She Walks in Shadows(34)

“Let us rejoice in the true story of one called Narcissus, whose will was stronger than any alchemy,” she read aloud, after Uncle Ephraim requested she read from the first chapter. After that first line, it became a story — one she vaguely remembered from school, about a beautiful boy who became a flower and the nymph who loved him until she became only an echo.

“I, Anacharis, went to that glen, where the first narcissus sprouted. There I found Echo, who told me his final words. These were they ….”

The language was strange to her. As Veronica mumbled her way through the stanzas, her vision began to blur. At first, she thought it was just the warmth of the room — she was sweating through her warmups — but then her eyes focused and saw only blackness.

She was somewhere that was nowhere, standing at the edge of something that was nothing. Inside the nothing was more nothing, but a denser nothing that writhed — and laughed.

“Asenath,” she whispered, horrified. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the abyss. Her cousin hadn’t been lying! Did that mean she had read this book? Seen the sights it offered? Horrified, Veronica regretted all the cruel things she had said to Asenath, all the comments she’d made behind her cousin’s back. It was no wonder the girl had turned away from God — they said He was all-powerful, but Veronica couldn’t believe He had ever been here, at the edge of wherever she was. She wept, knowing He was less than she had believed, if He existed at all.

Asenath said she had turned away, backed away — Veronica needed to find the will to do the same. But try as she might, she could not tear her eyes from the sight. She felt her foot move. It was no longer her foot. She took a step forward, not back. The laughter became louder, and when she went over the edge, it consumed her.



When Veronica awoke, she felt sore and nauseated. She groaned, dry-mouthed and cold, and realized she lying was on the floor.

“You’re awake.” A woman spoke to her. Veronica opened her eyes, hoping Asenath had come home. But it wasn’t Asenath.

It was her. Veronica Waite was standing there in her black-and-green skirt and Miskatonic warmup jacket, staring at her.

“What?” she mumbled, not in her own voice but Uncle Ephraim’s.

“You’re weaker than your cousin,” she said, or rather, someone said with her voice, as she helped herself up and into a chair. “Asenath resisted all my arts. I couldn’t take her body. She wouldn’t let me, even though I raised it, fed it, clothed it, for seventeen long years! It was mine. The little thief stole it and after she saw what I was about, she made it nearly impossible for me to try again with someone else. But I managed to hide the book, just in case. Good thing you came along, my little niece, or I might have been trapped in that awful body for the rest of my days.”

“Uncle?” Veronica was so confused; it was so difficult to do anything, even speak. Her jaws were made of lead. “How ….”

“Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to know,” he said coolly, out of her own lips. “Thank you, Veronica. You always were such a sweetheart.”

The sound of a key in the lock silenced them. Asenath came through the front door, looking sheepish. The smell of food wafted into the living room.

“Sorry I took off like — oh, hi Veronica,” said Asenath. She was carrying takeout from somewhere in her arms. “Ms. V said you took Dad home for me … thanks.”

“No worries,” said Veronica brightly, as Veronica watched in mute horror. “It was the least I could do. I’ve been such a bitch. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course,” said Asenath instantly. “Veronica … I’m so sorry I’ve been making trouble for you at school. But you have to understand ….”

“You don’t owe me any explanations,” said Veronica warmly. “I’m just glad we’re friends again.

“I brought home dinner. Can you stay?”

“No,” said Veronica. “Mommy and Daddy want me home, I’m sure. Maybe next week?”

“Sounds good,” said Asenath. “Hey — this was really cool of you. Dad and I … after his … his stroke, he ….”

“It’s okay.” Veronica leaned in and hugged Asenath tightly. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” said Asenath. “Tomorrow.”

Veronica tossed her hair and strode out of the house, waving once before walking down the street toward her home. Veronica watched her go, barely able to make her mouth move.

“Thief,” she muttered, hoping Asenath would understand.

“Shut up, Dad,” said Asenath, throwing dinner on the table. “You’ve already lost TV privileges with that little display you put on at practice today. Don’t make it worse for yourself.” She crossed her arms. “You know damn well what I’m capable of.”

“Stolen ….” Veronica tried to swallow the spit pooling in her mouth, but just dribbled all over herself.

“No more cheer practice for you,” said Asenath. “And if you keep that up, I’ll tell our home care worker you’re just too much for a teenage girl to manage — understand? Ugh, stop crying.” She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “You and I both know you brought this on yourself.”