13 Mink Street

Chapter 27: I Am Summoning You

"Hey, are you the one who stole my money?" The old woman’s eyes were cloudy white, showing not even a hint of any pupils.

Her gaze left Karon feeling as if he had been thrown into a freezer. A biting cold crept through his skin to gnaw at his bones. It surged in upon him from all sides until it smothered his heart. Even his thoughts, which should have tried to escape from the chill, froze like the surface of a river in winter. Something still moved beneath, but it was out of reach, entirely separated from him. It was an uncanny state. He could still sense that he was himself, yet could no longer recall who that was. He believed he should be able to think, but nothing would come.

The last time Karon had felt this sensation had been when Jeff had led him into Mrs. Molly’s “sleep paralysis.” That had been like shifting into a deeper stratum of a dream. This was different. This was a clean break that sundered soul and awareness.

The cold was not there to frighten, nor to threaten. It was not even searching for cracks in his heart to pry apart the last fragments of his will. It simply froze him in place.

“My money. You took it, didn’t you?” The old woman’s lips curved to form a faint smile. It wasn’t particularly sinister. In fact, it looked almost gentle. Yet, that very incongruity, the dissonance between her face and the feeling she gave off was enough to twist one’s gut.

It wasn’t that Karon chose to remain there, numb and helpless. His chance to react had already been taken away from him. What was happening was happening to him, and yet he felt like nothing more than a witness, a painted figure gazing out from within the canvas. The world was unraveling before his eyes, bland and unreachable.

“My money. You must give it back to me.” The woman’s face withdrew into the shadows, but then her withered hand reached up from the hole to close tight around Karon’s throat.

His upper body was already draped off the bed, one hand weakly braced against cold tile. He was powerless to move away. All he was capable of doing was merely registering the fact that something freezing cold touched his neck.

The hole—barely wide enough for a face—began to stretch, and its darkness deepened into a true abyss. Karon felt himself slipping into the role of an offering which would soon be claimed.

“My money... my money...”

The floor tiles melted like chocolate beneath a flame. The bed frame, the table, every at the edges in of his vision blurred and shifted, slipping from solid to a liquid that pulsed and surged. Even Karon’s own shape seemed to dissolve into the flow. The hole hungered, intent on drawing everything above down into it.

Just then, a black, formless blur dropped from the bed to land in front of Karon. As it neared the hole, it suddenly leapt to life. Meow!

Karon had always favored quiet, in his current life as well as in the last. He disliked noise. Yet that sharp cry, high and insistent, struck him as something close to salvation. The meow sent chaotic ripples through the liquid world, and the fragments of Karon’s mind, scattered and sent adrift, managed to regather themselves, if only barely.

The old woman’s voice lingered, persistent and unwilling to relinquish what she had claimed, yet Pu’er, the source of the cry, crouched at the mouth of the hole. Her left paw reached out, claws extended as sheslashed downwards.

A stark red line opened across the old woman’s face. It was a wound from being scratched by a cat’s claws.

She screamed.

The pulling vortex stalled, and then recoiled. Everything snapped away, as if something had ruptured at its core. There was a dull, far-off detonation.

...

“Thud!”

Karon slammed into the floor, pain exploding from every joint. Another jolt of agony ripped through the wound in his chest, as sharp as a blade. He gasped while shrinking back. He half expected to find a pit yawning at his feet, but when he looked down, the tiles beneath his bed were solid; unclean, but intact.

The overhead lights flicked on. Pu’er stood on the nightstand, her paw just pulling back from the switch. Before Karon could form any words, she spoke first, “A demonkin. A Beguiler.”

Her eyes stayed on him as she continued, “You weren’t hallucinating this morning; There’s a Beguiler beneath us. This is serious. We need to notify Tiz.”

"Before we call Tiz, can you help me press the call button?" Karon asked.

Pu’er blinked her cat eyes. She raised a paw and pointed at the door. "Before calling, you should probably move whatever’s blocking the door."

Karon let out a sigh. He moved to sprawl flat on the floor as he waited for the pain to ebb a bit before slowly pushing himself upright. He walked to the door, dragged the cabinet aside, and then removed the mop.

Only then did Pu’er press the button.

Karon sat back on the edge of the bed, examining the wound in his chest. His movements had pulled at it, but the stitches still held.

"A Beguiler... that’s a type of demonkin?" he asked. Demonkin had to be a broad category, much like how humanity was divided into several ethnicities.

"Yes, but Beguilers are extremely rare. Alfred, even with his Succubus Eye, can’t really count as one. Beguilement goes beyond shifting a person’s emotions with illusions or dreams; A true Beguiler can cut straight into your consciousness. They can command it, instantly turning you into a puppet. Compared to that, creatures like Mrs. Hughes and Ms. Molly, who merely frighten or devour people, are hardly worth mentioning."

"So why did she come after me? I swear, I never took her money." Every grudge had a root. Why had he been singled out for this one?

"I couldn’t find an explanation before, but when she targeted you, things finally made sense."

