This is Episode 4-14 of a serial urban fantasy & paranormal story.

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Part 4-14: Facesucker

I did not like the woods. I kept thinking I’d look to the side and see a row of hungry green orbs, their owner ready to spring onto our path and eat my friends. Not even the sunny, cloudless day offered any comfort, for all was infinite overcast in Clockworld.

At least the path we were on was wide and obvious, the corpse of some recently defunct logging road or somesuch. It wound in lazy curves on a noticeable decline, and soon I could hear the rush and gurgle of a river.

Fergus and Persi marched on, side by side, his phone in one hand, crowbar slung over his back with a bit of twine. I followed, stopping only once to see if anything happened as I came out of range of the hotspot. There was a tickle and tingle on my back after the smartphone had been carried some forty feet away, and when I looked behind me, the way back was shrouded in a growing grey fog. I caught back up to them fast.

The path took us down into a little valley. A river—Danby Creek, hopefully—cut through the bottom of it. And there ahead, carrying our tired, overgrown road across the stream, was the bridge. Standing in the middle of the flat, trussless structure was the girl. There was a rope around her neck, which ran down, curled about her feet, then disappeared off down the side of the span. She wore what to me was a dull yellow raincoat, probably shiny and brilliant in the real-world sun. She had her back to us, so that her dark, flowing hair cut a stark contrast against the sheen of her clothes. All around her, as usual, billowed a wispy blue light.

There was something else too, something strange about the shape of her head. I couldn’t quite place it, until Fergus shouted out.

“Excusez-moi, hello! We’re looking for a Tricia Glenscot!”

The girl looked to one side, and there I saw it. One of the pearl coloured globs was stuck to her face. It pulsed lightly, as if it were suckling away. Heebie-jeebies in the form of cold sweat and prickles zipped up and down my back.

She turned fully to face Fergus and Persi, arms dangling to her side. I could not read her expression, as her face was nothing but a grey mass.

“Hey, uh, why don’t you maybe come over here, hey?” tried Fergus, taking a step forward. The girl took an equally spaced step backward. All around her, little grey worms sprouted in little clusters. Maybe a dozen.

“She seems uncooperative,” remarked Persi.

“I got that feeling too, yeah,” said Fergus.

I stalked forward, and summoned my rapier. It flashed into my hand as the worm clusters rose up, revealing a tiny horde of the pearly blobs. They began to circle around the girl in slow concentric circles. I remembered this behaviour from the Walkerby residence. I doubted it was a good thing.

“What do we do?” said Persi.

“I’m going to start with a step back,” said Fergus. “And hope Alena’s here to save us.”

“I should have gone in as well,” she said.

I moved even closer, wanting to get a good shot at the thing on her face. The way ahead remained in focus, but I kept an eye on it in case it got foggy on me. When I was confident of my range, I pointed the rapier at the girl’s face.

“Nothing personal,” I said, and let a blast of energy fly.

One of the ground blobs leapt up and blocked the shot, exploding into a fine mist. The girl leaned her head back and howled, a low, unearthly tone that did nothing to help the icky feeling in my spine. Then she turned to the edge of the bridge.

“Uh oh,” I said, and fired two more shots. Both were intercepted by jumping blobs. I saw more rising to take their place. Tricia began to walk, her arms outstretched as if to balance her on an invisible beam.

“Oh crap!” Fergus said, and I heard both him and Persi come running.

I ran too, hoping I could get there in time to slice the facesucker off of her. The blobs must’ve read my intent, because they came jumping and pelting at me now, aiming for my waist or lower. They stuck in a cold, squishy mass, no longer the innocent, non-physical beings I’d written them off as. A slash from the rapier dissolved the goo, but it had slowed me. Tricia was five steps away from the edge.

Fergus and Persi raced past me, blocking my line of sight; they’d make it a second or two too late.

I stood, helpless, watching Fergus shout as he held both the crowbar and cellphone high in his hands (as if such a sight would calm the victim). Maybe I could warp or—shit. The phone!

My rapier evaporated as all my concentration went into banishing the checkerboard pattern out of the world. It reappeared easily enough, and this time I did not merely twist it into diamonds—I wrenched the whole damn mess as hard as my mind could allow.

A white sun erupted out of Fergus’ hand and someone screamed, long, loud, agonizing.

As the horrific pain receded, I woke shaking in Deluxe’s arms, my skin numb, my head spiking with pain, and I realized the screams had been my own.

 

 

Continued in Part 4-15

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