Chapter Text
|-Thursday morning, March 21st, 2024. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive, Room 3G, Wilmington, North Carolina-|
Ain't no way I'm gettin' rid of this outta my head. Not wit' his jawn's wallet in my skit. Not when I kin see dat crow in my eye. I'm not even kiddin'. The more I look at it, the more I realize how screwed I am. How am I gonna get outta this whole jawn situation? Dat damn bird kin find me whenever now. I gotta figure out better ways to scrap wit' it. Da light seemed to do da trick. Knocked it outta da sky. But it weren't enough. I need more. Way more. But what could I use? Jawn's like guns are outta da question. I don't even know where I could get one wit'out no hassles. I ain't exactly got a permit to be usin' one. Alright, breathe... Steady yourself, Cam.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
I take one last look in the bathroom mirror, my iris still looking like Murim. Can other people... see that? Like, is it something that is very visible? Or is it just me that can see it? Me and... Murim... Jesus Christ... I'm not coming out of this unscathed. No way that I can. Not at this point. I exit the bathroom and lay down on the couch. I can't sleep. I'm too shook. Too paranoid. What if Murim sends me back to that place while I sleep? In another dream? And the farm from that one dream... nightmare... That had to be the Ceramic Grove of Wheat. It's too coincidental for it not to have been. But how did I even get there? Murim uses magic, right? He had to have used it. Why else would I appear in the grove in a dream? How else could I have gotten there after running through a forest for what felt like hours on end? And all those zombies... The feathered fuck practices necromancy, doesn't he? Why else would Rob start talking to me despite looking like he was rotting for two months straight? Speaking of... I take the wallet out of my pocket and look at the state ID again. Says exactly what I remember it saying.
"Name: Lang, Robert Johnston. Date of birth: August 15th, 1951. Home address: 215 5th Street North-East, Valley City, North Dakota. Sex: male. Height: six feet, five inches. Eyes: blue. Hair: dirty blonde."
An idea than pops into my head: Maybe, just maybe, I can find some more information if I look up Rob's case. He would have been classified as a missing person, right? I head into Bo's room and grab my laptop, setting it down on Maddy's desk since she's not here and it's clear again. I immediately head to the website for the Valley City Police Department and go through their missing persons cases, but see nothing. So I head back to Google and broadly search for his name. It takes a minute, but I eventually find the man I'm looking for. Woah... I wasn't expecting any of this...
Immediately, I see something that's weird: Rob was first reported missing on April 19th, 1982. Nineteen eighty-two... He would have been 31. Yet when I found him in the Grove, it looked like he had been dead for only two months. Maybe he had somehow managed to survive in there for over forty years.
...
...
...
No. That makes no sense. What little hair he had left on his skull wasn't grey. It was still dirty blonde. Meaning he wasn't old when he died. Is the Grove... some kind of pocket dimension where time doesn't have any meaning? Maybe that could explain the golden ghost. The clothes she seemed to be wearing... Looked like they were from an actual century ago. The Roaring Twenties. And why was she a ghost? Why did it take the form of fireflies? I've got so many questions, and I don't know if I want to know the answers. Regardless, I open a new tab, wanting to know more about Murim and Him.
I find some of the same blogs that I did last time, but I also see new entries. I've never given much stock into the occult, but fuck, I don't really have a lot of options here. I'll have to take what I can get. I click a link to one of these new blogs and start reading. A lot of this is just retreading already researched grounds, but some things are new:
- Murim absolutely can raise the dead. Animals and humans. Doesn't matter. The exact purposes vary, though the most common seems to be as some kind of defense for the Grove.
- He can exert His own influence over the Grove, despite it being Murim's domain. Okay, need to find out a lot more about Him.
- Illusions can not only affect one's dreams, but also reality. One minute you're walking down a city street and the next you're in some kind of hellscape, all thanks to Murim. That leads me to the next point...
