane worth his salt could summon fire from nothing, Henry reasoned. Henry dismissed cautionary thoughts of exploding furnaces, and sat in front of the fire, clearing his mind. Fire was a chemical reaction, triggered by heat. Heat could be produced three ways that Henry could think of off the top of his head: A chemical reaction, excitation of molecules, and pressure.

Henry lit a match from the box in front of him, and tried to channel oxygen into it. The fire fluttered as a gentle wind rolled across it. Henry frowned. I have no idea what oxygen feels like. He thought to himself. Henry closed his eyes, and imagined himself swimming through the air, there were only two major parts to air, Nitrogen and oxygen, at roughly a four to one ratio. Henry felt different kinds of air floating around him, and focused on separating and purifying them, taking the smaller ratio of air and wrapping it around the match in his hand.

With a hissing, the match in front of Henry flared into a pyre, burning through the little matchstick in a second. Henry dropped it hastily, shaking his hand where it had been burned while he chuckled. “Very cool.” Henry said with a grin.

Henry rubbed the stinging burn with his thumb as he mulled over what he had just done. It wasn’t transmutation, per se, he had filtered the air, but it couldn’t start its own fire. Henry sat and considered the wood in the furnace. It made water and carbon dioxide when it burned, which meant wood was largely carbon and hydrogen bound together, meaning if he were to pop them apart in the presence of oxygen, it should light.

Henry focused on a small flake of the wood, willing it to unravel, at the tiniest level. The shred peeled and splintered into dozens of tiny spirals of wood grain. Henry leaned back and sighed. Try as he might, Henry couldn’t conceptualize splitting the bonds that held together the molecules of the wood, and therefore nothing happened but a fine shredding of whatever he focused on.

Henry sighed, deciding to try pressure instead. He focused on a golf-ball sized ball of air, and pictured it as surrounded by a reinforced steel chamber. Henry systematically pumped more and more air into the tiny space, until eventually, the air in front of the logs began to waver and glow. With a force of will, Henry moved the ball closer to the logs, smiling as they darkened, and smoke began to lick up the sides of the wood.

Just a little bit more. Henry thought, compressing the air further until it began to take on a definable shape, glowing and hovering in the air. Henry felt the heat washing over his face, and flames began to erupt from the wood that faced his little ball of gas. Henry gave a cry of excitement even as he strained to keep the air contained.

“What’s taking so long?” Athena said, shoving the door open. Henry glanced back at her, and the furnace made a muffled thump, with charcoal dust shooting out every opening as he lost control of the ball.

Henry opened his mouth to respond and got a mouthful of soot. As he coughed, Athena grabbed a bottle of lighter fluid, sprayed the wood, and lit it with a match. “Stop screwing around,” she said, trotting back out.

Henry coughed out the last of the soot, his eyes watering. In Henry’s enthusiasm, it hadn’t occurred to him until this very close proximity explosion, that he might want some sort of safety gear. Henry closed the furnace and headed back to the cabin, taking his turn in the shower after Athena.

Henry sat in the couch, his mind burning with questions no one but he could answer for himself, oblivious to Athena, who prowled by for another helping of strawberry pie in nothing but a towel before disappearing upstairs. Henry scratched down idea after idea on an old shopping list magnet that had been attached to the refrigerator.

The next morning, Henry started awake when Athena came down the stairs, her footsteps preceding her. The notepad on his chest tumbled to the floor, creasing the paper.

“Morning Henry, do you want to jog?” Athena asked, stretching

Henry swallowed, the grey sweats she wore were pleasantly filled, the top riding a bit high, revealing a dark stretch of smooth skin. His gaze turned to the notepad on the floor in front of him, and he weighed his options.

“Yes,” he said, standing with the notepad in hand. Henry dropped the paper into the air, and it floated to the end table, coming down gently onto the aging wood.

Athena shook her head. “I still have a hard time believing what I’m seeing,” she said, heading for the door.

“You better, ‘cuz I’ve got a lot of ideas to bounce off of you,” Henry said, following her out the door. The cold morning air filled Henry’s lungs, wiping away the last grogginess of sleep away. Athena took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, exhaling contentedly.

Athena bounced twice, before giving Henry a smile and setting off into the crisp morning. Henry followed along, keeping pace. “So I’ve got some big questions,” Henry said, keeping his eyes on the narrow trail ahead of them as they trotted along.

