II. Haunted Misteries.

Vanilla and Rowie made their way to a local tavern and storehouse near the impenetrable swamps where the burned house stood. She needed more information about the accident, but her self-hated introversion kept her away from inquiring the folks around.

She stayed with Rowie outside the wooden construction of triangular roofs and log pillars, drinking her favorite cola soda and sitting on a hale bale, thinking about the incident with her bullies.

Her head still hurt. The chirring sound coming from the sawmill at the other side of the road wasn't helping her feel any better.

After a while of observing the folks passing by on the grounded way and getting repelling stares from strangers, she heard two old, shawled women gossiping about what she was curious about.

"I always told Ionut that those periapts he found in the swamps would never bring him any good."

"That's why I never let my grandchildren bring anything they find on the streets. Rubbish should be disposed of where it belongs."

Filled with curiosity, Vanilla addressed them. They got surprised for a bit when they saw her at their backs. She spoke with a raspy yet sweet voice.

"Sorry, couldn't help but listen to your conversation. Were you talking about the owner of —that— house?

They looked at each other with concern. "Oh, such a little girl like you should not be outside this late. Where are your parents?"

"Trust me. I'm far from a child. What are those periapts you were talking about?"

"You should not be asking strangers around stuff that is not of your concern." The second woman responded. "Go home, your parents must be worried about you."

They left without looking back, trying to get lost from her sight between the passing crowd. Why were people so unwilling to talk about superstitious topics? It didn't matter. She didn't end empty-handed. As she read in one of her books, periapts were often the attraction of supernatural beings.

It was never a good idea to grab the one you just found abandoned. You could bring with you an apparition, a being of malicious intent right into your home. And once they were inside it was difficult to remove them from there. They'd make sure to drain your energy out to grow up into bigger and more powerful beings.

Going back to that tavern and grocery store, she entered the warm place of wooden tables and metallic chairs. The building, like most of the ones in the town, still didn't count on electricity.

The lanterns and candles illuminated with familiarity and romance that Vanilla could not help but feel nostalgic about. They were about to close. The bartender, a middle-aged man of ginger beards was cleaning his bar.

"Sorry, we're about to close. You can come tomorrow." 

"Don't worry, I don't need any more sodas. I have a few questions."

"Questions?" He rubbed his bearded chin. "What kind of questions?"

"The house that burned down near the swamps. Did you know the owner?"

"Yes. Ionut Fletcher. He lived there with his wife, Lily, and his daughter, Eva. No one survived the tragedy."

"Did him, by any chance, tell you anything out of normal before the accident happened?"

"What's this about? Sorry, but I don't think you should be meddling in matters where they don't call you. Go play somewhere else," He turned around and started refilling a sack with rye and wheat.

Vanilla felt annoyed, but she kept it to herself. "I'm trying to help. I think it was not really an accident."

The man sighed. More kids trying to play inspector near places where mysterious things happened in Merry Oaths. He didn't have time for her. His wife was waiting for him with a tub full of warm water.

"Go home, kid. There are many like you playing around. It's quite late. Aren't your parents expecting you?"

"Please. Just tell me anything and I'll leave this place." She stared at him with her eyes full of void.

Her pointing eyeballs stared at his mind. It was no use to lie. They'd detect it and would continue to fill his body with that creepy energy they carried in them. His natural instinct kicked off.

"He... he told me about how he heard some woman screaming from the swamps every night after picking up those necklaces he found. No one found them after the accident. That's all I know. Please leave now. You can come and talk tomorrow."

"Thanks for your time. Good night." She turned back and walked to the exit.

Someone closed the wooden metallic door as she stepped outside. Rowie sniffed her caws. The moon was full and the dirt road was almost deserted, besides for some lumberjacks having dinner on their fireplaces.

Despite what many would say about her, being 'crazy' or 'insane' for meddling and getting inside haunted places and cursed riddles, the truth was that Vanilla could not get more of a satisfying feeling and pleasure rushing through her body and mind whenever she was tangled in them.