- Murim, when not directly doing His bidding, is a malevolent trickster. He will find suitable targets and begin harassing them relentlessly until their sanity breaks.
That last point is too familiar. Way too familiar. It's almost as if that's what I've been experiencing since Sunday. Since Murim first made himself known to me outside of Stoney Creek in Virginia. I still remember that morning. The way he just... stared at me from the roof of my car. The way it filled me with dread. If onliest I knew what was comin' down the pike... Against my better judgement, I keep reading, taking notes where I can. Some of dis stuff ain't lookin' too jawn-y:
- Murim can influence any and all crows in the areas he finds himself in. They become his eyes and ears, informing him an where potential prey could be.
- If Murim deems to prey hardy enough, he may attempt to turn them into a proxy for Him.
- Should this potential proxy be rejected, they join His court for eternity.
I don't like how any of that reads. And I sure as fuck ain't becoming His proxy. Nor am I going to become some kind of comedian in His court. Absolutely the fuck not. Not in this lifetime or any. But what can I do to avoid this? There's gotta be some kind of way to fight back? There's always some way to defend yourself against demons. Right...
By the time I have plans formulated, it's past three. Maddy should be back any second now. So I pack up my laptop and but it away, not wanting to get my ass chewed out by her. I get my laptop put away in Bo's room and head back out, not really knowing what to do at this point. I feel vulnerable. Exposed. Like I'm some primordial ape running through the African savanna to escape a giant eagle in the sky, not knowing if a lion or hyena is hidden in the grass ahead of me. I look through my notes on my phone. Murim's a necromancer, huh? Jus' what I fuckin' needed. A magical crow dat can bring back some deadheads to rip me apart. Limb from limb. Can't have that happen. Illusions. Making me see and hear things that aren't there. Basically an acid trip, but I'm not on drugs. But one question still remains: How did he get me to the Grove? Obviously his magic can do that. But how? That's what I can't figure out.
I take a deep breath, needing to steady myself again in the face of all this information.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
Repeat that for like, a minute, and I'm not shaking anymore. What can I do to get more information? One idea keeps coming to mind, but I don't really want to go through with it: The Museum of the Bizarre. Maybe there's something I missed in that special exhibit. Something that can help me understand just what the hell it is that's going on. But that means seeing the actual display again. And with everything that happened last night... Do I want to see that thing? The supposed appearance of Him? The more I think about this, the more I realize I might not really have a choice here. It's damned if I do, damned if I don't. So I go, slip my shoes on, grab my keys and head out of the apartment's door. My destination: The Historic District.
|-That afternoon. Museum of the Bizarre, 201 South Water Street-|
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
That old jawn got me through some real jank. Ain't no reason to stop now. I'm still hesitant. I don't want to go back in there, but again, I don't have much of a choice. While I collect myself, I go over some of the notes I took while skimming over Rob's case. Rob was an avid outdoors-man. Constantly heading into the wilderness surrounding Valley City, going so far as to head into Minnesota on occasion, heading as far east as Itasca State Park. In early April, 1982, sometime around the 6th, Rob went out east towards Park Rapids in Minnesota. From there he went into Itasca. Supposed to just be a week long adventure. Except he never came back to Valley City. Family and friends then started pestering the Park Rapids Police Department, then the Minnesota state police, eventually resulting in a missing persons case being opened. But they never found Rob. He disappeared without a trace. I sit up straight, adjusting my posture as I take a look at the museum. Time to head in.
I unbuckle my seat belt and push the door open, stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the spring sun. Before long, I'm paying the entrance fee to get into the museum, and I start looking around. Nothing I haven't seen before, but they're also not what I'm looking for. I walk for a few more minutes until I find Him. The little Rumpelstiltskin lookin' fuck. I approach the display and read the little sign again.