“Shoot.” Athena said, loping easily along beside Henry.

“There shouldn’t be any effect from painting a pretty picture in human blood,” Henry said boldly. “As far as we can see, blood can’t do that. something supernatural happened.”

“Right,” Athena said, nodding.

“So there were some kind of rules,” Henry said, motioning with his hands. “Some kind of plan behind the ritual. Someone knew that killing a bunch of people in that specific way would unleash hell.”

“And?” Athena said, looking at Henry. “You want to find them and figure out what the hell is going on?”

Henry stopped in his tracks for a moment, before sprinting a few steps to catch up. “That’s such a better idea than what I was about to say,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. Henry’s breath was beginning to come short as they winded around another massive tree.

“I was about to suggest that there has to be some kind of underlying pattern to the magic,” Henry said. “If I knew more about the rules, how it works, I could do a hell of a lot more.” Henry threw his hands up. “I mean, I know nothing, that could be the only spell in existence, I could be already as good at blowing things up as I’m ever going to be.”

“Why are you treating telekinesis like second prize?” Anthena asked. She had gradually increased the pace as she warmed up, and now Henry was panting desperately. “Seems pretty cool to me.”

Henry “Its just…” he panted, his words coming few and far between. “I though… there’d be… more.”

“Maybe there is,” Athena said, slowing down and coming to a stop as Henry rested his palm against the trunk of a spruce, gasping for breath. “From everything you’ve told me, you’ve been trying too hard to fit whatever is happening to you into a neat little box.”

“So?” Henry panted.

“Don’t. have fun with it. Stop trying to figure out how it works, and just enjoy it.”

Henry shrugged. “I can do both, hell, this is the most fun I’ve had in years,” he said, taking deep, steadying breaths. “That said, I’ve gotten a little carried away recently without thinking about protection, do you have any safety gear for that chainsaw in the shed?”

Athena cocked her head and pursed her lips, and Henry found his eyes wandering over her as she considered his question. “Yes,” she said, her gaze coming to rest on Henry. “Erik’s parents were very safety conscious, after all. I’m sure they had some somewhere”.

Henry frowned. “Who’s Erik? Does he own the place?” Henry asked, a thin thread of jealousy wormed it’s way into his heart before he crushed it down, leaving a hollow sensation where it had begun to take root.

“Not exactly,” Athena said, a shadow passing across her face. “Erik was my middle school boyfriend, he died in a car crash and his parents went back to germany.”

“And you take care of the house for them,” Henry said, filling in the blanks in his mind. “And that’s why nobody’s found us yet, because you don’t have any paperwork connecting you to this place.

“All off the books,” she said, with a nod. “I still visit the place every once in awhile, but it’s been years since I’ve heard from them. I think they want to avoid anything that reminds them of him.”

Henry sighed as the rotten feeling flushed out of his system. “Don’t worry, none of my friends and coworkers know about this place,” Athena said, stretching. “Are you ready to get back to running?” she broke into a jog, slower than before, and Henry found himself strung along the trail around the cabin, tasting blood by the time they made it back to the cabin.

“If you didn’t see anything in the shed, “Athena said as they entered the cabin. “It’s probably in the basement. I haven’t been down there in years, though.” Athena knelt in front of the rug in front of the fireplace, and peeled it away, revealing a sturdy wooden trap door, cleanly outlined by the weathered wood around it.

Athena grabbed a flashlight off a nearby hook and handed it to Henry. “Here you go,” She said, opening the trapdoor and stepping away. the hole in the floor led into a pitch black void. Without turning on the light, Henry couldn’t see a damn thing.

Henry clicked the flashlight on, and a beam of light lanced through the surroundings, drawing a pool of pale light on the concrete floor of the basement, a good five feet below them. Henry knelt down and gave Athena a nod of thanks, taking a breath before hopping into the hole.

Henry felt his feet touch the ground, and he dropped to a hunch checking the height of the floor above him. Thick beams cut across the floor dropping his head space to about four feet. The concrete beneath his feet was cool and dry, and the air was musty, but not stale. Henry looked out into the darkness, scanning his flashlight across the neatly stacked boxes and rusty tools. A bicycle straight out of the eighties rested against one of the walls, it’s chain covered with minor rust. The tires were deflated, the rubber cracking and weak.

