Julia
To say I’m royally confused when I wake up is an understatement.
I sit up groggily, blinking back sleep. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, and my body still rings from the ghost of this morning’s encounter. Logically, I know it was a dream. So why did it feel so real?
An image of Zeke kneeling beside the bed flashes through my mind, and I can’t help but blush at the intensity that flared in his honeyed eyes. But he couldn’t have been here. That’s just silly.
“It was just a dream,” I murmur into the empty bedroom, as if the words could convince my harried thoughts.
“What was that?” Jake’s voice calls from the en suite bathroom. It takes me a moment to register the sound of the shower, and then realization hits me like a brick.
Jake and I fucked last night.
And we’d made love this morning, hadn’t we?
It still seemed so hazy. I could have sworn it had been Zeke’s face hovering over me as he moved so reverently inside of me. Things with Jake had never been like that. They were either drearily boring, or crazy like last night. I must have been so tired that I dreamed it, or maybe I was just half asleep for round two.
I want to groan out loud at how Jake had pounded me into the table yesterday. How had I given in so easily? I don’t even know if I can forgive him yet, but he’s already back in my bed after one nice dinner.
What does that say about me?
I don’t even want to think about it. Luckily, Jake provides a distraction by turning off the shower and stepping out into the bedroom, dripping and covered only by a towel slung low over his hips.
He grins at me, but it’s nothing like the lazy smile he’d flashed at me this morning.
“Sleep well?” he asks cockily. His eyes drift down from mine, and I blush when I realize that when I’d sat up earlier, the covers had pooled around my middle, exposing my bare breasts to the morning sunlight.
“Other than that one interruption,” I say, trying to mimic his confidence.
“What interruption?” he asks. He looks genuinely confused.
So maybe it really was a dream.
I don’t want to dwell on what it means that I dreamt of making sweet love to Zeke instead of my husband, and so I wave it away.
“Never mind,” I dismiss.
Jake shrugs but doesn’t question it. “I hate to say it, baby, but I’ve got to go into the office today.” He pauses, as though he expects me to protest, but I’m secretly glad to have some space and time to think. “I’ve already turned on my location on my phone so you don’t have to worry about where I am.” He says it sheepishly. The insidious, doubtful side of me whispers that it seems too rehearsed to be genuine.
“Okay,” I reply after an awkward pause.
He lingers for a moment before he moves again. I get the sense that he’s not sure what to make of my short answers. Eventually, he shrugs for a second time and then heads to the walk-in closet.
I watch with idle curiosity as he dresses in a fresh suit, gathers the rest of his things, and then swoops in for a quick kiss. It’s a little too forceful, but I return it dutifully.
“I’ll be back tonight,” he assures me, and then he’s gone. A moment later, the front door slams, followed shortly by the crunch of gravel as he drives away.
I sit in bed for a few more minutes, contemplating the day that stretches ahead of me. I hate being alone in this house, but I don’t exactly have anybody to call. There’s no point in going shopping again. I can’t even distract myself by talking to the workers out in the swamp now that they’ve finishing moving the graves and are waiting on the final permits to start draining the marsh
Still, I can’t just languish here like some distressed Victorian woman. Instead, I decide to start with my normal morning routine and just go from there.
I take my time in the shower, washing all signs of sex from my body. My muscles are sore, and my hair is tangled, but I do the best I can. After that, I gather up one of my favorite dresses, a matching pair of heels, and a set of lingerie. I slide into my clothes and am just about to start on my makeup when I hear a car pull into the driveway.
Who could it be?
It’s not like I have any friends who would just come popping over on a whim. Maybe Jake decided to stay home after all?
I hurry to the window and peek out through the blinds, catching a glimpse of a familiar car.
Of course, it’s Helen, our closest neighbor. Even though only a few weeks have passed since she last stopped by, it feels like it’s been an eternity. While I normally don’t appreciate unannounced guests, I find myself relieved by her sudden presence.
I’m already downstairs and throwing the front door open before she’s even made it to the front stoop.
“Good morning, Julia,” she greets me, her southern manners outweighing her surprise at my appearance.
“Hello, Helen,” I reply. I’m unable to keep the relief out of my voice, and she picks up on it immediately.