'No one really knows His name or where He comes from. A strange boy. Rumpelstiltskin. Or simply Him. All that is known is that He is prevalent in England and Germany and that He can grant one's deepest desire. This wish usually comes at a cost, a cost that no one is able to truly pin down. All that is known is that you must gather three gifts to present to Him at the behest of His marquises, the Crow and the Snake. With some luck and determination, He will accept the gifts and grant the seekers wish.'
There's gotta be more here. I briefly look around the room I'm in, and don't see anything immediately. But as I scan, I see not something... but someone. Someone who gives off weird vibes. I don't know if they work here. It's possible, but I don't want to hedge my bets. But it doesn't matter. Whoever she is, she's spotted me. Doesn't take long for her to make her approach.
"You look a bit mazed, do 'ee? 'Tisn't Him causin' it, is it me 'ansum?" She says when she reaches me. The fuck? Is she... like... English or something? I should probably respond before I get carried away here.
"Kinda. More like one of His servants." I tell her, still not entirely sure if this weird woman is friend or foe.
"Gurr, 'eez it? Which 'un then? The Serpent or the Crowser?" I hear her say next. No. Not English. Celtic. But she isn't Irish.
"The Crow. Mur-" She stops me before I can finish speaking, finger on my lips.
"Mind yerself, see. Just sayin' his name might fetch 'im right to 'ee. That's if you ain't already got his mark on 'ee, mind." Ah, fuck me, I'm done for...
"So, 'ee came outta the Grove, did 'ee? Hard ta reckon 'ee's as right as 'ee is, if 'ee did." She says as she takes a sip of her drink. She didn't drag me far from the museum, literally just at the end of the street it's on.
"Yeah. I'm surprised, too. Maybe even more than you." I respond, still unsure how I managed to get out of there without a scratch, save for that mark Murim put into my eye. The woman shifts in her seat, getting closer as she does so. I can't tell if it's a tick of the light or if it's something actually there, but I think she's got a tattoo on the back of her neck. One that looks like a snake...
"Aye, see, there's always more than what you reckon, innit? Times, the hurts are the ones you can't rightly see, mind." She says, still inching closer to me. I get the feeling she's trying to get into my pants. In a regular situation, I'd be okay with it, but this is not a regular situation. So I lightly push her away, wanting some personal space.
"What d'ya see in 'ere, me 'ansum?" She asks, a wry smile appearing on her lips as she does so. "An endless forest surrounding a giant field of wheat, itself surrounding a dead woodland. Skeletal horse-crow things kept following me in the wheat alongside zombies." I tell her, still unsure if I should be doing that. She takes another sip of her drink, eyes never leaving me as she does so. But she doesn't say anything afterwards. That can either be a good sign or a bad sign. Probably bad.
I reach over to grab a fry, the salt hitting my tongue as I start chewing. But I can still feel her eyes on me. It's like she's analyzing me, looking for something I somehow missed when I came out of the Grove. It's starting to get uncomfortable. Uncomfortable... and suspicious.
"It's mad rude to hawk, ya know?" I tell her, wanting to get the feeling of eyes off me. I already have Murim to deal with. I don't need her.
"No scratches nor marks, mind... 'less maybe..." She squints as she speaks, eyes never leaving mine. Fuck... She can see it, can't she? Murim's mark. I contemplated it before, and now I'm doing it again. Other people can see how my iris is misshapen. I just hope they think I'm some kind of medical anomaly.
"Narn o's be safe 'ere, us ain't. Can't be out 'n about like this fer too long." I then hear her say, nerves at the ready. Red flags being raised. It's like when Bo brought me to the museum and he just stared at the display of Him while muttering some bullshit: She knows more than she's letting on. And I don't like that. But then I hear her mutter something under her breath.
"The Serpent be creepin' and the Crow's out 'unting..." I think that's what I hear as I watch her walk away, her finger wagging in a gesture for me to follow her. My gut is saying no, but maybe she's my ticket to figuring everything out. So against my better judgement, for the umpteenth time, I follow her.