On the other side of the room lay a pile of old lumber and construction materials that must have been left over after the house had been built. Bringing his flashlight to bear on the boxes again, Henry crab walked over to the pile, determined to find some safety gear, at the very least to protect his eyes.

“I like my eyes,” Henry muttered to himself as he opened the first box. The top box was light and filled with fluffy winter clothes. Henry set it aside, inspecting the box beneath it. After a little digging, Henry found what he wanted, bringing a smile to his face.

Henry emerged from the trap door bedecked in safety goggles, chainsaw-proof pants, and a Thick leather apron that came with elbow length gloves. Henry grunted as he pulled himself up, swinging his legs up and over the lip, finally crawling to his feet outside the basement.

Athena closed the door behind him. “Looks like you found what you’re looking for,” She said, taking in Henry’s awkward ensemble with a smile.

“Yep,” Henry said, hands on his hips. “Now only the real dangerous shrapnel will get through.”

Athena chuckled before her face turned sober. “We can’t stay here forever, you know,” She said, meeting Henry’s eyes. “Sooner or later someone’s coming for us.”

Henry took a deep breath. “We need to find the man who commissioned the building. Tomorrow, let’s set out to visit a friend of mine, he’s the contractor who built it, we should be able to get the name from him.

Athena nodded, then shot Henry a questioning gaze. “Are you doing the same thing as yesterday then?” she asked, the corners of her lips drawn up in a faint smile.

Henry shook his head. “No,” he said, stepping towards the door. “If anything, there should be a hell of a lot more explosions.”

“Try not to drown in the lake,” Athena said, waving. “I’m gonna turn on the generator to watch the news, so I probably won’t be able to hear whether or not you stop blowing things up.”

Henry nodded. “I’ll be careful,” he said, sliding the clear plastic goggles over his eyes.

***Athena***

The two of them split up at the door, Henry heading around the back to the lake, Athena to the generator. Athena knelt down in front of the blocky machine, checking its fuel.

“Definitely can’t stay here much longer,” She sighed, eying the needle indicating that the generator was mostly empty. Athena yanked on the pullcord, starting the generator running, filling the air with the noisy hum of its operation.

Athena walked back to the house and settled down on the couch, her skin cooling don after the run. Turning on the T.V., she scanned through the major channels for any news about Henry or their situation. It occurred to her that if anything happened concerning them happened, such as an arrest, they would be the first to know.

Athena left the channel on, heading to the kitchen to boil a potato for breakfast.

“I am the end and the beginning. I am eternal,” The words broke through the usual diction of the reporters responsible for the midday news. “I was born of man, but make no mistake, I have risen above the confines of mortality, and like any pioneer I will be followed to this new horizon. Believe, devote yourselves to the Family, and you will be one of these few.”

“The hell am I listening to?” Athena shook her head while she waited for the potato to boil. From the living room the tyrade of crazy continued. “Must have switched back to the late-night televangelist channels.” Athena sliced the potato in half, sprinkled salt and pepper on it, completing her meager meal before she headed back out to the living room, already daintily nibbling on the steaming edge of the simple food.

The TV caught Athena’s eye as she entered the room, it showed a short man with an angular face standing in front of a massive stadium. The camera panned across them, showing faces filled with a zealot’s extacy. People were crying, kneeling, praying, surrendering to a higher power in droves. All the while, the man stood in a harsh spotlight in the center of the stadium, his face like worked stone.

“Is this still on the news?” Athena wondered aloud, watching the banner of headlines wrap around the bottom of the screen, while the banner itself was still there, and the new channel’s logo adorned the upper corner of the image, the words scrolling across the bottom of the screen made no sense. ‘repent and join him, surrender your pride to the son of god.’

He looked at Athena. The potato fell from her hand, and plopped down onto the plate. “You,” The man said, his eyes boring into her. “you at home, share in this moment. Offer your faith and share in this blessing. Come to me.” Athena found her feet moving toward the screen as she dimly heard the plate clatter behind her.

The man spread his arms wide as the camera slowly zoomed in on him. “Look into my eyes, share the vision that I have,” He said as his face slowly came to dominate the screen, becoming larger than life. “Come forward. Touch me. Place your hands against the screen and let me share with you my blessing.”