"What made sense?"

"Your ability is overflowing. You’re impossible to miss. It’s like when, half a year ago, Lent snuck into the bathroom at dawn to wash his own underwear."

"..." Karon said nothing.

"It’s nothing personal. Beguilers sense things strongly, and you’re close by. Her world is like an ocean of darkness, while you’re a glaring light at the center of it."

"Earlier, you-" Karon licked his lips. "You were incredible just now."

He wasn’t exaggerating. Without Pu’er’s intervention, he felt certain his soul would have been ripped out.

"She was just unlucky," Pu’er replied modestly. "I’m no fighter, but when it comes to things like this, I still have a bit of... instinct remaining."

"Instinct?"

Pu’er’s lips curled to form a black cat’s grin, strange and sharp. "I was once a Beguiler, and a pure-blooded one at that. She isn’t."

"So demonkin have bloodlines too? I thought only cats and dogs cared about pedigree."

"Watch yourself. Especially in front of an elder who just saved your life."

"Alright."

"A bloodline is just evolution. Demonkin strive to ascend, to purify their essence. The churches do the same. They insist they want nothing but to serve their god, but deep down, all of them hope to one day stand atop the altar themselves."

"So you can’t handle this... the thing beneath us?"

"I’m just a cat. If you want something to fight, you might as well drag that stupid golden retriever here from home. No, forget that. That retriever is less than useless."

Karon nodded.

"Call Tiz. Beguilers are rare, and when one loses control, the devastation can be overwhelming. Mrs. Hughes only took a few lives. There was once a Beguiler who became the leader of a nation through sheer persuasion. They built an empire, brief and savage."

The door to the ward creaked open and a nurse stepped in. Maina was off. She only worked the day shift. "Sir, do you need something?"

"I need to call my family. It’s urgent," Karon replied.

In a VIP ward, most requests would be granted, provided they weren’t something absurd. Sometimes, if a patient was young and single, they might even leave the hospital arm-in-arm with a nurse. The nurses in the ward changed jobs as often as receptionists at major firms.

"Of course. What’s your phone number..." Karon’s head snapped up, suddenly uneasy. Even in a regular ward, the nurse’s station had a list of contacts for the patients. Given he was in a VIP ward, his name should be on a separate list. There was no need for her to ask.

Meow! Pu’er yowled as she sprang at the nurse’s face, her claws raking down.

The resulting sound was like a pencil tearing through notebook paper as a patch of skin peeled from the nurse’s cheek, but then just hung there.

She didn’t scream. Her expression stayed as calm as before while her hands reached for Pu’er without hesitation. The cat sprang away, her claws flashing to rip the approaching hand.

Pain didn’t slow the nurse. In a flash, both of her hands had grabbed a hold of Pu’er. She lifted the cat and hurled her to the floor. There was a sharp crack as Pu’er struck the floor hard.

The nurse went after the cat with a kick. Her shoes were flat, but the leather was unyielding. Pu’er took the blow and skidded into a corner, curling up there as a pool of blood began to seep across the floor.

The nurse continued to advance, reaching for the cat yet again.

From the moment Pu’er had leapt out and scratched the nurse’s face to the moment she had caught and thrown, everything had occurred too quickly for Karon to even react, but at this moment, he managed to brace himself against the bed, tensing up as he swung a kick at the nurse’s side.

She toppled, her head striking the tile with a dull, muted thud.

Karon pushed himself upright, frantically searching for anything that could serve as a weapon.

The nurse barely touched the floor before reaching out to seize his ankle and lunge at him. Karon took the blow, collapsing backwards onto the bed. The nurse fell on top of him, her weight and limbs pinning him in place as she straddled his chest. His wound throbbed, the pain so sharp he almost blacked out. Fainting might have been a mercy, though Karon knew that if he lost consciousness now, it would be for good.

The nurse’s hands closed around his throat. Her face was still calm—impassive, detached—but her grip was merciless.

Karon fought back, the wound in his chest tore open wider, and fresh blood soaked through his hospital gown. He was no match for her. His body was frail, not to mention still mending, while the nurse felt nothing. There was no pain to hold her back.

His hand groped for something, anything. He found a cold spine. Maina’s book, I Have Bound Your Heart.

Hardcover, thank god. Karon seized the book and smashed the corner into the nurse’s face. Once. Twice. Again.

One of her eyes was crushed. Her nose became misshapen and started swelling, and yet still her grip didn’t slacken.

Karon’s strength drained away. Darkness crept in on the edges of his vision. On the last swing, and the book fell from his grasp. Across the room, Pu’er lay curled and motionless.

Even then, Karon could only think, If only the last Karon had exercised. If only I’d started eating better. If only Tiz hadn’t stabbed me.

Too late for any of that.

His strength was nearly gone. He could hardly lift a hand. His fingers helplessly brushed the nurse’s cheek and neck, but there was not enough force to push her away.

