CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
A pool of white mist circled the House on North Lane, crawling up the front steps and onto the porch where I stood, my mother's crucifix trembling in my hands. The trees loomed closer, watching me, waiting.
Red bed sheets flashed behind my eyelids with every blink, my mind conjuring images of Auden's lifeless, blood-drenched corpse. I no longer cared about finding my mother. All I cared about was him. I had to find him. He had to be okay. I saved him once, and I would do so again.
The Devil wrestled for control as I unlocked the door, a damp rot greeting me with a cold embrace. He screamed, begged, negotiated for release, but I didn't need him. My rage was my own.
I covered a hand over my mouth and nose as I stepped inside, eyes watering from the smell. Dead animals, no doubt. Rotting corpses in the ceiling, under the floorboards, buried in the walls.
What if it's not animals? What if it's Auden?
"It's not Auden," I growled out, though fear had already embedded itself in my lungs, every breath a battle as I ventured deeper into the House.
You don't know that.
A light flickered on, illuminating the ash covered living room, a long wooden beam dangling from the charcoal ceiling. Rats scurried back into their hiding places, maggots crawling over dried blood that stained the floorboards. I released a shuddered breath.
Standing in the chalk pentagram in the centre of the room was my mother.
She was dressed in the same white gown she'd worn the night of the exorcism, and every night since in my dreams, her hair a tangled nest of auburn curls and dust. Her skin had paled, as though she had spent all these years hiding from sunlight.
Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!
My breath hitched in my throat, conflicting emotions tearing through my heart and mind.
I wanted to run to her; wanted to run from her.
I wanted to burrow into her chest, be held the way I used to when I was a small boy, chasing my mother's love.
I wanted to abandon her to the House's wicked whims. But I could not leave. Not without my brother.
Reuniting with her no longer had the desired effect. She had taken too much from me. Auden was all I had. And she took him; stole him from me. I had nothing if I didn't have my second half.
“Where is Auden?” I demanded.
She offered no response. Nothing but a blink.
“Where is he?!” I repeated.
Her lips parted, Latin rolling off her tongue. Even now, after all this time, she saw only the Devil and not her son.
“It doesn’t work, Ma!” I shouted, arms sprawled out like an angel’s wingspan. “You’ve tried it before! And guess what? The Devil is still in me!”
Her eyes widened, but she did not stop, nor back away. She was glued to the spot, trapped in the pentagram intended for me.
“Tell. Me. Where. Auden. Is!”
She refused to answer, voice rising as The Lord's Prayer spilled from her lips. There were no flames, but I could feel their heat. It burned through me until manic laughter erupted from deep inside of me, a dormant volcano no longer.
"…Hallowed Be Thy FUCKING Name!" I prayed with her, both hands wrapped around the crucifix in mock prayer. "What does that even mean, Ma?! Do you even know?!"
It means to make holy the name of God, the Devil answered my question, and separate it from all that would dishonour it.
"Well, this…" I said, gesturing to my mother, the pentagram, and the remnants of a House that no longer felt like a home. "…none of this honours God! You idolised Joe—a human—over your God, allowing him to corrupt your soul. I may be the Devil, but you are certainly no saint. Where is Auden?!"
The Latin, the prayers, they continued as if I had said nothing.
Shaking my head, I stepped forward to snap her out of her mania, to plead for whatever part of my mother was left in this empty shell, but my hands passed right through her.
I stumbled forward, the absence of a solid form sending me straight inside the pentagram.
Glancing in between my hands and my mother, my momentary confusion prevented me from registering the circle of flames crawling toward me.
It wasn't until thick smoke clouded my vision that it hit me.
I was exactly where I had been all those years ago. Had this all been some kind of trap?
A tug on my shirt diverted my attention, gaze falling on Auden, an endless stream of tears cascading down his face. He was four years old again, and scared, rocking back and forth as he coughed, and coughed, and coughed. I really had returned to that night in North Lane. Had I ever left?
Joe sidled up to my mother, his dark eyes ablaze with flickering flames. They spoke in tongues, their voices rising louder in unison, the flames growing taller. I was succumbing to the smoke once more, just as I had as a boy.
Falling to my knees, I reached for Auden, desperate to shield him from the raging heat.
You will die. You have to let me in.
Curled up, gasping for air, I watched my mother through the orange glow. She smiled, warmth flooding back into her skin. I screamed. Her smile grew wider. How had I ever hoped to save her?
Let me in. The Devil’s voice was urgent, pleading. I can save us.
My eyelids slammed shut. I couldn’t hold on any longer. Auden was weakening in my arms. His breathing was shallow, ash clogging his airways. I cleared it with my fingers, rolling him onto his side as he coughed up black phlegm.
Let me in!
I was not the villain of this story. I was a hero. I would save my brother. I was not the monster my mother claimed me to be.
But the Devil was. And I let him in.
My eyelids snapped open as I rose to my feet, the Devil carrying Auden and I through the flames. He placed him down carefully, my mother's gasp stuttering her words as the crucifix she wielded like a weapon fell from her grasp.
The Devil crouched down to lift it, waiting for a burn that never came.
“See, ma?” I asked, voice crackling like wood around a campfire. “Your God has abandoned you. You didn't hallow His name well enough.”
