Part One

Part Two

Part Three

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Rohan’s expression didn’t change when he read the message, save for grim lines deepening around his mouth. His dark eyes flashed at the photo of Emma, and in a voice that was eerily calm he asked, “I’m sure you know the way to Blackwater Pond?”

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I did. It was a random fishing hole a few miles outside of town. I remembered Mr. B talking about it, he had a cabin there. Rohan nodded and said, “okay, let’s go.”

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“Should we call the police?” I asked timidly as we got into his car and he typed in the coordinates.

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“There seem to be some odd connections between the sheriff and some citizens here, does there not?” Though he wasn’t looking at me, all I could do was nod and look at my hands.

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“Dylan” Rohan’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “I had hoped to have more time to talk to you, but time is of the essence. I need you to tell me exactly what transpired in June. I cannot explain right now, but everything in the next hour hinges on your honesty. Tell me everything.”

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I paused for a long moment and then took a deep breath. Then the dam broke. Words mingled with sobs came rushing out of me. I talked about the posts I had seen online, Mr.B pinning Rajat to the ground. The fear in his eyes. I told him about the sheriff and Mr. B. How I thought Mr. B and his friends might have done something bad to Rajat, but I was too scared to speak up. I talked about how afterwards each day made it seem harder and harder to justify coming forward.

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Then I talked about the package. The muddy footprints, and Stu Corbett.

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Rohan listened quietly, asking few questions. He was the first grown up I’d ever really talked to like this. Usually they just pretend to listen so they can tell you what they think, but not him, he listened.

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When I finally finished and sat quietly in the passenger seat, he glanced at me with a reassuring smile.

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“Feel better?”

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“I would, but all I can think about now is Emma.” I didn’t think I had any tears left, but more crept into my eyes.

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“She‘ll be fine.” He said with quiet confidence.

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“How can you know that?” But even as I asked, I believed him. His strange calmness seemed to be stealing over me.

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He flashed me another smile and said cryptically, “I’ve found in situations like these, it helps to have friends in high and low places.”

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I didn’t have time to let that sink in, because he announced “we’re here.”

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Mr. B was waiting for us by the front of his truck with his rifle in hand when we pulled into his lane. I didn’t see Mr. Marshall at first, but then spied him pulling Emma out of the truck. Though I was powerless against them, my hands clenched at my sides when I saw her bound hands and wild eyes.

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Rohan placed himself between me and Mr. B and began speaking calmly to him. His serenity didn’t touch Mr. B though, it only seemed to make him madder. He started screaming about terrorists and ISIS, plus all sorts of racist filth at Rohan.

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“As I have said, I am only trying to locate the whereabouts of Rajat Seth. His family is very worried.” Rohan kept saying calmly.

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It was then I noticed the pond. Churning water and bubbles approached the shore as Mr. B kept screaming at Rohan and Mr. Marshall held tight to Emma.

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Rohan noticed too and I saw him subtly shift his stance so he now stood between me and the water. Mr. B seemed to see me for the first time, and began to scream at me too. Calling me a coward and a traitor, telling me I never belonged in our neighborhood. My first instinct was to turtle up. But I could tell Rohan wanted to keep him talking. So I did something I never thought possible of myself.

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“I’m the coward?” I yelled loudly, surprising even myself. “I forgot how brave you were in June, what was it again? Three plus a roll of duct tape on one?”

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Silence floated across the lawn for a moment before I saw Mr.B’s hand tighten on the gun and I heard Mr. Marshall chuckle, “you just signed your death warrant son.”

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Mr. B lost his mind at that point. Screaming about how he’d kill every invader that set foot in his town, that the mouthy little shit in the van deserved what he got, that our country had gone to hell. To be honest, I wasn’t focused on any of it. I was focused on the water behind him.

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A slim, dark figure had erupted from the pond and was limping toward the men facing us. Charred and bloated, it was still the unmistakable face that had been seared into my mind since June. Rajat Seth dragged himself forward purposefully toward the two men in front of him.

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Mr. Marshall was so intent on the show Mr. B was putting on, that he didn’t notice until Rajat was almost on top of him. Emma must have been waiting for a change in grip, because as soon as Rajat grabbed hold of Mr. Marshall, Emma ripped free and began sprinting toward me.

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Mr. B turned and checked Emma as she ran past, and sent her sprawling headfirst into the front of the truck. She lay still, knocked out cold.

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I started to run to her, but Rohan stopped me, his eyes still locked on the creature in front of us. He kept muttering something under his breath. My knees buckled as the creature that was Rajat Seth ripped Mr. Marshall’s head right off his body with no more effort than twisting the top off a soda.

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Mr. B was screaming again, but in terror this time. He seemed to remember at the last minute that he had a gun, and started firing. Rajat kept coming, and at last Mr. B threw down his gun and dove for his truck. He managed to get the door shut, but it was promptly ripped off its hinges. I shut my eyes as blood sprayed inside the truck and Mr.B’s screams cut off abruptly.

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The silence that followed seemed more ominous than the shrieks that had filled the air. Silence, but for Rohan’s quiet muttering. I stupidly opened my eyes, expecting the creature to be gone. Maybe expecting to wake up. Instead it stood before us, with its dull milky eyes staring right at me.

