Chapter 29: The Bramwell-Gates Legend Part One

I stood atop Grayson Hall, Bramwell-Gates Art Institute’s tallest building, overlooking the campus. From my perspective, it seemed like I was in a VR session. I immediately noticed the leather sleeves of my coat and caught a glimpse of wolf fur attached to the collar of a cape off my right shoulder. Glancing upward, my long charcoal-grey fingers—an eerie and inaccurate detail—loomed high over my head and coursed with fire.

Below, the campus burned, and I was the firestarter.

Only it wasn’t me. I had become Malvic, my Lords of Omni role-playing character, but something was wrong. I had no control. I was a passenger forced to watch my alter burning students.

I tried to scream, “Stop,” but nothing came out. I felt silenced and trapped as the fire burned with greater intensity. At that point, I heard a blood-boiling growl that made me look to my left.

Hellie, in her beast-dog mode, was different. Her glowing white eyes were orangish-red, and her black fur appeared to flow with burning magma or lava streaks.

She jumped off the building, and the body I possessed followed suit. The leap scared the shit out of me because it felt so authentic. But I landed on my feet.

It couldn’t be real. I can’t do that.

I watched myself as I continued to burn more people, and Hellie ripped apart and devoured anyone in her path. The wailing of the victims tore at me.

On the ground level, seeing the gory details of the charred and boiled skin of the dying made me fight even more to gain control.

The intense emotions pushed me out of Malvic. Being outside of my alter, I got a good look at him, and he brimmed with malice. Then a tug at my ghostly presence floated me upward, far above everything. Gazing down at it all, to my shock, not only was the campus on fire, but much of it lay in ruin.

Everything dimmed.

Then I woke, breathing heavily.

Was I dreaming? My god. It felt more like I had lived through it.

Hellie crawled up and looked curiously into my eyes.

“We aren’t killers, Hellie. We are hunters of evil entities.”

I patted the pillow, and Hellie placed her head beside mine. I started to roll to my side to rub her hair, but she started rubbing mine.

In an instant, I was a kid again, lying next to Shellie. The memory was so acute, I could have sworn I connected to the moment in the past.

She’s just your nanny.

Recalling my mother’s voice, who had worked hard to belittle my relationship with Shellie, forced me to face the difference. Shellie was so full of light and love. But Hellie was my near-emotionless pet that I summoned from the Void.

As much as I wanted Shellie back, I had to let go. She was dead. Hellie was here.

Despite doing my best to wreck the moment, I enjoyed Hellie’s comfort for a few minutes until my alarm chimed.

“Come on, girl. We have to go meet Gene.”

***

I sat in the commons area by the kitchen upstairs and sipped on a steaming cup of red-eye coffee. My thoughts flashed to the previous night when Gene claimed that the collapse of the Bramwell-Gates Bridge was part of our school’s legend and asserted that my pet and I were a part of it as well.

Although it was too early to deal with Gene’s conspiracy nonsense, I promised to hear him out. So Hellie and I scheduled to meet with him at the school’s library in less than an hour.

Initially, I thought we’d all walk over together, but Gene’s zealous ass had left already. Jammer passed his message to me when I dropped Hellie off.

Since Hellie was with Jammer getting dressed, I had time to myself.

While I waited, I used the opportunity to glance over several campus and local news sources, anxious to see if there was any news about the dead bodies in the woods or Tiny Jem. I was sure his party friends would have gone straight to the cops, but there was nothing. Even stranger, they still hadn’t announced the destruction of the Bramwell-Gates Bridge.

But the news was inundated with Campus Slugger headlines. The narrative that the Slugger was a supernatural being had escalated based on the testimony of the latest victim in the hospital.

A notification popped on my screen, directing me to many missed calls and texts. There were over fifty, but only two grabbed my attention: texts from Nate and Teena.

I immediately read Nate’s because I was apprehensive about Teena’s message. I left abruptly and didn’t complete my community service.

Nate had sent several texts about his ill choice in inviting Jana, including an apology for ruining game night. It was clear that he thought I was angry with him. I’m sure my non-response only exacerbated his feelings. That might explain why we hadn’t seen him in a few days.

I wasn’t mad. Since I had last seen him, I summoned a hellhound and began hunting The Theater of Sins, but I wasn’t writing that in a text.

He was my only close friend from the Nightshade, our role-playing group, who didn’t know about Hellie, and I didn’t know if I wanted to tell him. Undoubtedly, I would have kept Hellie a secret if she hadn’t morphed in front of everyone. But it was a relief to be honest with my roommates; plus, everyone was supportive. So I guess at the right time I’d tell him.

I put those thoughts aside and opened Teena’s text. “Billy, it was cool hanging out. Let’s do it soon, like next week, soon. Would you be my plus one at a social soirée I’m hosting Saturday? You can bring Hellz.”

Hellz? Teena friggin Aoki has asked me to one of her parties. Yes. No. What am I thinking? I hate parties! But, on the other hand, I like being with Teena.

It took me half a second to reply with a thumb’s-up. Seeing the emoji in the text, I immediately regretted not sending a written message.