She lunged for me, sharp nails outstretched like daggers. I stepped to the side, the absence of my tall frame sending her to the floor, knees slamming against the wooden floorboards with a sickening crunch.
A quiet sob escaped her throat. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be…"
The Devil prowled forward, circling her like a predator preparing its kill.
All I could think about, as I gazed down at her trembling body, was stopping her from hurting Auden—hurting me—once and for all. I just wanted it all to end.
“Look at me,” I said. A demand, not a request.
My mother slowly lifted her gaze, black tears pouring from her red-rimmed eyes.
“Why did you come for him?” I asked.
“For who?”
“Auden,” I hissed.
“I did not come for him,” she said. “He came to me. He wanted to come home.”
I hesitated, Auden’s words replaying in my head: ‘I want to go home…to North Lane.’
“And instead of welcoming him, you what…continue what you started that night?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
I shook my head, disgusted at what she had become. Perhaps if she had been less critical of the Devil inside me, and looked in the mirror herself, she would have seen the evil within. She was the monster here. Not me.
There can always be more than one monster, Augustus.
My jaw clenched. Even now, the Devil was not entirely on my side. Even now, he tormented me.
“I want my son. Give me my son.” My mother’s nails slashed my cheek, a manic gleam in her eye as she watched me stumble, nearly losing hold of the crucifix.
“I am your son!” Blood rolled down my throbbing cheek, the taste of iron lingering on my tongue. “I want my mother!”
“You are no son of mine.”
It hurt. Even after all this time, it hurt. I advanced forward, eyes locked on my mother, crucifix gripped firmly in my hand.
“I am God’s soldier,” she said, “armed to fight the Devil. And the Devil wears my baby boy’s face to manipulate me. His deception will not win. You will not win.”
She was sick, so very, very sick. My father should have gotten her help when he had the chance. It never had to be like this.
“Let Auden and I go,” I said, softly, “I don’t want to fight you anymore.”
“I can’t do that.”
Her hand shot for my throat, but the Devil was faster. He seized control of my body, throwing me into the iron cage deep in the darkest corner of my mind while he stepped back, escaping her cold clutches.
In my mother’s brief moment of hesitation, the Devil slammed my foot into her stomach, her knees reuniting with the floorboards once more with a choked gasp. This time, the Devil did not let her rise. He showed her the same mercy she had shown Auden and I—none.
“Tell me I am not the Devil,” he said, using my voice as he twirled the crucifix in my hand, “and I will let you live.”
My mother trembled, tears pooling in her wide, unblinking eyes. “You are the Devil!"
“It didn’t have to be this way,” he sighed, the floorboards cracking beneath my feet as he guided me forward, grip tightening on the crucifix. “But you’ve given me no choice.”
My arm lifted without my permission, the crucifix raised high above my head.
Everything slowed.
My mother inhaled.
The Devil exhaled.
I slammed my fists against the iron bars of my cage, shouting for it all to end.
And it did.
The Devil brought the sharp end of the crucifix down on the top of my mother's head, her body crumbling to the floor. She was still, too still, blood spilling from her head like water tipping over a waterfall. It reddened the floor beneath her, a stark contrast to her pale flesh.
The crucifix fell to the floor in slow motion, my hands fluttering wildly at my sides.
I murdered my mother.
She was dead. Dead. I killed her.
Swallowing back the bile that rose in my throat, I turned toward Auden, only for my reflection to confront me inside the mirror that had started it all. Where had it come from? Why was it here? Who was I staring at?
The reflection was eight years old—brown curls shorter than they were now, hazel eyes wider, blood seeping from the clawed wound on his cheek. His hands, trembling like mine, were stained red, a pale corpse bleeding out behind him.
My mother’s corpse.
Do you see?
“No,” I whispered.
Yes, you do. But you refuse.
“It’s not real.”
You murdered your mother.
“It’s not real.”
You murdered her eleven years ago.
“It’s not real.”
You murdered her that night in North Lane.
“No, I saw her tonight.”
You went right through her.
“A hallucination.”
A ghost.
“I had to save Auden.”
And you did.
“It’s not real.”
Your father told you she left. But he saw the body. He buried it.
“It’s not real.”
You’ve known the truth this whole time.
“It’s not real.”
You have to face what you have done.
“It’s not real.”
I’m not real.
“It’s not real.”
I’ve never been real.
“It’s not real.”
You are the monster.
“It’s not real.”
You need to face it, Augustus.
Auden. I needed to find Auden. He was the reason I was here—the reason I let in the Devil. I needed to save him and prove I wasn't the monster everyone thought I was.
“Auden?!” I choked out.
I scoured every inch of the first floor, the mirror following me into every room, a haunting reminder of what I had done.
“It’s not real."
It's real.
"It's real."
It's not real.
"It's not real."
We can play this game all day.
"It's not real."
I ascended the staircase, shouting Auden’s name into the endless void. There was no response. Every room was empty.
Breathing heavily, stomach threatening to bring up my last meal, I bolted downstairs to check the outside perimeter, but when my fingers wrapped around the door handle, it would not open. I tried again, and again, and again, even using my foot to kick it open, but it would not budge.
Frustrated, I hurried to a boarded-up window and attempted to yank off the planks of wood. An invisible force threw me backwards, pain shooting down my spine.
There was no way out. Not one door, window, or crack. The House would not let me leave. I was trapped—a prisoner of the House on North Lane.