We end up back at my car, the woman sliding into my passenger seat while I get the engine started. I can feel the tension in the air. There's a lot of it. And I'm not liking this. A part of me feels like I've just signed my death warrant, but as I sneak a glace at her, I see that tattoo again. Definitely wasn't a trick of the light. There's something there. And it is in the shape of a snake. I don't like the way it makes me feels. The vibes it gives off. It's... too similar... I get my eyes somewhere else as I ignite the engine, and then I hear her speak again.
"Best 'ead on down t' Lake Forest, do 'ee." She says, knowing where it is she wants to go. And to take me in this impromptu kidnapping. "Us be on the same side, if ee wants to reckon that." Given everything that's happened over the past few days, things that I can't be certain of, that is something I am very certain of.
|-Late afternoon. 105 Pinecrest Parkway-|
"Make yerself acquainted, mind, but don't be gettin' too cozy. I ain't one for keepin' folks what's been marked hangin' about too long, see." She tells me as she flips the lights on, and I see a lot of things that I don't particularly like: Maps. Photographs in dark alleys and dead forests. What looks like a crime board. The kind a detective would put red thread over to connect the leads and evidence together.
"Jesus Christ..." Is all I can muster, still trying to process all of this. Whoever this woman is, it's clear that she's been at this for a while. And that concerns me. We look to be around the same age: Early to mid twenties. I walk over to some of the photos, and a few look way too familiar. They look like they were taken in the Grove. And then some others... A forest? A forest that's flooded? What the hell has she seen?
"I know this 'ere makes me look loike a right conspiracy nutter, an' maybe I am. But I spied the Crow's mark in yer eye back to th' museum, I did. Couldn't leave 'ee be after seein' that, no. Not when I'm lugged wi' a mark meself." She undresses to a point and turns her back to me, confirming what I was suspecting earlier: The snake tattoo. But it's not a tattoo. It's a branding. Like what Murim did to my eye.
"Who did that? Couldn't have been Mu- ER- the Crow, could it?" I ask, managing to stop myself from saying Murim's name out loud. The woman shifts, turning back to face me before she speaks again.
"The Snake. His other marquise, she is." The Snake... Right, He has another servant, doesn't He? How could I forget that part? But who is the Snake? Should I even ask that? Feels like something that will only bring more trouble my way. But whatever choice I'm thinking of gets made for me. "Whatever you reckon about the Crow, the Snake be a proper sight worse. 'Tisn't just tricks o't'eye and seein' things. She'll have 'ee fooled, she will. Lead 'ee astray. Play about wi' yer senses. Gotta keep yer wits about 'ee, or she'll have 'ee for sure." That's... ominous. Because of course the Snake is worse than Murim. Why wouldn't she be?
"So what're we doin'? Can't keep givin' the runaround. She got a name or what?" That was a bad thing to ask. Knowing that I can't say Murim's name out loud, like he's a wendigo or something. I expect the idea to get shot down, but to my surprise, the woman comes closer, and whispers something into my ear.
"Aziel." She takes a step back, judging my reaction before she speaks again. "She 'eard that, I reckon, an' she's a-comin' 'ere now. Not that it matters a fig, mind. You saw 'er mark right 'ere on me neck, didn' ya?" She's probably right. If this is like a wendigo, speaking the name would probably empower it. Hey, speaking of names...
"Do you have a name? How do I know you're actually real and that this isn't a hallucination?" I ask, tone getting aggressive. But the woman seems to understand.
"Senara. I'm from Penzance." She says, no hint of anger in her voice. Guess she's done this before.
I scan the room again, seeing various different objects: A head bundle of wheat. A dead crow preserved in what I have to assume is formaldehyde. A big-ass snake skin. I pan over and see sage on the coffee table. Is it for burning? I wouldn't be surprised. But would it actually work? Would it be an effective deterrent? Should I ask? Does it matter? Senara has probably seen where I'm looking at this point.
