Cry, Baby, Cry
by netsuj on Apr.19, 2010, under American Arcane, Cry Baby Cry
Hey, guess what, there’s a new Jake Sinclair story! I’ll be posting the first hlaf today, the second half later tonight once I’ve wrapped up editing. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I have writing! And, as always, reviews are always welcome!
“Cry, Baby, Cry,” by Justen Hunter
I like Saturday mornings. It’s a day off, really. Sure, I work odd hours, ranging anywhere from midnight to, well, midnight, but that’s how it is when you’re a witch-for-hire. Saturday mornings, however, are a bit of a sacred item for me. As a child of the eighties and nineties, the Saturday morning is like a second Sabbath. Well, it’s the only one for me. The Sinclair relationship with organized religion abruptly ended with the Spanish Inquisition. I’ll give you three guesses as to which side we were on, and the first two don’t count.
This particular rainy gray Saturday, I was hanging out at the house of my partner, McKenzie O’Donahue. McKenzie was a former New York cop, a woman with the gift of ectomancy, or the raising of ghosts. She was also one of the best hands at fighting the things that go bump in the night this side of an archangel. She’d moved out to California with her husband Patrick to raise their kid, and we’d gone in and made our own detective business.
I was sitting in their living room, lying back on the couch. Kenzie and Pat had lucked out, grabbing an old two-story house in one of San Francisco’s many nice neighborhoods. Their house looked like just about any other house that held a married couple and a five year-old, a certain order and disorder mixed together.
There was cleanliness, with everything in its rightful place. Crayons and books were all arranged on one corner of the coffee table, and a small chest sat open, showing a collection of Kenzie and Pat’s various souvenirs from their vacationing days. But on the floor were the tell-tale stains of Diet Coke and juice spills, and the light wood of the coffee table was burnt in one place.
In front of me, sitting on the floor, was Abby O’Donahue. She was the very image of her two parents. The spry kid was all awkward limbs, crossed Indian-style while her little hands grasped a game controller. She had long red hair, the wild kinks of her mother pulled back into a pony tail, and freckles to match her father. “Uncle Jake,” She said, her voice the cheery brightness of any kid without school to worry about. “Why does Bowser kidnap the princess?”
“I dunno, Abby.” I replied, a little smile coming to my face. “It’s one of the great unanswered questions.”
“Well,” She said, with the absolute certainty of someone her age. “If I was Peach, I’d kick Bowser’s big turtle butt.”
I sat up. “Really?” I asked.
“Uh-huh. After all, how hard’s it to beat him? If you can win with Luigi…”
I chuckled a little. “Ouch, harsh, kid.” I winked a little.
“What’s my baby saying?” asked Kenzie O’Donahue as she reentered the living room. McKenzie was a woman with skin the color of chocolate, tall and cutting a tough but pretty picture of an Amazon. She was wearing jeans, a tank top, and an unzipped sweatshirt, her standard non-working attire. Her husband, Patrick, was absent, down in Los Angeles meeting with another P.I. firm.
“She’s saying she’d kick Boswer’s butt.” I offered.
Abby looked up to her mother, her eyes like saucers. “I bet I could! You guys fight monsters all the time.”
About a year ago, Abby had discovered the reason why her parents worked long hours, had the biggest collection of weapons in San Francisco short of the police or the National Guard, and kept holy symbols from religions other than their traditional Irish Catholic roots. Kenzie had sworn her to secrecy, and you had to give the kid credit. For a five year-old, she kept that secret well.
“So,” Kenzie looked over to me. “What’d you bring for us to watch today?”
I lifted a DVD box from the table. “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. As a godfather, it’s my duty to see that Abby here’s educated in all the arts.” Abby nodded profusely at that.
“You just want someone to nerd out with.” Her mother accused me.
“Hey, I-” My answer was drowned out by a loud crack, like a whip’s crack played through an amplifier. I covered my ears, grunting as the lights in the house went out.
Abby let out a little shriek, and I saw Kenzie’s shadow instantly move towards her daughter. “It’s okay, sweetie. Just a little power outage.” She soothed. “Jake, there’s flashlights in the closet.”
“Gotcha,” I said. I pulled out my keys, finding the little light on them and illuminating a little cone towards me. I headed back out of the living room, finding the closet Kenzie was talking about. I opened it, pulling out three flashlights. I took one for myself, testing it, before returning and handing one to KEnzie and Abby.
“Mommy,” Abby looked to her mother, who was still holding her tightly. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, Abby.” She answered. “Jake, we’re going to move to the upstairs.”
