“What do the voices in your head say, Gus?”
“That I must worship the devil and all must suffer.”
“Very good. Now do the voice.”
“You will burn in hell.” The boy’s voice became a growl and his face contorted with a false rage.
“Perfect.” Gus’s mother ruffled his hair and he smiled proudly. “They’ll be here soon, so get ready. Do you have the green slime?”
“Yup.” He tapped his pocket.
“Great.” She smiled warmly and pinched his cheek. “The crucifix is all wired up so just go and make sure your sister is ready.”
Gus left his mother in their living room and bounded upstairs. The sweet smell of freshly baked cookies - for their imminent guests - had drifted into every crevice of the house and created a suggestion of quaint homeliness.
He found his Agatha laying on her bed, staring at her phone. She glanced at him as he entered and then returned her gaze to her phone. “What do you want?”
“To check you’re ready.”
“For what.”
“The guests. The Paranormalists.” She rolled her eyes at the mention of the YouTube channel’s name. This was all beneath her, and that saddened Gus. She had been through it all before herself, and had grown to despise it. Such a brat, he thought, she owed their mother thanks, not apathy. All she had ever wanted for them was happiness, and if that was through fame and being seen by the world, then so be it.
“This is dumb.”
“You are dumb. Are you ready?” He stamped his feet and she raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, Gussy, I’m ready.” Agatha rolled her eyes again and sighed in irritation. “Now can you get out of my room?” He obliged and left his sister to her phone.
The doorbell rang five minutes later and Gus’s mother shrieked before running across the house to answer it.
“Hello.” Gus heard her say brightly from the living room. There were muffled responses from outside and then she continued: “yes, yes, come on in!”
“Thank you - this is a lovely house - shoes off?”
“Oh, thank you - no, no, as you are is fine.” Gus heard her lie as two stick thin and pale creatures turned the corner to face him. They stood in the doorway and regarded him for several moments, as though sizing a caged animal, assessing the risk and admiring the wonder from a position of relative safety. “Is this…”
“Gus…” His mother finished the sentence, “yes.”
“I sense it already.” The man said to the woman beside him without either of them taking their eyes from his own. Then, realising that the subject of their attention was a living, breathing human being, they snapped out of their conjoined reverie. “Hello, Gus!” The man entered with an outstretched hand for Gus to shake, but the woman hung back. There was a handshake as his mother entered the room.
“Gus, these are the Paranormalists, from YouTube.” She knelt beside him and gave him a minute suggestion of a wink.
“Okay.”
“They want to ask you a few questions about how you’ve been feeling recently. Is that okay?” Another wink, and he nodded.
“Great.” The man said. “Jane, come and say hello.” He said to the woman who had retreated into the dark of the hallway, shallow eyes peering from a shaded gloom. She made no sound. “She can be a little nervous in new situations.” He smiled at Gus and sat on the sofa beside him. “My name is Alan. That is Jane. We’re going to ask you some questions on film if that’s okay? It will be on our YouTube channel so you can watch it back. Would that be okay?” Another nod.
“Tea?” His mother asked.
“Please, white, two sugars.” Alan said, then looked to Jane. “She’ll have the same.”
“Okay.” His mother left, slowly easing around the mute obstruction in the hallway with a concerned, sideways glance.
“Now, Gus,” Alan began as he started to set up a small camera on a tripod, “do you have any questions for us?”
“Am I in trouble?” Gus asked. One of his pre-scripted lines that had been drilled into him by his mother.
Alan stopped the camera assembly and placed a bony hand on his shoulder. “Not at all. We are here to make sure you are safe.” Gus smiled as his mother returned with the tea. “It would be good to see the rest of the house, if that was agreeable? Just scope the joint, as it were.” Alan said to his mother.
“Of course, follow me.”
“Jane, are you coming?” Alan asked his partner - whose eyes had not left Gus’s face - but she shook her head. He sighed, “fine. Lead on Ms. Bambridge.” Their footsteps thudded up the stairs amid vague chatter that faded to silence, leaving Gus alone with the staring Jane and three cups of steaming tea.