Investigating and solving mysteries was like big-picture'd puzzles that served to please and stimulate her unresting mind, and the feeling of danger rewarding her with high doses of adrenaline flushing through her body were two of the things that she enjoyed the most. It was time to get into action.

She recalled the information the bartender gave her: A woman screaming? Considering this case, between all apparitions and other entities that announced their presence, a banshee was probably the most likely.

Those creatures always announced the death of someone. You had to remove them before they took their victim by disposing of the object that attracted them, or by fighting them directly.

Making them manifest on their physical form was difficult, and engaging in combat with one of them often meant suicide for the common folk. She had to be extremely cautious.

"C'mon Rowie, let's keep going." She put on the hoodie of her leather coat.

At the end of the way where the swamps started, what was left of the house could not be seen amidst the darkness of the night and the undergrowth. There was no other way but to try to advance beneath those willow trees surrounded by weeds, stepping on the mud, and trying to not get your feet caught by a creeper.

Frogs croaked and owls hooted. Vanilla stepped on the swamp. The smell of sulfur and rotten eggs filled the ambiance and turned her intestines. Her pupils expanded, but she could not see anything far at that point. Rowie's paws had problems not getting stuck, and Vanilla put him inside her Backpack. His head was the only thing showing out from it.

"Alright, Rowie, we're not too far from there," she whispered.

A scream suddenly disconcerted her. It was one of the most acute and spine-shivering sounds she had heard in her life. Goosebumps froze her back and made her heart feel like it just died. Its beats rumbled in desperation. Rowie whined.

She felt it dangerously close. If that happened to be a banshee and not some of the hookers that roamed the streets, then she was in a tight situation. The scream of a banshee always had one purpose; to mark someone with death. If Vanilla didn't get rid of her then she'd be the next one to fall to a frightening end. She had to move on. Now there was no going back.

"Rowie, I didn't want to do this right now but there's no option left..." She whispered.

She pulled out Mr. Fluffy Ball from her coat. He had buttons for eyes and his body was made of cheap grey cloth with blue and red spots. His mouth and nose were poorly sewed with red thread.

"Mr. Fluffy Ball: Custos Cattus, entrust me with your sights and lead my path through the dark. Please scare away any misguided essence and send them to that peace they deserve."

She pronounced the unique words for this doll. She screamed in agony. She felt as if scorching, frying oil was being poured on her retinas. She wrapped and tightened her eyes, and screamed once again the harrowing pain out.

After that short yet eternal moment of suffering, she felt her eyes extremely numb and her body loosened and relaxed. Her worries and anxieties disappeared for a brief moment. She slowly opened her eyelids. Everything had a blue tint and she could see right through whatever the dark wanted to keep intimate.

Custos Cattus, the spirit contained inside Mr. Fluffy Ball was posing on a rock right where the path climbed up. He was as big as a bobcat and majestic as a lion. His translucent body was covered with a blue aura of fog. He went ahead and his shine got lost in the undergrowth.

"Don't worry Rowie, he will protect us in case anything happens."

She accelerated her pace and climbed a small hill of mud and outgrown roots, grabbing herself as she could from them. She finally got to that piece of debris that was once a home. Charred walls, collapsed beams, and broke windows pilled it up. The place was unrecognizable.

Vanilla crossed through the main door. Burnt logs and pieces of concrete trapped the doors of the narrow hallway. There was nothing but calcined furniture when she arrived at what was the living room. She spotted a red painting on the floor between a pile of bricks and the chimney.

The eerie air of the charred construction that still smelled like smoke made her back feel hypersensitive, and so uncomfortably claustrophobic that she almost wanted to run away and forget about it.

"What's this?" She kicked the cooked chunk covering the red painting with her boots. It was a five-point star inside a circle.

"A pentacle... Someone was trying to either summon a superior being or looking for protection."

Some beliefs considered that pentagrams and pentacles were used as a gate between the underworld and the overworld, while others considered them as an unbreakable circle of protection. In Vanilla's experience often both beliefs were right, and if it was a portal then it needed to be closed.