"Old maid back 'ome in Kernow, she give 'em to me afore I come 'ere to Wilmington. Said they'd 'elp keep me safe, she did." She says, looking at the sage solemnly.
"Did it?" I ask, unsure if I want to know the answer.
"Nah, see, these 'ere ain't no ordinary devils we'm tanglin' wi'. Burning sage an' scatterin' salt? Won't do a bit o' good, zur. Once they've marked 'ee, 'tisn't 'bout if they find 'ee, but when. And find 'ee they will, sure as eggs. No hidin' from that, no way." Senara responds, her voice going monotone. Not a good sign. A bad sign, some might say. If salt rings and burning sage won't keep us safe... Then what will?
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
One last huff and I'm steadied. For now, at least. Where do we go from here? How do we protect ourselves? Senara has clearly been at this for a while. Maybe a year or two given how many photos and artifacts she has. She has to have some ideas.
"Is there anything we can do?" I ask, wanting something that can help in this. I watch Senara take a deep breath as she formulates a response. I don't think I'm going to like what I'm about to hear.
"Proper job? I dunno. I've tried all sorts, I 'ave. They don't allus work." She respond, voice still monotone, giving an answer that's somehow worse than what I was expecting.
"They don't work?" I ask, voice trembling with angst.
"Not for long, no. They keep findin' new ways to mess 'bout wi' me, see? 'Tis bin a bit of a job, keepin' up, like." She says, something that does nothing to ease my nerves. I take another glance at the sage on the table. It's partially burnt, telling me it was used recently, but I don't smell anything. Must've been sometime last night, judging by the fact there's no real aroma in the air and by how much the sage is charred.
thump
Something hits a window. It's loud enough to get our attention, and I'm being reminded of Sunday morning, when I first saw Murim. I remember distinctly he was hitting the window of that hotel room multiple times just to get my attention. All during that stupid "Witching Hour"...
"Yer gotta be goin' now." I hear Senara say, putting my nerves on edge.
"What? No way. Not when he's out there, waitin' for either of us to come outta here." I protest, knowing I won't get far. Senara seems like the stubborn type.
"Tisn't the Crow." Her tone is adamant, stern. She then walks towards me and slides something into my hand.
"Right, off you go now. And don't be gawkin' behind 'ee." As if on instinct, I start moving. It's a blur, images blending together but I make it to my car and start moving. But now I've got another thing to worry about: Aziel.
|-That evening. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive-|
Aziel... The Snake... His other marquise... Another thing I need to worry about. It's bad enough that I've got Murim to deal with, but now her? Ah fuck, dis is gonna get wicked complicated, I swear. Think, Cam. There's gotta be something I can do to ward them off. Something that will be able to hide me from these things. Even if it is just for a little bit. Any time is better than no time.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
Jumping back on the laptop seems like a bad idea. Like a gateway to more problems than solutions. I don't want to take that risk. Not in the slightest. But then I remember: The slip of paper. Senara slid it into my hand before I left. That means it has something on it... and that whatever it is, it's important. I take it out of my pocket and unfold the paper. It's a number. A phone number. Senara's phone number. Immediately, I get ideas in my head. I immediately grab my phone and put the number in, writing out my message. I send it, and within a few seconds I get a response.
'Didn't think you'd have the balls. What do you need?' Is what I read. Funny how she sounds borderline unintelligible when speaking. But over text, it's a whole different fuckin' story. Aight, whateva.
'Just how much do you know?" I ask, sure that the answer I will get won't be as bad as earlier. 'Too much. Way too much. Sometimes I wish I didn't know any of this.' What a helpful response. Maybe I should be more specific.
'Aziel won't start coming after me now, will she?' Will typing out her name empower her? I fuckin' hope not. I feel my phone buzz as I look around, meaning that Senara has responded.
'No. Aziel will leave you alone. You have Murim's mark. They don't get a long too well.' That's some form of relief. I just need to worry about Murim. But that means that I still need to worry about Murim. I then watch as Senara forms another response before it gets sent.
