It’s been two months since I first wore the Heart Mask, and I’ve made so much progress. After gazing into the Nightlands for the first time and being whisked away by Janie and Martin, I had fallen into a deep sleep fueled by physical and mental exhaustion. I awoke close to two hours later as we were coming to a stop at the Twins’ private home. It was a modern mansion—all sharp angles and stone, it had large windows that showed nothing of the interior due to some form of glass treatment. I would learn that from the inside the windows offered a clear and bright view of the woods that surrounded the gated home. But as I woke up in the glare of security lights at our approach, my first thought was that it looked like Frank Lloyd Wright had built a house for the NSA.
But if the outside seemed austere and intimidating, the inside was the opposite. It was warm and inviting, with cozy rooms filled with comfortable furniture. In the weeks that followed, I found that Janie and Martin were much the same. They always stood apart because of their strange beauty and the sheer charisma and presence that seemed to flow from them without any discernable effort, but after getting to know them, it became clear that they were also very nice, very real people.
They invited us to stay with them, though it was clear that Darcy’s invitation was contingent on me agreeing to stay. There was no danger of a refusal of the offer from either of us. I was desperate to learn more and get back to the Nightlands, and Darcy was just desperate. That might seem uncharitable, but my view of her, of everything, was so different now than it had been before. She seemed little more than a hungry-eyed groupie now, and with every passing day it seemed clearer that I belonged with the Twins and not her.
For one thing, apparently my experience in the Nightlands had been rare. Everyone who did the Heart Mask ritual properly saw something, but only a handful had seen as much as I had and even fewer had ever heard anything. When I talked to Darcy about her experience, she described floating across some kind of manicured lawn toward what looked like an estate house made of dark red marble. She said at first she was really excited, but then she saw what looked like a body laying on the steps of the red house like a discarded doll.
It was a young woman, or what was left of her. The left side of her body was largely gone, as though it had been ripped away like tearing a paper towel in two. Darcy said that it was strange, because on the one hand she was scared and grossed out, but she felt like she had no body to experience the physical effects of those feelings. It made her feel even more disconnected and dissatisfied, but it also allowed her to tolerate studying the body in greater detail.
She didn’t see moonlight when she went, but she was able to see even though she could tell the sky was dark. Floating closer to the body, she couldn’t tell for sure how long it had been there, but its skin looked strange and cracked. It was wearing the scraps of a shirt, and on the remnants of cloth she saw what looked like a small brass pin. It was a lightning bolt with three stars around it, and in the center it said, “Johnny Quick, Master Magician.” She tried to reach out towards the body, but then she was being pulled back to the third floor of that abandoned office building.
I found her story very interesting, but after a couple of times questioning her for further details, I was done with her. We traveled with the Twins to several more Heart Mask rituals, and I saw more wonderous things. Every time it was some new part of the Nightlands, and each time I was able to see and hear more, to stay in that world for longer.
Except that was the problem. I wasn’t really in that world. Not yet.
Doing the Heart Mask ritual reminded me of going on a tourist submarine ride once as a kid. The “submarine” was really just a glass-bottomed boat that had side windows on its lowest deck. You were sitting maybe fifteen feet under the water, catching far off glimpses of fish as you passed by a few patches of coral and rock. Many of the children and adults on the ship seemed delighted by this, but I never really understood why. It was more of a tease than anything else. Here’s this beautiful and mysterious world that you can peek at, but not really be a part of.
Just like the “submarine”, the Heart Mask lets you see a few things, but only for short periods of time. And you’re never really over there. You can’t feel the winds cutting through the strange forest I saw on a dimly lit orange afternoon. You can’t smell the grass of the plains that were punctuated by several large columns of yellow stone that wound impossibly together and up out of sight. You can’t touch the deep red wood of the enormous tree that rose out of the hard rock of a green mountain, stretching its branches to the sky like a defiant king proclaiming the subjugation of all it surveyed.
As for me, I have no interest in subjugating or controlling anything except myself. I want to be master of my existence, and I want that existence to continue in the Nightlands, not in this drab world I’m forced back into after every Heart Mask. Martin and Janie have tried to console me, saying they understand my frustration, but that there is much that can be gleaned from just observing, and it is far safer. But I don’t want to be consoled. I want to find a way through, and I think I know what that way is.