"Alright Rowie, there's nothing of interest right here," She pulled him out of her bag and put his face close to hers. "Could you sniff around and try to find something out?"

He licked her face in agreement, and she put him on the ground. The puppy didn't take long. He started scratching with his paws right behind a carbonized table in a corner.

Vanilla moved it with all of her strength. She wished she was bigger and stronger in moments like these. There was an old, rusty trapdoor with no locks visible on the floor.

"What do you say, Rowie, should we go inside?" She asked. Rowie tilted his head.

She didn't want to get in there, but her curiosity was stronger than her fear. Besides, there was not much left to look around on the main floor, and with something roaming around, stalking her, she was exposed to dangers that she preferred not to think about.

It'd be better to go through the rabbit hole and try to find those periapts they mentioned. If it was a banshee she was death-marked already. 

"Well Rowie, we're going down there." She put him inside her backpack once again. "Let's see what curious things we can find."

She lifted the trapdoor and started going down through its ladder. The smell of moisture grew up stronger and intenser as she descended into the undivulged void.

Vanilla touched the ground and her boots splashed stagnant water. Rats squeaked and the basement howled. The smell of rotten matter made out with the air.

The narrow passage disembarked into a basement split up with oak planks in two sections. Rotten wooden beams supported the ceiling. Planks covered the walls and the floor was made of dirt.

She approached the section at her right. There was a workbench with dried blood stains and surgical tools. The stink grew intenser.

Next to the workbench stood a buzzing metal chest. It stunk intenser as she got closer to it. What could be inside? She put her pale hands on the lock and forcefully lifted the top. A cloud of fluorescent bottleflies whizzed next to her eardrums, hit her face and the stink of putrefaction flooded and got adhered to her lungs.

She couldn't hold it. She threw up her stomach's contents until her esophagus burned from the acids of her gastric juice.

After getting herself back, with the sleeve of her coat covering her nose, she held her breath and took a look inside. There were decomposing parts of something that looked like a swine, floating on its own soup of putrefaction. She closed it immediately. What was that maniac named Ionut trying to achieve?

"Don't separate from me Rowie." She put him on the ground and spotted a note nailed on the wall. The calligraphy was desperate and unconcise. She gave it a look.

******************************

"Entry number one:

It's been a few days since I made a contract with that monster. And to think that I just had to eat a pork heart raw and decorate the altar with its intestines. I've dug deep so nobody will ever find my altar. I've won more money than ever, and surely more is going to come in. Where was God when my family was starving last winter? That thing or whatever it might be knows for sure what a simple man needs. How bad could it be?

I've just been feeling a little ḋ̷̫̭͓͙͖́̂̾̐ę̷̨͉͚̮̟̮͍̑̋͋̅̊̒̒̈a̵̫̦̬͊̊d̴̫̞̄̾́ recently. Perhaps I will e̴̼̙̠̬̤͖̮͚̋̇̐͑͗̅̀̕̚͜͜v̶̛͖̥̘͉͔̔̀e̵̜̥̓̿̏̍̄̈́̆́̽ṙ̴͚y̸̬͙̬̑̂͋́͗̄̚͝t̴̛͖͎̱̼͌̓͊̌̔̓́͂͝ͅͅh̴̡̭̬͉̫͋̒̈́i̷̢̤̻̥̪̔͝ǹ̷̰͇̪́̍́̀̉̂͊͜͝͝g̶̨̙̙̪̳̖̭̮̯͒͝ ̵͖̳̫̿͗̇̀̔͌̒̕͘i̴̧̱͍̞̪̾͊͒ͅṡ̷̢̛̪͉̟̙̈́̀̒̓̾͑̆ ̵̢̨̖̗̜̬̙̯̘̠͑̋a̴̛̺͙͈̺̟̻̠̞͖̘̋̀̆̅̓̿ ̸̛̺̦̠̋̏̃͗̉̈́́̏l̸͙͔̠̟̾̒̀̏̃̆́̄̚i̵̢̫̱̇e̶̥̎̅̽̌̄͠ "

******************************

So that was it. You never ever had to make deals with any demonical being that offered you greatness, richness, or other powers. They always deceived, and once you signed they could do whatever they wanted with you. This man was apparently too foolish or desperate for arriving at that point.

