Also, if you haven't already, be sure to read this update about the changes to my update schedule: http://30leaves.blogspot.com/2018/09/the-new-schedule.html
As you drove further up the
unfamiliar country road, you resisted the urge to glance at the newspaper in
your passenger seat. You couldn't believe what happened, it made no sense for
your friend to up and die like that. They had already acted strangely for the
past several months, but you never expected this would be the result. Nobody has any
straight answers on what happened, and the police dismissed it as a suicide.
You only caught a glimpse of the body, but even you could tell that was no
suicide. There's only one person you know of that could possibly have answers.
You double check the note you tapped
to your dashboard, "Valencia, 555-2368, 1919 Lochmere Lane." Your
friend said that he frequently talked to this woman for advice. Although, he
never specified what kind of advice. Regardless, she was the only one he has
confided in for the past few months. She might be the single person who knows
what really happened to him.
Finally, you pull up to a gated
driveway. Flanked by a black, iron fence that extended outward until it was
swallowed by an adjacent tree line. Inscribed into the gate was,
"1919," right next to an intercom. You pulled up your car and hopped
out and wiped your brow as you exposed yourself to the hot summer evening.
Before you could even touch the intercom it flared to life. "We've been
expecting you," a distorted voice echoed from the device as the gate
opened up by itself. Undeterred, you jumped back in your car and drove onward.
After almost a minute you arrived at
a circular driveway which sat beneath a massive, three-story mansion.
Illuminated by the setting sun. You parked your car, grabbed the newspaper and
made your way to the entrance. You were surprised to see the house was mostly
dark. The only sign of life was a dim light that glowed from a second-floor
window. As you approached the door it opened without warning. On the other side
was an older, gray-streaked man, dressed to the nines in a suit and vest. His
medium length black hair was slicked back, and his face was decorated with a
pair of spectacles.
"Welcome," he greeted you
with a bow, "Valencia will see you now." He beckoned you forward, and
you followed. Inside you entered into the mansion's foyer. Marked with a single
grand staircase that lead to the second floor. The man lead you up the grand
staircase, which felt like an eternity in of itself, and a sharp left into the
second floor. You continued into a vast network of halls, the man took you
through random turns. Yet, no matter when or where you turned, each time it
felt like a wholly different part of the mansion.
Eventually, you reached the end of
the labyrinth of hallways. Signified by an intricate wooden door painted white
and gold. The man opened this door, then turned to you and bowed, beckoning you
in. As you entered the room, the door swiftly shut behind you. Now apparently
locked inside, your attention was drawn to the figure at the other end of the
room.
Behind a magnificent wooden desk,
beneath an ornate window that had a view of the moon that rose in the distance,
was a woman who worked by candlelight. She had chocolate brown hair and a pale
complexion. She wore a simple, white dress and was wrapped up in a thick, white
coat, lined with brown fleece. A white hat, also lined with brown fleece, sat
on the desk in front of her.
"Please take a seat," she
looked up from her work and gestured at a chair in front of her desk. You
accepted her offer and sat down. As you got a close look you began to make out
the few, noticeable wrinkles that lined her face. As well as her dull, lifeless
blue-eyes. "So I assume you're here to discuss our mutual acquaintance?"
She asked you.
You responded with the
newspaper, the headline displayed your friend's untimely demise.
"I was afraid something like
this might happen," she sighed as she brushed aside her work. "I
warned him of the consequences of his actions, but it might have been too late
for him by then."
You raised an eyebrow at this.
"Let me guess," the women,
Valencia, continued. "You want to know what happened to them, but nobody
will give you a straight answer."
You nodded.
"I figured," she pulled
out a pack of cigarettes, "tell me how much do you know about your
friend's hobbies?"
You shrugged, you had no idea what she meant.
"Well let me ask you
this," she pulled out a cigarette, "do you believe in magic?"
You shook your head.
"Your friend certainly
did," she offered you a cigarette, which you declined. "To put it simply,
he got in too deep, too quickly and paid for it."
You raised your eyebrow again.
"Don't give me that look,"
she placed the cigarette in her mouth, "I told you the truth, isn't that
what you wanted?"
You grimaced, you wanted to know the
truth, but this sounded ridiculous.
"Well then, do you want the full
story?" She pulled out a lighter, "That may take some time, are you
comfortable?"
You nodded.
"Good," she lit the
cigarette and took a long inhale. "Now where to begin," she exhaled
the smoke, thankfully away from your face. "Let me start with the first
time I met your dear friend. From the very start, I noticed a problem."
~--~
I first met your friend about three
months ago. I'd received an anonymous tip about them dabbling in forces they
couldn't begin to understand. It had been a while since I had made a house
call, so to speak. Thus, I decided to visit your friend personally.