Then, suddenly, Karon saw another nurse standing there beside the first one. She appeared identical to the first, except that she bore no bruises and no fresh wounds.

She stood there, seemingly dazed and confused, as if she’d just lost her purse and didn’t know where to search next.

Instantly, Karon remembered the basement: Mr. Mossan and the other Mossan. Is this it? Has it triggered?

There was no time to wonder. Karon turned his head—or maybe merely shifted his gaze—causing the second woman’s image to move with him.

The air in his chest was nearly spent. He felt his soul was about to lift off and drift away, yet he forced himself to bring the two images into alignment. The second figure and the woman straddling him overlapped, and then merged.

Abruptly, the nurse’s hands released his throat. He sucked in air, gasping, convulsing and coughing. It was a desperate, animalistic sound. For a moment, even the pain in his chest vanished.

Above him on the bed, the nurse’s body rocked back and forth. She lurched forward, only for her arms to recoil. She then lurched forward again, only to jerk away, as though yanked by invisible strings.

She then started to claw at herself; One hand gouged at her own neck as the other smashed at her arm. Her teeth bit deep into her fingers. It was a vision of madness, bloody and terrible. It was like watching two enemies locked in combat, except that both inhabited the same ruined body.

Pu’er lifted her head, red marring her lips, yet her eyes locked onto the chaos.

“Control... her...” she managed to call out.

The Inquisitor’s gift—that essential skill of the Church of Order—was to awaken the dead. Pu’er had watched Karon use it in the basement, commanding Mr. Mossan. She knew he had the ability, if incomplete, raw, and uncontrolled.

The Beguiler was lodged in the nurse’s flesh. If the inner turmoil was not harnessed quickly, if Karon could not subdue the confusion, the demonkin would quickly regain command.

Then, no matter how battered the body, what hope did a gravely wounded cat and a half-healed youth have against a possessed adult who was immune to pain?

Karon never actually heard Pu'er’s words; Her voice was too weak to reach him. He only became aware of her presence when his coughing subsided and his attention returned to the nurse. She was changing before his eyes; her confusion giving way to a sharp, singular focus. The internal struggle seemed to be growing less violent, yet something else was happening as well. For a moment, it looked as though the woman’s phantom might tear itself loose, shatter, and vanish.

A harsh, broken giggle rattled from the nurse’s throat. Her mouth curled into a twisted smile. She released the grip on her own neck, and with that freed hand, reached for Karon once again.

His eyes flared. He yelled, "Kneel!"

With a dull thud, the nurse dropped, slamming her forehead against the edge of the bed. Even with one hand braced against the floor, she clawed her way forward, trying to reach him on the far side of the bed, but she could not close the distance. Relentlessly, she battered her forehead against the wood, her arm stretching and scrabbling, yet always falling just short.

Karon was stunned at her obedience. For a breath, he could only stare. Then, he forced himself to speak again, "Freeze!"

Immediately, the grasping hand stopped, rigidly hanging in midair. The only sound to be heard was the scratch of her voice, raw and cracked as it slipped out between breaths. It was barely even a word: "Money... money... money..."

"Silence."

At last, the voice that had haunted him all day went dead.

Karon did not dare touch the nurse, her brow pressed up against the bedframe. Instead, he quietly slid to the floor. Across the room, Pu'er struggled to get upright.

"How long will she stay like this?" Karon asked.

"Not long," Pu’er replied. She sounded uncertain, unable to judge how long the power he’d used would actually hold.

"I’ll go call Tiz." Karon left the room. The hallway outside was strangely quiet, untouched by the turmoil that had just played out behind his door. He only heard a distant cough from somewhere else in the ward. It felt, in a way, as if his room had been sealed off from the rest of the world until this moment.

Clutching his chest, Karon made his way to the nurse’s station. The night nurse lay on the floor there, unconscious. Along the edge of the desk was a row of indicator lights; there was one for each room, with the VIP rooms listed separately. Normally, when a call bell was pressed, the nurse would switch off the lamp before going to the room. Tonight, the light for his room was still blazing.

He didn’t bother trying to rouse the nurse. Instead, he picked up the telephone and dialed home.

The phone rang for a long time before Aunt Mary finally answered, "Hello, Immers Funeral Home."

"Aunt Mary, let Grandpa answer."

"Karon? Is something wrong?"

"Let Grandpa answer."

"Father isn’t home tonight. He’s been going to visit Mr. Hoffen the last few evenings. The old man’s gotten much worse—"

Karon hung up before she could finish. There was no rudeness behind his actions; There simply wasn’t time to waste on explanations, not now. Knowing that Tiz was not at home, impatience swept through Karon. Without mobile phones, searching for anyone who didn’t have access to a landline was a slow, frustrating ordeal.

Still, as soon as the line was clear, Karon dialed another number, with barely any hesitation.

This time, the phone was picked up before the first ring even ended. A deep male voice answered, resonant and steady, "Hello?"

Karon exhaled, slow and shaky, he spoke into the receiver, "I am summoning you now."