Vanilla left the note on the chest and walked to the left section. Another spine-shivering scream thundered, and a sharp echo traveled through the subterranean room. That thing was roaming above them. Rowie hid behind Vanilla's legs.

"We have to hurry. Come here," She put him inside her backpack once again.

A feline hissing sounded after the scream. Vanilla relaxed for a second. Custos Cattus was still looking up for them. Specters, ghosts, and other types of apparitions were often weak or had an unnatural phobia of him. That was the reason why she chose Mr. Fluffy Ball over other dolls and felt relieved that she chose wisely. Another one would have been ineffective in this situation.

There was a body mirror of golden margins. It had blood splashed all over and another note was pasted on it. Vanilla removed it and saw her own face. Her eyes were not the jet black that they used to be, but rather big, yellow irises with vertical slit pupils.

That was the carrier effect of Mr. Fluffy Ball. Each doll summoned a different spirit, and they gave their user —named "carrier"— a unique effect that varied widely according to the plush. Each one had its different use, and it was up to the carrier to select the most adequate to their needs.

Vanilla's cat eyes expanded, and she began reading that entry.

******************************

"Entry Number Two:

Lily, my dear wife has been telling me to destroy the periapts that the demon told me to never get rid of. Like she knows anything. These are what are paying for the perfumes and those new necklaces of Italian jewelry I bought her.

The requests of the demon have not been demanding, but it ordered me last night to offer it some of my blood. I slit my wrist and poured some of it into the altar. What's some little blood now that I'm becoming richer than I have ever been?

My wrist didn't properly heal. I got an infection and it hurts like hell. But it's not like b̵͉̝̈́̍̿ó̴̧̹̯͈̗w̶̛̮̘̑̽ ̷͈̮̭̣̣͈͑͘͝f̵̼̟̺͝ơ̶̢̜̲͓̥͇̥̱͎̄̏̿̓͒͛́̕͝ŗ̵̜͕͕͕̮̳̭͑̅͒̑ ̸͍̠̝͙̥̪̭̺̱̬́̀͆̈́t̴͇͑̈͊ḩ̶̛͙̪̙̰͐͛̈͂̋͊e̶̮̝͙̅̂̉̎ ̵̨̧͕̭̯̫̣͓͔͕̏̀͊̓̍͐̔v̸̢̝̗̥͉͊̏̇̾̚ȏ̶̧̓͊́̏̋͒ȋ̵͎̭͓͊̿̏d̵̛̬͙̬̻͙̜͉̦̮̝̑̅̆̃̈́̚ ̷̨̢̼̣̦̱̂ą̶̳̤̣̤̗͎͂͜n̵̡̻͈̬̖̠̩̩̰͎͊̿͊̈͛̏͠͝d̵͔̋̚ ̴͓̂̍̄ẹ̶̡͂̄̂̀̕̕͝x̸̰̟͕͇̓̊̐͘p̷̧̧̤̫̀̐ẻ̶͚̯̼̟̻̙̮̩̹̠́͒͆̒ŗ̵̢̛̦̬̙͉̜̺͔̭̃̐͛͋͝i̸̯̳̙̘̜̪̍̕ͅͅe̵̘̽n̵̨̪̺̜̯̬͋͗̌̕c̵̝̳̘͌̇͗̈́ė̸̡̧͔̼̟͉̰̓͜͠ ̴̨̳̱̟̹̱̄̐̽̐͆̍̈́̌͑͝n̴̨̘̤͚̼̜̪̗̦̾̂͊́̃̆͆̓ǫ̸̡͔̞͐̃t̶̢͖̰͇̤͐̏̓̊̿̂́̍h̷̘̠͎͒̐̊́̃͆i̴͍̯̙̬̤̬͎̩͋͆̈́̋n̶̖͍̭̐̔̇͜g̶̜̘̞̻̬̭̦͙̠̾͐͋̌́̓̓̍͝.̷̛̛͚͗̿̾́̀̅"

******************************

So, those Periapts were most likely a totem that had something to do with the contract between both parts. They weren't just some cheap souvenirs the poor bastard found while going on picking up berries.

