Wherein I have a strange conversation with a strange visitor and I hear the barking of a dog.
I’m not sure how I really knew. The room was silent except for my breathing. I woke up from sleep into near darkness, but somehow I still knew that someone was in the room with me.
I searched the room, my eyes finally resting on a shape I could make out by the light spilling under the door. It wasn’t the old man; the silhouette was wrong. The faint light gave the suggestion of blonde hair and a smaller build.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The figure immediately tensed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here.” A nervous female voice.
“Who are you?” I asked again, a little more frantically, fumbling near the bed. I couldn’t remember if there had been a lamp on the nightstand or not.
I heard footsteps along the wood floor, then a match was lit next to the bed. A pale face in flickering light. She touched her fingers in front of her mouth to signal quiet, then lit a small candle.
She sat down in the chair next to the bed. I had only the inconsistent light from the candle she held in her lap, but I could see she was pretty. She was around my age, slim. The lighting coming from below gave weird shadows to her face, making it look hollower than it should have been. I couldn’t tell what color her eyes were; her irises were lost in shadow.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
“Emily,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I can’t stay long. He can’t know I was here…”
“Are you his daughter?” I asked.
“No,” was all she said, but the frown on her face revealed much more.
“Then are you –“ I started before she interrupted.
“I came here to warn you,” she said.
“Of what?”
“Of him. Don’t trust him. He’ll help you – he’s already helped you – but there are strings attached.” She stared sadly down at the candle. “Don’t let him get his hooks in you.”
“Does he have something on you?” I asked. “Are you in trouble with the law?”
“No, it’s not like that,” she said. “I just… I shouldn’t be talking about it. While I am here, I need to obey his rules.”
“Obey?”
“I shouldn’t be talking about it,” she said, turning her head to stare off into the darkness. I thought I saw a tear roll down her cheek, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Does he hurt you? Is he doing things to you –“ I reached out my hand to touch her arm, to comfort her, but she flinched, pulling back. Her face was full of confused fear. She got up from the chair and walked over to the wall, trying to compose herself as she now leaned against the wall. There was an awkward silence between us.
“Is Megistus his real name?” I asked, trying to break the silence.
She gave a choked laugh, just a single chuckle that forced its way through a half-closed throat of sadness. “No, it’s not his name. He doesn’t tell anyone his name. He believes it will give them power over him.”
“Just a name?” I asked.
“He’s paranoid, but that doesn’t mean there’s no reason for it,” she said. “If he doesn’t already know your name, don’t tell him. Don’t give him any more of yourself than you have to. Don’t let him get power over you.”
“Like he has over you,” I ventured.
She winced, then forced a smile. “Yes, like he has over me.” That smile then became an introspective frown. “Promise me you’ll leave here as soon as you can.”
“I promise,” I said, “I promise that I’ll try to take you with me.”
She let out another choked laugh. “Don’t promise that. I understand your intention, but it’s futile.” Her face grew serious. “I can’t go. I just can’t. Just promise me if you have a chance to leave you’ll take it. Please.”
“I promise,” I said reluctantly.
“Good,” she said. Outside the house, we heard the wind pick up, howling against the walls. The hanging metal objects inside the room and outside the house began to clang together. “I need to go,” she said.
“Will I see you again?” I asked.
“Maybe,” she said. “It can only be when he’s not around or is busy. If he knew I spoke to you…”
“He won’t,” I said. “It will be our little secret. But if I can sneak out of this room –“
“Don’t,” she said. “If he thinks you are after his secrets, it won’t be good for you.”
“But if I do sneak out of this room,” I continued anyway, “where can I find you? Do you have a room? A door I can knock on?”
She stared at the floor for a long time before answering. “No,” she said softly. “I’m not supposed to leave his room.”
She turned her back to me quickly, before I could respond. “I have to go,” she said, then blew out the candle. Everything was dark for a moment while my eyes adjusted, and she took that moment to leave. All I heard was the door open vaguely and then I could no longer sense someone in the room.
* * *
The walls of the house rattled later that evening. Not the wind, this was something more malevolent. I was woken from sleep by the sound of something pounding against the wall. My first drowsy thought was that the old man was knocking on my door, but I felt the impact on one of the external walls.
There was still a wind, and it caused all the pots and wind chimes to clank. But over the noise of the wind, I heard the barking of what I first thought to be a wild dog, maybe a wolf. Every time something struck the wall, there was a snarling and barking. The more I tried to listen to the sound, the more I realized it wasn’t a dog.
The sounds were the type a dog would make: there was barking and snarling. But the sound was off. It didn’t sound like something that would come out of the throat of a dog. Probably not a wolf either. There was something different about these sounds. I had a quick laugh to myself that it almost sounded like the sound of a man trying to make the sounds of a dog. This was silly at first. Then, as I realized this could very well be the sound, my moment of mirth passed and I started to feel very uncomfortable.
After a minute or two of this assault on the house, I began to hear singing. This was much like the singing I heard during my dazed recollections. It was half song, half chanting. It was very clear to me that this song came from within the house. It started low and became stronger.
As the song got stronger, the attacks on the house became less until finally, with a weak bang against the wall, there was a squealing whimper. I heard some trotting back and forth on the other side of the wall, then nothing else from the thing on the other side. The singing soon stopped, and the house sat in silence. Not even the wind blew anymore.
I had trouble getting to sleep after that. The experience itself was a crazy one that set my pulse going. But that was not what kept me up. If it were just fear, just adrenaline, it would have faded and exhaustion overtaken me. No, it was a thought that kept me up. It was something bouncing around in my brain that raised my pulse again whenever it slowed. I couldn’t sleep that night because I had a sinking suspicion that the old man confirmed for me the next morning.
Whatever was out there had come for me.
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