'The reverse is also true: I've got Aziel's branding on my neck. Murim leaves me alone because of that. Probably for the better Murim's after you. If it was Aziel's attention you got, you'd have been dead a while ago.' Well that's reassuring. If this Snake was the one after me, I'd already be dead. How fun.
'What can I expect now? Does Murim even know about you?' I ask, still trying to get as much information as I can.
'Yes. But again, he doesn't bother me. Though that might change if he's seen you with me. We were being followed by a murder after leaving the museum.' Oh for fuck's sake...
caw
caw
caw
I turn my head to face the source of the sound. In some of the brush past the sidewalk, I see three crows. They've probably been spying on me since I got back to Maddy's building. I wouldn't be surprised if it was for longer, like this morning. Murim uses crows as spies, after all. Like some fucked up analogy for Odin and his ravens. His eyes and ears. And I can tell they're under Murim's spell. Those birds are looking straight at me. Piercing my soul with those black eyes of theirs. No pretending here. He knows where to find me now. Has for a while. I feel my phone buzz again. Serana has sent me another message.
'Take care. You've been marked. Nowhere is safe from the marquises after that. Not truly. I'll keep in contact when I can, but I won't make promises.' I take that as my cue to head inside, hoping that the crows don't see me move. But as I scan around, I don't see them. That should put me at ease, but it doesn't. Those murderbirds could be anywhere: In a tree nearby. On top of one of the buildings. Fuck, they could be on top of my car for all I know. I keep my ears open to hear scuffling and scraping above me. I listen closely for a few seconds, but calm down a bit when I hear nothing. I'm in the clear, but I can't be too sure of it. So I get out of my car and make a mad dash for building 4721. Once I'm inside the building, I take a deep breath of relief and head for the third floor. I get to the elevator, open the door and press the button. After a few seconds, it starts to close, only for it to re-open. It's Bo. He must've come back as soon as I did. But something is... off. I can't quite place what, though.
"You alright there, Cam? You look whiter than a ghost. You been gettin' your shut-eye?" He asks, the worry evident in his voice.
"Uh, yeah... I'm fine." I tell him, not wanting to be called crazy. But Bo then says something that sets me on edge again.
"Not ever'body sees a crow and hightails it outta there. You been havin' a bee in your bonnet 'bout somethin'. What's eatin' at you, Cam?" Oh fuck me... Looks like that jawn from the other day's comin' back: Bo knows way more than he's lettin' on. He's onto Murim. Onto Him. The elevator starts rising and it becomes a blur again. I don't get lucid until we're in Maddy's apartment. 3G. Bo quickly heads into the kitchen and gets me some water, wanting me to have some clarity of mind before I start speaking. I tae the glass and start drinking from it. Three big gulps and then I set it down on the coffee table.
"What's all the fuss? I know crows are a little touched, but scarin' folks off like that? Ain't everybody does that, now." I hear him say in that accent of his. How do I even start...
"If I told yous, youse wouldn't believe it. Not even a lil' bit." Is my response. Bo seems like the traditional sort. So what he says next surprises me.
"You'd be surprised. I done spent a good spell over on my granddaddy's farm up yonder in Burgaw, just a holler north of here. Lord have mercy, I done heard and seen some right peculiar things." He starts going into some story, but I'm not paying attention. Not out of malice, but because there's something else that has my eye. It's glinting, and it's in Bo's room. I get up, interrupting Bo and walk over to it.
"Hey, you doin' okay there, Cam?" He says as he follows me. But I'm not paying attention. I reach whatever was glinting, reach down, and pull it out.
"Fucking shit..." I say as I look at it. And Bo seems to have a similar reaction to it.
"Lawd have mercy and bless my heart... It's more'n just some kinda haint tale... Shouldn't've gone and doubted Paw-Paw..."
I've got a gold feather in my hand... Murim knows I'm here. Shit's 'bout to get real fucked up now.