Forceful Justice (124 page)

“I know who's doing this,” she said, ready for their shocked expressions when they heard what Freja was up to. Elsa knew the dream was no such dream, anymore than Zamir's dream of being bitten by the werewolf was all in his imagination. Her visions were a premonition. “We've got to get to the cottage before it's too late,” she said.

“Why? What did you see?” Humburt asked.

“Freja wants me here so she can take Theo. She's going to steal my appearance, and it's going to make me,” Elsa stopped mid-statement, looking down at her hand, which was already developing liver spots across the back of her knuckles. She ran over to the stream, peering over the running water, and saw the beginning of age spread across her face. “See,” she said to herself, “it's already happening.” Humburt and Augustus looked at her face in close-up, using their fingertips to examine her skin.

“Geez, lady,” Augustus said. “We gotta get you some help.”

“I just knew this would happen,” Elsa said, choking back tears. She had been so strong for Theo, willing to go to the ends of the earth to get him back, but now Freja had beaten her, and there was no way Elsa could fight back. The emotion she blocked away in the back of her mind, unable to immediately process due to her fight to get Theo back, all came flooding through the mental walls she had built to keep them at bay. She collapsed on the ground, sobbing. She cried not for Theo now, nor for the loss of her one great love, but for herself--the one person too weak to right her wrongs. She wept for all the tiny failures leading up to this major one and for her inability to understand where she went wrong, what careless blunder she made to fall into this situation. The shifter pack crowded around her body heap, rubbing her back in consolation for her grief.

“It'll be okay, miss,” Niklas said. “We're here for you. Just tell us what happened.” When she could finally stifle her sobs long enough to speak, she told them all about her dream.

“That sounds like a mess of a story,” Kirbleitz said, trying to empathize with her. “The question is: how are we going to get you back to the towns?”

“Yeah, how can we help?” Humburt asked.

They talked over it and came to the conclusion they should see what the Prophecy actually said and maybe then they would be able to leave the forest. Maybe then they could find some truth there, with Zamir's help, who had been watching them all along, his fierce green eyes glowing through an evil haze. Elsa couldn't figure out whether he enjoyed her predicament, or if he simply did not know how to relate. Her perception of him oscillated from outright horror at the monster in her midst and burning curiosity about what was going on inside his head.

They all agreed it was best that they somehow or someway got Elsa out of the forest before it was too late. Time was passing faster on the outside, and Freja knew this. If Elsa waited too long, she would be trapped in the forest forever, never getting a chance to see Theo again. The boys told her they would do everything they could to get her out, but first they needed some assurance they would have a fighting chance. Zamir reminded them they would suffer in the cottage, only able to stand its presence for so long, but they would know heavy doses of the truth while there, no matter how upsetting or painful. So they continued on.

CHAPTER 44

As they progressed through the forest, toward its center, Zamir and Elsa found themselves increasingly attracted to one another. Elsa could feel her soul pull away ever so slightly from Theo--probably because she lost some hope of ever returning to him when Freja's snake bit her--and warmed to Zamir's chaotic and wild presence. There was something so dark and devilish about him, truly evil, she was aware of without knowing why. Her image of him had morphed from a Satan-in-the forest when Lili first mentioned him, into something more sanguine and positive when he talked to her at the forest's edge, saving her, and again into something more sinister, because his attitude became more violent as they approached the cottage at the center of the woods. There was some connection he had to the natural world, and the vibrations of the woods spoke through his eyes and physical being. Zamir was nature's instrument. The feelings Elsa developed for Zamir fell outside the range of normal human experience, approaching something Biblical, a strange mix of heaven and hell.

As the entire group approached the cottage, they noticed the landscape change. The area around them went from claustrophobic lines of trees, smashing Elsa, Zamir, Augustus, Humburt, Niklas, and Kirbleitz into rubbing shoulders, the area largely filled with trees and foliage, to a much harder and rockier surface. Eventually they noticed the rocks were no mere rocks, but crystals, glowing with the spirit of nature, pulsating and throbbing red like blood flowing through a giant heart. The vision was really quite beautiful, despite all the dead animals and dying vegetation on the outskirts of the forest.