Me and my assistant Walter, you've
met him already, pulled up to your friend's house. It at first seemed
unassuming. It appeared as a simple, suburban home. No more special than the
dozens of other near identical homes that lined the neighborhood. However, I've
been around the block enough times to know that didn't mean anything. It was
after we knocked on the door and he answered that I noticed the issue.
I have no knowledge of what your
friend looked like before, but it was obvious that something was wrong with
him. His thin, gaunt face, his colorless, dull eyes. An uneven skin complexion
and faded hair color were all symptoms I've seen a million times. However, I'm
getting ahead of myself.
Right away he asked me, "What
do you want?"
So I told him, "I know what
you've been dabbling in. I'm here to warn you before it's too late." He
scoffed at me, but I got his attention back when I asked him, "So where
did you find the book? You take it from some dark corner of your local
library?" That made him pale, and he finally agreed to hear me out.
Once we were situated in his tiny
living room I spelled out my warning as simple and straightforward as possible.
"If you continue down this path, you will die."
He took this as a threat and warned
me to, "...Get out or I'll call the cops!"
I revealed to him that, "Not
even the police will be able to help you if you keep messing with that
book." This information calmed him down a bit, and I was able to glean
some information out of him. He explained that he found the book in a box of
his late grandfather's belongings a month or so prior, and began to curiously
glance through it. He believed he was on the verge of uncovering some great
power within the book.
Now I know you're skeptical about
this, how could a book influence your friend's health? It's simple, his
grandfather, or another close relative, was involved in some variety of dark
arts. Sadly, I never had a chance to see the book for myself, so I have no idea
what particular brand of magic was at play. I have my theories though, it was probably
some type of blood magic or even demon summoning.
I informed him that the book,
"...Will destroy you from the inside out. I suggest you bury it out in the
woods and forget about it."
He shook his head and affirmed,
"I'm so close, I can't stop now."
I repeated myself, "If you
continue down this path, you will die." Then I got up and left. It was out
of my hands. I came only to warn him, and he refused to heed my warnings.
"Whatever happens next is your fault," I told him as I exited.
~--~
"I honestly thought he'd lose
his nerve at that point. Most do when I warn them," Valencia said as she
took another puff of her cigarette. "I thought myself incapable of being
naive at this point, but even I couldn't predict how far your friend would fall."
You refused to meet her gaze.
"Now, now no need to question
the validity of my story just yet," she wagged her cigarette at you,
"There is still more to tell."
You look back at her.
"I had thought that interaction
would be the end of my dealings with your unfortunate friend," she
continued. "But a month later we crossed paths by chance, and for the
first time in a long time I began to pity someone."
~--~
I had recently closed a particularly
difficult case up in a nearby city. I was on the lookout for somewhere to
either drown my sorrows or clear my head. Whichever came first. That's when I
caught the sight of your friend. Despite the darkness of the night, it took
only a glance at his face to be certain it was him. He was fare worse for wear,
his skin was paling, his face was even gaunter and his eyes half-lidded and
dull. I have no idea why he was in the city, but he appeared lost and
disoriented.
"I warned you did I not,"
I approached him. He didn't respond right away, he only managed to stare back
at me for a good few minutes.
When he finally spoke it was less
than pleasant, "Are you following me?" His voice was chalky and
parched, I presume he had begun to neglect food and drink.
I didn't answer his question,
"Every second you continue forward on this path is another second closer
to your premature demise." He responded with an incoherent mumble. Which
wasn't a surprise, long-term exposure to any form of dark arts tends to eat
away at the mind. It can be manageable in measured doses, but your friend had
failed to take that precaution.
Now I'm no saint, nor am I even a
good Samaritan. However, as I watched your friend on the verge of
self-destruction, a rare feeling emerged in the shriveled up remains of my
heart. Pity. I knew that there was no point in arguing with him. He was too far
gone for that, but there was another way to bring him to his senses.
I pulled a slip of paper from my
person and handed it to him. "Takes this, if you need advice just call the
number written here," I told him. He took the paper into his shaking hands
and held it to his chest. "I recommend that you slow down your research
for the time being. At least until you get your wits about you," I stated before
I left him to his own devices. As I walked away into the night, he remained
there with the paper clutched to his chest. Still shaking, still mumbling, even
as I pulled out of sight.
~--~
"On any other night, I would
have left him to suffer in silence. But I needed to appeal to my conscience for
personal reasons," Valencia explained. "It was a fifty-fifty chance
he would actually call. Which mostly hinged on whether he actually got home
that night."
You scowled but said nothing.
"As I'm sure you know he did
call back," she flicked some ash off her cigarette, "and for the
briefest moment I thought he might save himself."
~~~~
TO BE CONTINUED
~~~~
I hope you enjoy the debut of my new anthology series, Enigmatic Fantasies.Part 2: http://30leaves.blogspot.com/2018/09/enigmatic-fantasies-woman-from-lochmere_20.html
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