Immediately, I answered. “I’ll take point.” I didn’t have any gear on me, but I was still the most heavily armed person this room. The perks of being a witch who fought monsters.
I started towards the stairs on the opposite end of the living room, moving slowly. I focused, stretching out with my senses. I could feel something in the air. It slid across me like a terrible shiver. There was something wrong here. It was no power outage.
“Kenzie…” I whispered as I took my first step on the stairs.
I looked back, and she nodded to me. “I know, I can feel it too. Something’s just…”
“Not right?” I provided for her. “I’m getting the same vibe. Something’s definitely up here.”
As we climbed the stairs, I continued to prod further with my senses. Maybe, just maybe, I could figure out what it is. We reached the top, I looked back to Kenzie. “Where’re we headed?” I asked.
“Office, first door to the left.” She provided.
Abby piped up at that. “But you said I was never supposed to go in there.”
“You aren’t, but now, it’s the safest place in our house, sweetie. And so we’re going there. Jake?”
I nodded, and walked down the hall. I opened up the door to the office, but found anything but an office.
Lights flickered on as I entered, revealing bright, battery-powered lamps. On the back wall, a rack of weapons sat, raging from tactical knives to an actual, honest to God, AK-47, straight from what was once the Soviet Union. Along the other walls were trunks, old brown boxes, and the occasional duffel labeled ‘emergency’.
“Abby,” Kenzie said. “Do you have that crucifix Daddy gave you?”
The little girl was staring at the guns. “This is so awesome.” She declared.
“Agibail Zoe O’Donahue?” Kenzie hissed.
“Um, yes, mom.” Abby reached inside of her shirt, pulling out a little silver cross on a chain.
Kennzie nodded. “Good.” She said, and headed over to the rack of guns. She hefted a military-grade shotgun, then strung a bandolier of shells across her torso. “Abby, I want you to stay here with Uncle Jake. If anything comes through that door besides me, start praying. Can you do that?”
Abby’s head bobbed. “Yea-huh.”
Kenzie bent down, kissing Abby’s forehead. “I love you.”
“Mom.” I heard the little girl whispered. “What’s happening?”
She smiled a little. “Seems some of Mommy’s work followed her home. I’ll take care of it, baby.” She stood, then looked to me. “Nothing gets in here.” She hissed.
I gave a simple nod to her. “They won’t.” It wasn’t a promise. It was a fact. Nothing was going to hurt this little girl. Kenzie headed out, closing the door behind her. I grabbed an automatic off the wall, loading a magazine into it. After doing so, I holstered the gun in a jacket pocket.
“Uncle Jake?” Abby piped up. “How do we know what-” Abby’s voice was cut off by a noise, like it was right next to my ear, even if nothing else was in the room besides the two of us. It was the sound of weeping, of a woman crying mournfully. There was something, however, something terrible wrong.
“Oh, son of a biscuit lover.” I whispered, flipping out my cell phone. I punched in numbers as fast as I could. “Please, please…”
I heard dialtones for what seemed like an eterenity. Finally, a woman’s voice answered.
“Jake?” It was light, bouncing.
“Serena!” I gasped, thanking whatever deity had seen fit to help me out. “I’ve got something here at Kenzie’s house. It’s…I dunno, it’s crying. That’s all I know.”
“I dunno, have you and Abby been playing Metal Gea-”
“Don’t even start!” I warned. “Log onto my computer, do a search for crying in my files, all right? I know there’s something in there.” I waited, but heard only silence. “Serena, Serena?” I checked my phone. The call was dropped. Hell. I tried calling twice more, but I couldn’t get any signal. It must have been whatever this was. A lot of things in the supernatural can screw with electronics real easily. Murphy’s Law in its finest.
I heard the sound of shots blasting from outside the door. Abby clung to me, afraid. Kenzie’s voice roared in a sort of primal rage, and the sound of ripping cloth filled the air. Another pair of blasts rang out, and then silence. The crying continued, mournful and angry. It grated on the edge of my senses, like nails screeching on a chalkboard.
Abby started to whisper, prayers for her mother from what I could tell. I started to reach inside myself, gather energy that I knew I would need. I could feel it, the power of the creature outside. It was powerful, insanely so, worse than anything I’d felt, save for maybe one or two terrible things.
The door burst open, and I reflexively went for the pistol in my pocket. I had it cocked and aimed by the time that I recognized it was Kenzie. “Kenzie?”
“Mommy?” Kenzie was wounded, a rend through the front of her shirt. I rushed to her, checking outside the door as I bent down next to her.