“It's so beautiful,” Niklas said, his eyes roaming from one end of his field of view to the other. The six of them continued walking in silence, except for the occasional sound of Niklas' footsteps tripping over themselves, or Kirbleitz's cloth pack bouncing around his chest. Zamir was first in their walking path, Elsa was second. As she watched him from behind, at his beautiful and massive frame, his wide shoulders and massive arms, his black hair, she found herself entranced by his character, realizing she was standing in the presence of a once great man, overcome by some evil which had overtaken him, in much the same way Elsa herself had let a shameful passion enter her heart upon meeting Theo. Elsa surmised, for a brief span of time, however, just how valid that sentiment was. She speculated about those blasphemous thoughts which continued to rear their head, even though she tried to banish them from her mind forever. Her entire history in the village, her whole innocent life before she had met Theo, before her tiny village found Lili that fateful night at the forest's edge, came rushing back to her, along with her old identity. For a split second, she saw once again, all that she had lost, and by contrast, the extent of the corruption which had overtaken her soul. The despair and sadness which came with this realization frightened her, as she remembered just exactly where she was, in the Forbidden Forest, the land of lost souls, with no hope of redemption. Her mistake, wherever it originated, left her permanently broken, with no recourse or reparation of her misdeeds. Oh, what magic it would be to return to innocence, a time where she could actually be a good person, pure and truthful, instead of snake-like, devilish, and evil! The possibility angered her.

She tried to imagine Zamir's wife, their love-making, heated and passionate, when he was a great general, long before his mighty fall. She could see herself as his wife, as much as Satan's children could marry their lovers, lying down next to him in bed, both of them naked, as he crawled onto her body, their flesh pressed together as one. She imagined the hair on his legs tickling her body, and the smoothness of his back and chest. The idea electrified her body, even though she knew it was wrong to think about such things. Even so, Zamir's story broke her heart, for someone so strong and yet so noble to be dragged into an eternity of destructive habits.

Their journey continued on, through the sparse trees and bare stones, as they passed various vegetation and animals Elsa had never seen. Up ahead, in the multi-colored light, she could see what appeared to be a fish floating through the air, yellow and green in color. But it was a bird, bloated from the sides, with tiny wings like a fly, that then took one look at her, through human-looking eyes, and then buzzed back into other parts of the forest. Elsa didn't know whether to laugh or scream. Eventually, the dirt under their feet became more and more damp, then wet, then soggy. Elsa thought the ground was slippery, but looked down at giant earthworms slipping between her toes.

“Oh God!” she said, when Zamir grabbed her arm and put his index finger to his lips. He pointed ahead at a quiet mound of land one hundred yards away from the them, surrounded by an oily, thick moat.

“The Cottage,” she whispered, worried that there might be someone waiting from them in the place. Elsa could see, at the center of a lake, a single wind mill shuttering back and forth in the oppressive darkness.

“It's hard to breathe,” Niklas said, and Zamir ushered him to lower his voice.

“I can't either,” Humburt said, putting his hand to his throat. Something sat heavy on all their chests, and the rest of the group understood what Humburt and Niklas meant. Zamir ripped off a piece of his pants, tearing the cloth into five different pieces. He motioned to them to put the cloth near their mouths, to filter the air better. Elsa wondered why Zamir could not just talk to them this with his mind. He must be under stress, she thought. Zamir grabbed Elsa's hand, leading her to a boat at the edge of the lake. Looking out upon the water, the Cottage stood at the center, watching them, and Elsa, along with the others, received from that Cottage an insufferable gloom which pervaded their spirits. Insufferable it was, the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible, in order to find relief. The stone walls of the place were overgrown with a slimy green moss, mixed with brown decay, and rotten logs. Elsa looked upon the scene before her: the vacant eye-like windows, the rank sedges, and the pale trunks of decayed wood, with an utter depression of soul which was comparable to no earthly sensation more properly than to the moment directly before a dreamer wakes from her nightmare. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart, an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into something more sublime or beautiful. Death, the Cottage told her. Darkness, Chaos, Evil.