Nothing of interest remained there. Didn't he mention that he dug a tunnel that led to his altar? It was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Rowie could help her out.

"Hey Rowie, could you look around for any dirt covering an entrance around here?"

"Woof!" He was glad to help. She put him on the ground and he tracked on the dirt. He tried digging in the farthest corner of the room.

"Alright, let's see what do we have." She grabbed a shovel from a rusty toolbox next to there and helped him.

They finished, revealing a hole in the dirt; Ionut's tunnel. It had clearly eroded with time, being now a reduced hole where no average person could fit in. But Vanilla was not average. Her tiny and slim body would have no problem going through there. Being herself was not that bad, after all.

Her spine abruptly chilled and her legs paralyzed. A painful, agonizing cry echoed behind her. She witnessed for the first time what had kept her at unease this whole time, on the other side of the earthen and humid basement.

The woman was slender tall. Her long, dried and messy ginger hairs didn't cover her skeletal, grey, and sunken face. Her crooked teeth and popped-out eyeballs stared at her with hostile emptiness. Chilling goosebumps took possession of Vanilla.

Rowie didn't wait. He escaped running through that tunnel as fast as he could. Vanilla's survival instincts also kicked in. Desperation made her moan and jump to the moist ground, trying to escape away.

But the banshee growled. Vanilla turned her head around before going inside. Custos Cattus was on her, piercing her already decayed skin with his knife-long claws. He screeched and yowled. The banshee got rid of him with her stiff, lanky, and dried arms and slammed him to the wall.

The wooden planks broke and he got knocked to the ground. The banshee then approached the tunnel, but the cat got up and stopped her way. He arched his back, puffed up, and hissed.

It was her chance. Vanilla crawled inside that rat tunnel. She was not going to waste the chance of saving the life that Custos Cattus was giving her.

The screeches and cries got lost after a long-distance of crawling. Vanilla eventually found the other side. Rowie expected her outside. Her whole body was stained with mud.

Her night vision had not faded out. That was a good sign. Custos Cattus didn't get defeated yet. If he did, well, she would not be able to use his doll for some time, and she'd be totally alone and blind inside that humid den. The mere idea of it made her feet tremble and her skin shiver.

She spotted the altar at the end of that cave of ordered stalagmites for a roof. It was a common pentagram surrounded by twelve unlit black and red candles. There was a human cranium at the center.

The candles could have different meanings according to different beliefs. For some, they meant the different circles of hell, for others the balance between elements, while a few others considered them the vital energy that allowed a being from another plane to cross to this plane of existence. Still, twelve was a number not commonly used with these rituals. Something was off.

"Hmm. So, this is what he used for making that deal with that —monster— he mentioned." She looked around. A final note rested on a rock with two objects made of bones: those were likely the periapts everyone mentioned.

She grabbed the note and took a glimpse.

******************************

"Entry Number Three:

Alright, perhaps I've been wrong all this time. I should have never, EVER signed that crap. How much of a fool was I, playing with those things I didn't even understand? I barely sleep right now. Nightmares are driving me crazy. I can't even use my left hand because of how much gangrene it has. Lily is threatening to leave me and Eva doesn't talk to me.

I've been hearing every night some cries that come from the swamp, that don't help my current sleep deficit. I know it's likely my superstition, but I feel like death is watching me from behind those sallows, waiting for the perfect moment to take my soul and dispose of it to that damned monster.