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I shrank further behind Rohan as his chanting intensified. The creature began to come toward us. It seemed to be fighting him, chittering and screeching. Finally Rohan said forcefully,

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“Enough, Bagdana, he feels guilt for his cowardice, nothing more. Begone.”

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The creature paused for a moment, swaying in the wind. Then slowly, its mouth began to gape open. I tasted my lunch as a grey, scrawny hand climbed up from inside Rajat’s throat. A skeletal humanoid figure pulled itself out of Rajat’s impossibly wide mouth, and threw his body on the ground like an ill-fitting coat. It hissed at Rohan, and turned toward the pond. It glanced back once or twice at me hungrily, but disappeared into the murky depths as instructed.

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Rohan let out a breath I didn’t know he was holding and walked briskly to Emma. I stood frozen, not trusting the suspiciously calm water.

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“Just a knock on the head.” Called Rohan as he assessed Emma. He picked her up gently and placed her in the back of his sedan.

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“Coming?” He asked. I blinked and opened my mouth to speak. Rohan held up a hand.

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“Questions are for the car. Time to go.”

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We drove for a few moments in silence, then Rohan interjected as I began to speak.

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“I can’t tell you everything Dylan, so I’m going to ask that you consider your questions carefully.”

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“What the hell was that thing?” I blurted out immediately.

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“What you saw first were the murdered remains of Rajat Seth. The creature inside was an associate of mine, the Jewish demon Bagdana.”

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“Why did it attack Mr. B and Mr. Marshall? Why did it try to get at me? Did it kill Mr. Corbett?” The questions tumbled over my lips and Rohan closed his eyes and groaned, looking sheepish.

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“Well, I have a small apology to make. Bagdana was here at my request. Mr. Seth’s family were desperate for answers, by whatever means necessary. And willing to pay a very dear price. I called upon him to seek out those with guilt in their hearts relating to Mr. Seth’s fate. It’s very tricky to talk to demons, even one as forgiving as Bagdana. Your guilt also caught you in his trap as well. I hope that you can find it within your heart to forgive me for what you’ve gone through” He seemed so sincere that I had to duck my head and mutter “s’okay.”

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“Mr. B didn’t seem very guilty.” I remarked suddenly.

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“Guilt is guilt Dylan. No matter how many layers of justification you wrap around something, at the core is still the raw guilt. That’s what Bagdana is so good at sniffing out.”

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“Are you Jewish? How do you know how to call B-Bagdana?” I whispered, surveying the roadside, half expecting to see the humanoid creature skittering toward me again.

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Rohan smiled, “No, I’m not Jewish, but I spent many years studying demons and other entities. As my path in life has shifted, I find it helpful to call upon them occasionally.”

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I studied the road for a moment, unsure of how to word the thoughts floating around in my head.

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“You said it was my cowardice that I felt guilty for. Do you think I’m a coward?” I examined a scuff in my shoe as I asked the question, dreading the answer.

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Silence stretched on in the car as I waited, and I felt my stomach roll over as Rohan pulled the car over to the side of the road. I looked up, and was met again with his kind smile.

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“Dylan, I need you to understand that it doesn’t matter what I think. I could tell you a hundred times that you did the best that you could, and you wouldn’t believe me, unless you came to believe it yourself.” I nodded and felt my eyes fill with more tears. He continued.

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“You were faced with something very intense at a young age. If I can offer some advice, it may only be that you are not so quick to discount your feelings in the future. Had you listened to your shame, guilt or fear earlier, then you may not have ended up in this situation.”

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We sat in silence for another moment. Rohan pulled the car back onto the road and something else occurred to me.

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“I have another question.”

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He smiled and waited.

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“What was in the box?”

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He chuckled and asked conspiratorially, “Are you sure you want to know?”

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I nodded eagerly.

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“Absolutely nothing.”

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“Oh.”

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“Anything else?”

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“Yes. What price did Rajat’s family pay?”

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Rohan sighed, “that, I cannot disclose. Just pray you never need to pay it.”

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We drove the rest of the way home in silence.

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As he turned into my neighborhood I suddenly had a thought.

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“What about everything back at the lake? The bodies? Our prints may be on something. What should I say? What should I tell my parents?”

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Rohan said softly, “I can assure you that those details have been taken care of, this time. But in the future Dylan, I implore you, when you see something unjust, say something. It may be the more difficult conversation at the moment, but I promise every time that it happens, you'll become stronger for it.”

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He was right, things were taken care of. When we got home, I put Emma on the couch. She woke up, without a scratch on her, remembering nothing. A few days later Mr. B and Mr. Marshall’s bodies were found by Blackwater Pond. I don’t know the details of how they were found, but the police chalked it up to a murder-suicide. I finally got the courage to tell my parents about that day in June, and together we talked to the police. They dragged the pond and found Rajat’s body. I didn’t feel proud of myself, but I felt better. I wanted to tell Rohan that I did it, but he’d made me give his card back, and his number disappeared from my phone.

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Since then, I’ve tried my best to live by his advice. I didn’t have many friends before, but I found that speaking up for what I thought was right gained me a few. Good people, too. I don’t always make the right choice (who does?) but I’m getting better at living in a way that makes myself proud. I have good motivation too - whenever I slip, whenever I want to turtle back up again, I just remember there are people like Rohan. People who can talk to the things that live in the dark places. I remember what lurks beneath the surface at places like Blackwater Pond. And how they treat guilty cowards like Mr. B and his friends.

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X.