As Elsa and Zamir stepped into the boat, casting concerned goodbyes to the other four men, she wondered what exactly she would find in the Cottage that might help her leave the forest, and what, if anything, she could do about her continuing transformation into Freja's physical self.

Zamir tapped Elsa on the shoulder to get her attention, as she had been focused on the Cottage in the distance, mesmerized and terrified at their impending journey into the heart of true evil. She looked back, and he whispered, “Take the oar,” then handed a rotten oar to her. She began rowing along through the water, but then realized the water was actually black tar, and upon breaking the surface of the substance, a foul stench like no other emanated from the hole. Elsa wretched over the side of the boat, but Zamir urged her forward.

As the creaky boat continued through the tar, moving at a glacial pace, Elsa noticed a change overcome Zamir, his green eyes flashing possessed anger in quick succession, strobe-like and haunting. Something was wrong, but he made her hurry. She rowed faster and faster, and the closer they got to the Cottage, the boat began to shake. She looked back at Zamir, who held his hands over his temples, trembling with the struggle. There was something fighting to get out of Zamir, and Elsa quickly realized it was his shifter self. Remembering the sheer terror of wolf form, Elsa slid over the side of the boat, jumping into the vile tar, knee-deep, and made her way to the edge of the lake before it was too late.

“Just hang on,” she whispered to him, afraid of what would happen should she speak out loud. Zamir vocalized a low-frequency, painful groan, just as Elsa reached the door to the Cottage. Fear lay on both sides of the moment for Elsa. Should she stay, Zamir would almost certainly destroy her. But looking at the Cottage which awaited her, she almost certainly ran to her doom as well. Choosing mere potential destruction over almost certain death, she jumped out of the boat and ran to the front door of the Cottage. It was the strangest thing, Elsa thought, that despite the immediate danger she was in, that she would think to ring the doorbell, and if that didn't work, to throw a stone through the window of the place. Looking at the boarded up window, she was overcome with a strong sense of déjà vu. It sort of reminded her of Freja's cottage.

Elsa grabbed the doorknob just as Zamir transformed into his shifter self, black hair bristling, teeth bared, two thousand pounds barreling in her direction. She slammed the door behind her with a loud thud. Scraping and scratching at the walls on the outside vibrated throughout the house. Elsa took a breath, looked around the cottage to see an empty place, furniture overturned, and dust swirling around in the shaft of moonlight shining down through the window. Her heart hummed along as she started her search through the cottage for something, anything, that would give her a clue to get out of the damn Forest.

“Tell me, dammit,” she said out loud, to anyone or anything that would listen, “What do you want? What do you want me to do? Just make it clear.”

There was a moment of silence, the calm before the storm, then an explosive bang shook the entire cottage on its frame. Zamir was throwing his entire body against the wall, attempting to get through the door no matter what, to eat Elsa. Images of her own demise raced through Elsa's mind, of Zamir tearing her innards from her slain stomach, blood everywhere, with his teeth. She saw him lick his lips at the taste of her flesh, looking down at her with that curious, cold stare that had at this point become familiar.

As Zamir continued growing stronger and fiercer, she looked around the cottage for some clue as to what the Prophecy of Asif meant for her, so she could get out of the woods before the transformation into Freja was complete. She worried whether Theo would remember her at all. Perhaps they would already be married, with kids, grandkids even. So she continued looking, visions of their goings-on flash before her mind intermittently, destroying her capacity to think clearly. The cottage stifled her, like she was drowning in open air.