When She Was Bad

4

Being in the dark place is like being deaf, dumb, blind, paralyzed, and buried alive. Nothing here. Nothing but yourself and your thoughts. Crazy-making. Unbearable to contemplate. To think too closely about it is to risk becoming an endless scream resounding through the void.

Far easier to give yourself up to the darkness…

(but what about Lily?)

To surrender rather than risk the flames…

(but what about Lily?)

Because Max is so much stronger…

(but is he?)

And if you only let go…

(don’t let go!)

If you give yourself to the darkness…

(again)

You’ll never even hear her screaming…

“I do believe we’ve reached another stalemate, Agent Pender.” Max had dropped Lyssy’s simper; it was a relief to him to think that he’d never have to employ it again.

“Let the girl go and we can settle it the way we did the last time,” said Pender, referring to the shoot-out in the barn at Scorned Ridge three years ago.

“I don’t think so.” When he was amused, Max’s eyebrows tended to peak devilishly, like Jack Nicholson’s. “I seem to be running out of legs.”

“Then leave the girl behind-I give you my word I’ll let you walk.”

“I believe we’ve already established what your word is worth, Agent Pender. Oh, wait-I see where the problem lies! You think I’m abducting the young lady.” He eased his crook-armed hold on the girl’s neck, chucked her cheek affectionately, and swung the muzzle of his gun from her to Pender. “Tell them who you are, darlin’.”

She coughed a few times, pulled down the hood of her sweatshirt and tugged the neck away from her throat, working her jaw and rolling her head like Rodney Dangerfield on speed. “They’re so fucking smart, let them figure it out.”

“Ohmigod-Lilith?” Irene said, rising from her crouched position.

“Fuckin’ A,” replied Lily, executing a mock curtsy and momentarily leaving Maxwell’s head exposed. But Pender was like an old prizefighter: he could see the openings, but his reflexes were no longer fast enough to take advantage of them. C’mon baby, he thought-one more curtsy for Uncle Pen.

Instead she turned her head and whispered over her shoulder to Maxwell.

“Sorry I had to mislead you, son.”

Never before had Lyssy struggled so hard against surrendering himself to the darkness. But it was worth it to realize he was no longer alone. “I’m the one who misled you, Dr. Al. I should have been honest, I should have told you about the voice and the dark place.”

They were in Dr. Al’s office-sort of. No walls, no floor, just an archetypal psychiatrist’s couch and chair suspended in featureless space, surrounded by darkness. Lyssy was lying on his back on the couch; Dr. Al was behind him to his right, just out of his line of sight. “It’s not your fault-you were in an untenable situation.”

“At least that’s better than an un-eleven-able situation.”

Dr. Al chuckled. “What I mean is, we, ah, put you in a situation where you would be punished for telling the truth, but rewarded for hiding it. But that’s all water over the dam. Would you like to tell me why we’re here today, and what you’re hoping to accomplish in today’s session?”

Lyssy felt a twinge of panic-for a moment he couldn’t even remember where here was, much less what he wanted to accomplish. Then it came back to him. “I’m worried about Lily-I’m worried something’s going to happen to her.”

“Something like this?” said Dr. Al, leaning forward in his chair until Lyssy was able to see his face. Or what was left of his face-it had been cut literally to shreds, raked from hairline to jawline with dozens of savage strokes. One eye was gone entirely; the lid of the other had been sliced raggedly away to reveal the eyeball, round as a marble, red-veined around the edges, pulsing in its dark socket.

Lyssy wanted desperately to look away, but he knew somehow that if he did, he would be lost. “Help us, Dr. Al,” he said. “Tell me how to stop him.”

The torn lips parted in a bloody smile, revealing slashed gums and shattered teeth. “If I knew the answer to that,” said the phantom, “would I look like this?”