About that monster: It asked for something I will never grant: the blood of my daughter and my wife. I don't care about that contract anymore. I'm breaking those periapts, perhaps in that way, I will finally a̶͈̍͒̎͗͗ŕ̵̪̯̟́̃͛̈̑́̚̚r̸͇̹̪͖͒̚ǫ̴̡͓̣̳̖̤̥͚̏̊̊̍g̷̫͖͖͇͇̓̔͒ͅą̷̦͓͕̻̏n̵̛͖̫͗̈̂̽ţ̸̯̖͈͚̘̝̣͌̀͊̈́̓ ̵͚͙̑̅̾̄̾̒͘c̴̡̹̫̻̬͈̲͛͒̾ͅṙ̶̨̢̥͕̫̼̝̮͔̘͝͝ȩ̵͉̯̻̞̟̗͓̍̽â̷̘̞͇͌̀͝t̴̰͕̖̗̻͆͜u̸̞̭͚͌̂̌̒̽̒̈ṛ̷̢̢̤̼͎͍͈́̈͗̔e̶͉̐̈́,̴̲̯͙̦̙̳͈͖̀̉ ̴̳͈̺̽̊̽̍́̈́͝ỷ̵͓̫̎̅ọ̷̘͖͚͈̖̭̖̓͐ͅu̴̢͕͈̖̳̓̉̎̽͜ ̷̯̰̲̟̪̭͙̊͒͘w̵̧͉͈̲̩͓̜̠̣̒͒͌͂̏̎̓̔́̉ỉ̶̯͕̰̝͇̰̮̝̆̅̌͝l̸͎̤̗̺̝͋͐l̶̘͙̎͘ ̷̛̛̝͌͗̀̑́͜͝p̵̢̼͔̫͇̼̥̖̔͌͒̈́̈́̐e̷̗̺̤̾̑̊̌̈́͠r̸͙̝͇͙̜̣̭͕̜̥͋̅̔̊͗͊ȉ̸̢̡͎̝̟̋̿̓s̷̟̎̓h̴̛̲̱̯ ̶̨̖̟̈́͗̄͆̂́ļ̶̈́̀͆͒̑̍̇̿̃ȋ̶̮̱̀̍̌́̈̇͘͘͝k̸͈͓̟̭̔̔̓͘̕e̶̬͕͓̿ ̸̦̱̀̑̓̊̈́͝͝ậ̸͚̗͚́̔͑ņ̶̈́̑̏̂̃͗̚͠͠ẙ̷̧͕̪͙͙͚̖̠̺̌̊̑̊̇̾̃͘̕ͅ ̴̛̛̭͍͊̏̃̃̇͝ơ̵̜̜̖̝̬̬̳̠͒́͜t̴̟̙̞̬̼̘̗͋h̶̰̩̦̦̒͊̓͝ȩ̸͖͉͈̱͚̯̮́̂̓̈́̇r̴̡͇̬͇̩̮̹̯̭̜̋ ̵̨̙̺̋f̶̟͚̼̍̎ŏ̵̪̝ȍ̴̗͎̮̏͗͠l̴͔̈́"

******************************

"Idiot," Vanilla whispered. "At least he didn't break them. Only his soul belongs to that demon. His daughter and wife are free."

The fact that the banshee got inside the house and tried to directly kill Vanilla by manifesting in her physical form could only mean one thing: She was a guardian. A guardian meant to protect that altar.

That demon, being the deceiving trash they naturally were, most likely skipped that detail to Ionut. The banshee was meant to protect the altar until the contract expired and Ionut removed it. But he didn't. He broke the contract and the altar was still up. It was the banshee's duty to retrieve his soul back to her master.

That altar was also being the only thing linking her into this world, and, until someone destroyed it, she'd be forever attached there. Perhaps that was the reason why Custos Cattus could not kill her. She was unkillable until the altar no longer existed.

She needed to perish, for she left her mark on Vanilla. She'd be the next if she didn't take action. She kicked the candles out and washed the pentagram with dirt until it was no longer visible. She stepped on the skull until it was nothing but white, lumpy dust.

The banshee growled and appeared behind, near the tunnel. Custos Cattus passed by Vanilla's side and got between them. The battle that would define who'd perish into a circle of hell was about to start.