Athena stood a pace away from the screen, her hands slowly extending toward the face that dominated the screen, the eyes that seemed to erode her will. “Touch the screen,” he repeated, his tone gentle and smooth. Athena’s fingers extended, her hand shaking. Just before she touched the screen, and moment of hesitation pulled her hand away again.

“Touch it you bitch!” Manson snarled, his voice sending a buzzing hum through her mind even as her heart skipped a beat in fear. His face began more angular, as his flesh seemed to wither around him, drawing his lips away from his teeth. Athena gave a cry as she felt something pull her toward the TV.

For a heart stopping moment, Athena’s fingers touched the screen, and she could feel the malicious glee radiate from the face dominating the image in front of her. suddenly her fingers were torn away from the TV, and she could think again, as though her thoughts had been simply been an image that had been there all along, simply out of focus.

Henry stood above her, gripping her wrist painfully in his right hand as he glared at the television. The face on the screen smiled. “So there you were, Henry,” Manson said, glancing at Athena. “I didn’t know you liked the dark meat. Maybe I’ll try it, myself. Hell, if It’ll make her feel better, I could even look like you while I fuck every hole she has.”

Henry narrowed his eyes, and the old TV shattered, going dark.

Charles lowered his arms, facing the camera whose lens had shattered, in quiet contemplation. “What was all that about, sir?” Nick said, glancing at manson from behind the now-useless camera rig. Charles chuckled and glanced up at Nick with twinkling eyes. “I just saw a friend I owe a favor to on the other side.” he said, smiling warmly.

“I got you switched out to camera three,” Nick said, beginning the process of dismantling the camera. “I’ll have the primary set up again in a couple minutes. Charles places his hand atop her head and a wave of pleasure rolled through her. “I was right about you,” he said, stroking her hair as she arched her back. “You’re the finest daughter a man could have.”

Nick nodded, a shy smile coming to her face as she stood, rushing to get another camera.

The image of Manson’s face was replaced by a reflection of the two of them, staring at the black void in front of them. “You can let go,” Athena said, her voice pained. Henry glanced down at the thin wrist clamped in his hand, and his fingers sprung open even as he took a step back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Athena held a hand up, interrupting him.

“I know you didn’t,” Athena said, rolling her wrist. “And I’m very sure I much prefer a sore wrist to whatever would have happened if you hadn’t pulled me away.” Athena glanced at Henry quizzically. “What are you doing back so soon anyway?”

Henry coughed, glancing at the kitchen. “Is there any pie left?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

Athena laughed, pushing Henry’s chest. “No, and even if there were, we gotta get out of here.”

Henry nodded. “I know, I pretty much gave up on another slice when I saw Manson hypnotizing you through the TV,” he said, hustling out to the van. Athena followed a pace behind, tossing Henry the keys.

Gravel crunched under the tires of three vans barreling into the driveway. Henry tensed, his eyes trying to watch everything at once as men flooded from the vans, six at a time. Henry’s eyes widened. The men wore the same gear as the ones that committed the massacre beneath his home. Even the vans the men drove were the same, white and plain, with no windows. Henry glanced to the one Athena had driven them in, a perfect match to the ones that now poured men ono the gravel driveway.

While none of them aimed their submachine guns at him, it was an undeniable fact that they were armed to the teeth. Henry broke into a cold sweat as he and Athena were loosely surrounded.

A single man not wearing a mask, older and weary looking, stepped forward. “Henry Stein, you’ll be coming with us,” he said, his palm resting casually on the grip of his gun. Henry took a deep breath, his mind racing.

“I don’t think I want to,” Henry said, simply, letting the words roll off his tongue slowly.

“Does it look like you have a choice?” the leader asked, his brow raised. A grunt behind him popped some bubblegum as the wind whistled through the trees.

Henry looked around, doing his best to look frightened and vulnerable. It wasn’t hard. “I’m just saying, I might be a lot more willing to go with you if I knew where you were taking me,” he said, with a shrug.

The leader broke into a smile, his uneven teeth lending an air of raw reality to the situation. “Either you’re stupid, or this must be your time getting kidnapped, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” he said, stepping closer to Henry. “I have the guns, I have the men, I have the power. I don’t have to tell you a goddamn thing.” Henry felt an impact hit his stomach, and he fell to the ground, choking on nausea.

“Load him up, kill the girl,” he said, walking back to the van. Arms wrapped around Henry’s, hauling him to him feet.