If I’m honest, the idea has been in the back of my mind for some time. That’s why I haven’t completely ignored Darcy for the last three weeks. I string her along by showing her some level of affection, and far more importantly, giving her some level of access to myself and the Twins. I don’t know if Martin and Janie would have the heart to send her packing regardless, but I could get Darcy to leave if I wanted to. She’s of much greater use here with me.
I don’t like Josh. I don’t trust him. I admit, just like Janie, I was initially blinded by finding someone else with such a talent for viewing through the Heart Mask. And her and Josh have become close, which was even more valuable. I think Janie loves our life, and our status in these occult circles gives us a great many benefits, but it is also a very lonely life. It’s hard to maintain friendships or relationships when everyone you meet is either a sycophant or a usurper. I try to be a good brother and friend for her, but she needs more than just me.
And at first, Josh made her laugh. She seemed happier than I had seen her in years, and taking on the role of guiding another talented viewer really suited her. But Josh…he is never satisfied. I know that hungry look. Me and Janie had it a lot in those early years after the funeral home and the first kill. We had a new instinct within us, and it was strong.
Between the two of us, we developed the Heart Mask technique, and we also figured out that human bodies worked best for a variety of reasons. We made contacts with people in various parts of the world that could supply us regularly with fresh cadavers that wouldn’t be missed. And over the years since, we have seen and learned a great deal. But for a short time after we perfected the Heart Mask, we struggled with the drive to do more. To go to the Nightlands physically, to do the terrible things required to make that happen. We learned to control and suppress that urge, and that’s what I wanted for Josh too.
But I’m losing hope that it’s possible. He is getting more obsessed and strange. He keeps to himself much of the time, and I can tell Janie’s mood has taken a downturn as she is neglected by her newfound friend. Worse, I fear he may be abusing or at least warping that poor girl Darcy. I barely see her at all anymore, and when I do, she’s like a ghost passing through the house. Her face is pale and gaunt, and her eyes look haunted. When I try to ask what’s wrong, she just smiles politely and says everything is just fine. She thanks me again for our hospitality and drifts on by. Poor girl.
I’ve grown paranoid about Josh’s intentions, and that had led me to take certain precautions. I’ve begun checking our refrigerated blood supply on a daily basis. We periodically ship some out to trusted colleagues and replenish the supply from our bodies as needed, but there is always an accurate log kept. That log has always matched the contents of the refrigerator until today.
Heart Mask rituals in this house are strictly forbidden without mine or Janie’s supervision. And I know we have no cadavers on the property at the moment. I strongly suspect Josh stole the blood, and I fear I know what he intends to use it for. I pray that I’m wrong.
I can feel the membrane between the two worlds responding to my presence. It is not parting for me, but as I push against it, it does give. The viewing glass has become a plastic film, and if I can find the right spot and push hard enough, I may be able to poke a hole big enough to crawl through.
I’m back on the beach for the first time since my first time, and while I don’t see that wonderfully familiar creature yet, I can hear its song. It’s calling to me, asking me to join it. I will find a way through.
But then I’m being pulled away. I’m back in the bright lights and stale air of my room at the Twins’ house, Martin’s face a mask of rage and disgust as he shoves me away from Darcy’s body. I say body, because as I turn to look at her, I see that the last stages of shock have set in and she’s finally dying. I let out a scream of despair, but then Martin is on me again, shoving me back into the wall.
“Why did you do it? Why did you have to go and do it?”
Martin’s questions confused me. It was obvious why I did it. I know that wearing the Heart Mask with a corpse is enough to see and hear, but not to go through. If I want to actually go to the Nightlands, the skin of my face needs to feel the feathertouch of a still-beating heart. I ask him, genuinely curious, if he didn’t understand that. That if him and Janie hadn’t figured that out, I could help show them the way.
His expression is still angry, but his eyes are sad when he replies. ”Oh, we know. And we don’t do it. We’re not murderers. Aside from a few animals when we were kids, before we knew how to control the urges, we haven’t ever hurt anyone.”