Gus looked at the floor, then his feet, then out of the window, then back to Jane. Still she stared at him. “Are you alri-” He began before she cut him off.
“-what’s your name?” She stepped forward into the light of the living room - the sun illuminating her long, white dress - and he marvelled at her height.
“Gus.” He said after a moment’s hesitation. Didn’t she hear that already? His ears rang as he spoke - a symptom of his sinusitis which he swallowed away with a light pop.
Her eyes widened as she continued to move closer. “What is your purpose here?”
“…I live here.” He said, again his ears rang and he swallowed hard to clear them, lightly shaking his head.
She moved up to him, kneeling and locking eyes. “You will leave this boy’s body. You will return to where you came from.”
“What?” Gus said. He could smell the sweetness of her breath, see the depth of her wide, unblinking eyes, feel the panic in her beating chest. Her eyes darkened, her complexion paled further.
“Everything okay?” Gus’s mother interrupted the moment and he exhaled with relief.
“Jane?” Alan said, as he entered the room. Jane’s eyes dropped from Gus’s face and she turned to her partner, pensive, thoughtful.
“We need to leave.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“What?” Gus’s mother was shocked, saddened. “You’ve not touched your tea yet.”
“What’s wrong?” Alan measured his partner with a frown and gently held her upper arms. Jane looked at Gus but her eyes shot away the moment their eyes met. “Why don’t you go and get some air? I’ll get us started.”
“No!” Jane yelled, startling everyone. “This is evil. This is not for us to… meddle with.”
“Jane.” Alan shook his head, doubtful, then looked at Gus. “It’s just a boy. Let’s get some footage, if anything happens then at least we have evidence.” Jane bowed her head, admonished and took a seat on the sofa. Her eyes were fixed to the floor, refusing to focus on Gus.
“Sorry about that. This can be a bit intense, but it’s nothing to worry about.” He smiled at Gus and then his mother before taking a gulp of tea and returning to the camera. Gus met his mother’s eye as she mouthed “well done” and raised her eyebrows. I’ve not done anything, he thought, though glad of the praise. “Okay. Now then, let us begin.” Alan cracked his knuckles and swivelled in his seat to smile at Gus and his mother in turn.
Please, just get on with it, Gus’s mother thought.
“I will ask some questions, I just want you to ask honestly. If at any point you feel like this is overwhelming, we can stop. You just need to say. Is that okay?” Alan said, smiling dumbly at Gus.
“Yes.” Gus’s mother said on his behalf. Just get on with it, please, she thought again, with a rising impatience.
“Gus, is this okay?” Gus nodded. “Good.” He pressed record on the camera and swung his head from side to side, emitting small pops from his neck. “Okay, first question: is your name “Gus”?”
“Yes.” Gus said.
“Okay, good start.” Another smile, another ostentatious breath. “Where are we now?”
“Home.”
“Okay, good. And where is home?”
“Gus’s house.”
Alan smiled and let out a short laugh, pausing before making another note on his pad. “Where is Gus’s house?”
“Here.”
The smile left Alan’s face, only to be replaced with something that fell directly between irritation and fear. “And where is “here”?” He said after a glance at Jane, who had sat up a little more straight in her seat, her eyes ever-fixed on Gus.
Gus bit his lip. “Beyond.” His voice had taken on a rough timbre and his eyes had glazed over, though remaining locked on Alan. A sliver of a smile found the boy’s face and his head cocked an inch to the left.
“To whom am I speaking?” Alan said. The colour had drained from him and the pen quivered in his whitening hand.
“Cthohlum.” The name left Gus’s mouth with a growl as his lips churned into a grin and his eyes rolled around the room.
“What?” His mother said. Why has he said that? Where did that come from?
“Cthohlum?” Alan asked, after flashing a shocked look at his mother.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” The words churned out of Gus’s mouth like a machine gun amid the chatter of clacking teeth.
“And who is Cthohlum.”
“Cthohlum the mischievous.”
“Why are you mischievous?” Alan asked after a nervous pause.
“I am a riddler. The master of the riddles. Cthohlum the mischievous and Cthohlum the dark.”
“The dark?”