Kenzie coughed up a little. “That thing, Jake, it’s a Walker.” Oh, son of a gun.
There are two kinds of demons in existence. The first was your average demon. Your run of the mill demon lived in the Other Side, the spirit world, and could only enter our world when they were summoned. They made up the majority. Then there were walkers. Walkers were creatures so powerful they walked amongst the Earth, no restrictions.
I grabbed Kenzie’s body, ignoring the ceaseless weeping. I grunted. “Kenzie, what do you eat for breakfast? Freaking bricks?”
Kenzie gave me one of her unamused glares. “Ha ha. Get me over to the freaking boxes. There’s a First Aid kit there somewhere.” Abby had already found it, pulling it out.
Kezie started to apply a bandage her wound.
“Kenzie, how the freaking crap do we kill a Walker?” I asked.
“Jake.” She shot me a look. Right, no cussing in front of the god daughter. “I…I don’t know. Each walker’s got different weaknesses.” She had finished putting the bandage over the stomach wound, and stood gruffly, placing a hand on Abby’s shoulders.
“I tried calling Serena.” I told Kenzie. “Phones went out, though. Think it’d be safe to try and get out of here? Open spaces might be better, get out of the house and head towards someone who can help.”
“Who?” Kenzie asked.
I sighed, thinking of the one person I knew who had fought-and lived through-a walker.
“I think I need to call my mom.”
Kenzie narrowed her gaze. “Your mother? You don’t mention her much.”
“We do the Christmas thing. I’m not the perfect son.” I shrugged. “Come on, I’ll take point. We’ll head to the Cooper, and I’ll take us over there. Woman’s got a place as safe as freaking Cheyenne Mountain.”
I moved out to the door. “Demon, what’s it look like?”
She shook her head. “Didn’t get a good look at it. Humanoid.”
“All right.” I nodded, then headed out. I peered around the frame of the door into the hallway. The entirety of the hall was covered in shadows, and I drew my pistol. A powerful demon that’s nigh-unkillable, my partner’s wounded, and I’m without my gear.
Jeez, I know how to spend a Saturday morning.
“Here, demon, demon, demon…” I murmured.
A voice, sobbing and angry, shouted in my head. Go, witch. Leave me to the child.
I drew on energy, steeling myself. “No way in hell.” I growled. “What do you even want with her?”
The soul of a child. So innocent, so delectable. The voice answered. Behind me, a board creaked on the floor. I spun around, and saw it.
The demon took the shape of a woman, curves present even in the dim shadows. Hair billowed out over her form. She seemedto soak up the light, creating a sinister shadowy figure.
I didn’t even hesitate. With all the energy in my magic I could muster, I thrust out my hand. I roared out. “Go to hell. Tine!” I had spent the last few months refining my fire spell, and now I got to see the product of that work. The air combusted aroud the demon, drowning out that damned crying for just a moment. I felt the rush of wind blow back against me, a solid concussive wave. The fire burned out in a few seconds, but I knew nothing should have survived that.
But, of course, I’d never faced a walker before. As the fires died down, the lone shadowy figure remained. The sobbing, the same as before, continued.
It moved, faster than my eye could comprehend. Streaks of pain ripped across my arm as nails like razors came upon my arm. Another stroke landed on my leg, vicious, uncoordinated. “Hell,” I gasped, raising up my arm to try and defend myself. But the demon was strong, and it tripped through my shirt and found my charms, ripping them off my arm.
I was vulnerable, I knew, as it pushed me to the ground. It could give the killing blow. Leave. It is not your time. The child is all I care about.
“Fat chance, bitch.” I heard Kenzie say from behind the Walker. The rattle of automatic gunfire filled the hallway, shoving bullets into the Walker before it could turn around. And even when it did, I could actually see the shadowy figure move, slowed. Kenzie had wounded the thing. The demon hissed, and made a strike at Kenzie. The two of them struck at the exact same time. Kenzie, with a knife in her right hand, and the shadow, with its long sharp claws. The knife gouged into the shadow, and the demon raked a fresh set of wounds over her stomach. I saw the knife, a nasty military grade sucker, embedded in the demon’s form. It screeched, like a wounded animal, then moved, as preternaturally fast as before, running away into the darkness of the hallway.
I tried standing up, and was able to after a few seconds. “Kenzie?”
“Silver blade.” She panted. My partner was against the wall, clutching a wound. “Where do we go?” She hissed, her voice pained.
“To the one place I know we’ll be safe.”