I frowned at him. “Bullshit. I don’t believe you. And anyway, what does it matter? The Nightlands is what matters, not this shit hole. Not these stupid people living their drab, stupid lives. What’re we’re doing is important.”
His gaze grew hot again and I took a step back. “What we’re doing? No. What Janie and I are doing is exploring the Nightlands in a safe and responsible manner with no one being hurt. What you’re doing,” he pointed back at the gaping hole in Darcy’s chest, “is brutal and sick. It’s murder.” He sighed. “And I get it. These urges, they are a part of you now. It doesn’t happen with most people, but those of us that are more sensitive, that can hear the songs of that place…well, it changes you.”
He reached out a hand and put it on my shoulder. “We’ve learned to control how it affects us, and we were trying to do that for you too. Why couldn’t you just…” His words turned to a sharp gasp of pain as I stuck the knife deep into his stomach. He fell backwards onto the floor, and I took a moment to lock the door before returning to him.
I’m taking a risk in writing this note, as I don’t want Martin to die before I can use him to cross over. I don’t want to have to find you and use you instead. You have been kind to me, Janie, and I felt like you deserved to know what happened and why. I care for you and Martin, but I have to go to the Nightlands, and I can’t imagine a better chance than through the still-living body of one of the famous Twins.
Try to understand, and join me if you can find a way.
When I came home that afternoon, the house seemed empty. I guess in a way it was. When I couldn’t get anyone to come to Josh’s door, I unlocked it and went in. Part of me died at what I saw. Darcy’s body lay still and bloody across the bed. And Martin, my sweet Martin, was laying tied to the legs of a large wardrobe in the corner, his body having been opened up from the top of his chest down to his navel. I could tell by the blood smears on the floor that he had been hurt somewhere else in the room and had crawled around before being dragged and tied to the wardrobe. I collapsed next to his body, somehow unable to produce a tear or even a sound at first. I took his large bloody hand in both of mine and kissed it.
“I’m sorry,” I finally managed. “I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t have let him stay. I know you were worried about it…about him. You tried not to let on because having him around made me happy, but I knew. Oh God, I knew and I ignored it because I was selfish and I thought I could control him. Keep him from going too far.” My vision of Martin was wavering with tears now, and I hugged his neck tightly, careful not to get too near the chest cavity itself.
I knew where Josh had gone, and I wasn’t sure that there was any way back, much less through Martin’s now dead body. But I wasn’t taking any chances. Standing up and wiping my face, I found my phone and called our special cleaning service to retrieve and cremate both bodies. I would make sure they both had fitting burials and tributes, but that would come in the days ahead. For now, there was another call I needed to make.
I went to my bedroom and looked through the top drawer of my dresser until I found the card. It was a plain card with no graphics or flashy catchphrase. Instead, it simply read “Jager Solutions, Inc.” and gave a phone number. I found myself vacillating on whether to actually call or not. I had no idea if I would just be making things worse.
But no, I needed to do the responsible thing, the right thing, not the easy thing. That’s what Martin had always said, and it was true. I didn’t know what Josh going to the Nightlands meant, but I could feel that it was very important and bigger than just me or the Heart Mask ritual. Wiping my eyes again, I dialed the number.
“Hello? Um, Jager Solutions. How can I help you?”
I felt unease at the uncertainty I heard in whoever I was talking to. I’d have wondered if I even had the right number if he hadn’t said the name. Still, I needed to give them a chance.
“I need to speak to Dr. Barron, please. It’s an emergency.”
A pause, and then. “He’s not in right now. I’m his grandson, Jason. What’s the problem?”
I stared out of my window into the deepening twilight, and I could see a ghost of my own reflection looking back at me. It reminded me of when we were young, Martin and I would spend hours playing with mirrors and trying to make each other laugh. My best reflection, my sweet brother and friend, was gone. And I felt so terribly alone.
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I forced myself to respond. “It’s better if we talk in person. Tell your grandfather that it’s the girl he met in Seattle a few years back. At the old tire plant. He’ll remember. And tell him that I’m ready to tell him what I know about the Nightlands. ”
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Credits
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