The older woman’s eyes narrow. “Is everything okay, honey?”
There’s something about the warm way she says it that reminds me of my late mom. Tears shimmer in my eyes and cloud my vision as I shake my head.
Helen’s gaze lands on my eye, and I realize with burgeoning horror that I haven’t put on my makeup yet, and by extension, I haven’t plastered foundation over the ugly bruise that Jake’s hand left on my cheekbone.
“Oh, honey,” Helen sighs, and the pity in her voice shatters something inside of me.
The tears finally come out in choking sobs as I bury my face in my hands. Shame hits me first, followed hard by a punch of fear.
What must Helen think of me? She probably thinks I’m some weak, pathetic trophy wife who lets herself be tossed around by her bullish husband. Is that really what I’ve become? When did I lose so much of myself? How did I even get here?
Helen’s arms wrap around me and pull me into a matronly hug. She soothes me as I cry, stroking my hair like I’m a child and cooing calming platitudes into my ear. It’s exactly what I need, and that only breaks me down more.
Finally, I compose myself enough to pull away. I don’t look at the older woman. I’m afraid to see the judgment in her eyes.
But she clasps her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to meet her gaze. All I find there is a spark of fierce protection, the sign of a woman who’s seen more of life than I have and has vowed to never let bad things happen to anybody else.
“Your husband did this?” It’s clear by the way she asks that she already knows the answer.
I nod, since there’s no point in hiding it.
“What do you want to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” I force out.
“Whatever you need, I’ll help you,” Helen assures me. “You wouldn’t be the first young lady in Hahnville who’s needed to get away from a violent man.”
“He… Jake’s not violent,” I protest. I don’t know why I feel the need to defend him after what he did. “This is the only time he’s ever done anything like this.”
Helen shakes her head. “The first time, you mean.” Her eyes harden as though she’s just made an important decision. “How much do you know about the history of this land?” she asks.
The question is a curveball, and I find myself answering automatically with the little information I’ve got. “There used to be a huge old house here, but it burned down. That’s why Jake was able to buy the land at such a good price.”
“That house has stood on the edge of this swamp for generations,” Helen says. “The Gregory family lived here up until Miss Penny’s niece sold the plot to you. If she’d known that it was still here, she never would have done it.”
“What’s still here?”
Helen’s eyes shift toward the swamp, and I’m overcome by the intense surety that something is watching us from the trees.
When she speaks again, her voice is hushed and tinged with fear. “This is an unholy place, Julia. Somewhere down the Gregory line, one of the ancestors called something forth from the swamp. Since then, it’s murdered countless people, practically everybody who was unfortunate enough to step foot on this land. It gets inside their heads, the men in particular, and makes them do terrible things. But it loves the women especially.”
I don’t want to believe what she’s saying. It sounds like the ramblings of a madwoman. And yet, every part of me is screaming that it’s all true.
“It wanted Layla, Miss Penny’s niece. They burned the house down to try to get rid of it. Then it went after Bailey, the contractor’s girl. When she got away, I was sure she’d put an end to it, but I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s back.”
The fear is plain on Helen’s face. I think about all the times I’ve felt sure that somebody was standing just behind me but turned around to find nothing. I’ve seen figures out in the swamp. Then there was that weird incident with Tanner, who wasn’t even supposed to be in the state.
“I’ve heard things,” I admit after a long moment.
She nods, encouraging me.
“I’ve… experienced things. Things that I can’t explain.”
“You’ve seen it,” Helen states. It’s not a question, not when she already knows the truth that I’m so hesitant to share.
I don’t want to believe it, but I know she’s right.
I know that something is out there.
I draw in a deep breath. I’m aware that to say the words, to admit them out loud, would be giving in to the impossible.
Finally, I steel myself as demand, “What is it? What’s out there?”
Helen regards me for a moment, assessing how serious I am. I hold her gaze steadily, determined to show her that I’m ready to know the truth.
“A demon,” she says. “Asmodeus.”
My mind flashes back to the figure I’d seen last night out in the abandoned cemetery in the swamp. Who had Jake said it was?
“Amos,” I murmur.
Helen’s eyes widen in shock.
Somewhere out in the distant marsh, the sound of singing floats on the wind.
Folks, I’m goin’ down to St. James infirmary…