“You fail the riddle and you are punished. The punishment is not light.” Gus threw his head back and laughed a ragged, serrated laugh.
“What? Gus, what is this?” His mother took a step forward but was stopped by a glare from Alan, her face drained of colour, frowning and wide-eyed. Why is he saying this? Where is this coming from?
“Can you give me a riddle now?”
“Alan!” Jane shouted, moving to the edge of her seat. He raised a hand to silence her without looking and her wide eyes betrayed her fear.
“Alan. Alan. Alan.” Gus echoed. “A riddle. Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Gus doesn’t know any riddles, why has he gone down this road? This is dangerous, Gus’s mother thought as she moved forward again to interrupt, but Alan put out a hand to keep her back.
“What is always cross, often altered, and usually at one’s throat?” A silence filled the room and Gus’s eyes wandered around it, finding each of the other sets in turn with their wide, bloodshot orbits. They flickered as they thought, as they chewed the question, a panicked subtext humming in the background.
What is the punishment? He’s just my boy, Gus’s mother thought, just my boy, it’s a made up nonsense. There’s no punishment… but somebody answer the damned riddle!
“Tick tock…” Gus said, the smile fading from his face which took on a vision of disappointment.
“I- I-” Alan began to mutter. The table in the centre of the room began to tremble, spilling tea as its legs thumped on the ground.
“Gus…?” His mother managed as her eyes flicked from the table to her son and back again. He can’t be doing this… how is he doing this. The terrible thought that this was not all his doing finally entered her brain and it made nausea rise in her chest. What have I brought upon my poor boy? “Alan…” She whimpered, but it was ignored or unheard amidst the din of rattling furniture and half-whimpered recitations of an unsolved riddle.
“A crucifix!” Jane shouted, finally. The table ceased its movement with a thud.
Gus slowly twisted his head to face her and his mouth groaned into a wide and unsettling grin. “Yes. Yes. YES!” With the final syllable, the crucifix on the wall opposite him spun upside down with a scrape. Alan and Jane stared at it, aghast and terrified. Gus beamed and licked his lips. His mother sighed and allowed her mind to slow to a canter as an element of normality entered the room.
“What’s all the noise?” Agatha’s voice from the doorway shattered any illusion of calm.
If she’s here, then who lifted the crucifix?
“Agatha…” Their mother whimpered and pointed to the upended symbol.
Her eyes moved to regard it and then she frowned. “I didn’t do that.”
“We know!” Her mother shrieked back.
“Wait. Is this a set-up?” Alan got to his feet and turned to face their mother, a look of shock and disappointment etched onto his face.
“Of course it is.” Agatha said with a laugh before turning and leaving the room.
“No.” Their mother shook her head, incredulous. “No, it was. But none of this was meant to h-”
“I cannot believe that you have made all of this up?” Alan began to switch off the camera and gather his things.
Jane stared open-mouthed at Gus and then his mother as she slowly rose to her feet. “This is outrageous.” She managed with barely a whisper.
“No, you don’t understand. This is real. This isn’t my son!”
“You’ve really let yourself down here.” Alan said, seemingly on the verge of tears as he rammed his notebook and some wires into his backpack. “I have never felt so ashamed. This was all so real.”
“It is real!” She screamed.
Alan and Jane made their way out the room and the latter paused in the doorway. “Your son is quite the performer.” She scowled at mother and son one last time before leaving with stamped footsteps and a slam of the front door.
Gus’s mother panted, trying to catch her breath and to line up all of the events of the day in some sensible order. A quiet laugh rose from behind her. At first it was a chuckle, bright and child-like, and then it grew in depth and weight and volume as it filled the room and her chaotic mind. It was the laugh of a grown man, a maniacal old man. This is not my son. She had to turn around and see him, fighting against every instinct to just run away, out the room and to never come back. Slowly, with the laughter roaring and her heart fit to burst from her chest, she turned to face him. The boy was levitating, his mouth locked open and trembling with the demonic utterances. And then silence fell. He slowly lowered himself to the floor, his eyes clearing and the smile on his face softening.
“What’s for dinner, mother?” Gus asked, frowning as he glanced around the room. “Where did everybody go?”