Overthinking my next move, Jammer walked up with a freshly dressed and styled Hellie. I stood and quickly pocketed my phone.

“Ta-da.” Jammer held out her arms and presented Hellie.

Hellie looked great. The 80’s dress aesthetic worked perfectly with her natural big, black hair.

“You know as much as you’ve been helping me with Hellie, I should pay you.”

“No biggie. You already give me a free place to crash.”

“Come on, Jamz.”

“Jamz? Oh. Okay. I am a little strapped for cash. Give me a solid wage plus a line of credit for accessories or items she may need, and I’ll be her personal assistant.”

“Can we include showers and continued potty training?”

“You have my money app. I wonder if Hellie’s a pad or tampon girl.”

“Whaaa…?” My eyes rolled, and my head turned toward Jammer. “She’s a hellhound. She can’t have a…one of…those…I mean, she’s technically dead.”

“You can say period, Billy. Well, better safe than sorry. I’ll grab a box of each and let her decide if the time comes.”

“Come on, Hellie. Let’s go catch some fresh air, then meet Gene.” Before exiting, I grabbed my backpack off the couch next to me–Rules of the Black Arts for Advanced Users went wherever I went—and headed for the stairs.

For some reason, Hellie didn’t follow. Instead, she stood in place, slightly moving her head from side to side, scratching her neck. Then Hellie’s feelings pulsed at me, and I felt a slight restriction against my throat.

I forgot that she liked to be on her leash when she went for a walk. In response, I twisted my backpack around me and took her collar and leash from its side pocket.

Once Hellie saw what I had, she moved to my side and waited for me to attach it. Jammer looked on with a quizzical expression as she finished my red-eye coffee. Once I fastened the leash on the collar’s hook, Hellie and I were ready for a nice walk.

***

My imagined pleasant stroll with Hellie didn’t happen. Yes, we occasionally got strange looks because I was walking her on a leash, but that wasn’t what tormented me. Despite my efforts to push it down, I kept visualizing random students walking alongside me bursting into flames and writhing in pain.

I even heard the faint wails of their torture pushing at my eardrums. I knew it wasn’t happening, but I couldn’t shake the utter panic welling up. In that dream, Hellie and I were murdering them without remorse.

That’s not us.

I had to keep my thoughts under control. Not only because I didn’t want to trick myself into summoning fire with my magic, but I also didn’t want Hellie to read my dark visions as commands to chow down on the students.

Feeling weird impulses brewing, I cut our walk short and made a B-line to our destination. As much as I hated to admit it, getting off campus grounds and inside the library was welcoming…at first.

Unfortunately, after leaving the solitude of the anteroom, I peered into the circular layout of the main floor and quickly noticed the area was bustling with people.

At least the change of scene seemed to have ended the murderous visions. Maybe it was because I was comfortable. The library was like a second home. I practically lived there during my youth, studying everything I could find on mysteries, magic, science, and anything my heart desired.

Out of habit, I looked out to the center of the room at the bronze statues of my great-great-great grandparents, Lucena Bramwell and Avery Gates—the founders of the Bramwell-Gates Art Institute. Despite how much I had distanced myself from their legacy, the family’s stories of them held an immovable spot in my heart.

I must have paused too long because, when I shifted my attention away from the statues, I noticed people staring at Hellie and me. That was a good cue for me to make our way to Gene’s reserved reading room on the second floor.

As I started ascending the staircase, I caught a glimpse of a security guard talking with one of the library technicians but seriously gawking my way. Maybe Bob, the security guard who had prompted me to get special concessions with Dean Shulenmeyers. I swiftly directed us off the stairs and behind a large column that was close by. I wanted to avoid another confrontation. When I spied out from the hideaway, I confirmed—yup, it was Bob. But, good news, I don’t think he saw us. Upon reinspection, he appeared to be in a deep conversation with the librarian. Keeping out of sight, I ducked Hellie and myself into the elevator and pressed the button for floor two.

“Hello, Mr. Bramwell-Gates.” The doors of the elevator hadn’t even fully opened when Bob’s voice cracked the silence.

“Addressing another complaint?” Hellie and I stepped out.

“Do you mean to ask if they have stopped?”

“No. How can I help you, Bob?”

“My job is to observe, document, and report. When there is trouble, it’s always best to be close. I can do my job better that way.”

He tapped his glasses and gave Hellie a once over, inspecting her with the flow of a master drill chief. Finishing, he looked over at me, took out a pen and small pad, then jotted down some notes.

“I noticed you admiring the statue. It must be nice that they are your great, great, great grandparents.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Just saying is all.” Bob smeared his lips, threw his hands in the air, and backed away.

The interaction left me a little bewildered. But as soon as he disappeared down the stairs, so did my thoughts of our tête-à-tête. We pushed on, made it inside the reading room, and closed the door.

Our presence didn’t even spike Gene’s attention a little bit. He was sitting at the room’s table, engrossed in reading as usual.

“Hellie, under no circumstances, no running off or leaving today.”

After I felt her compliance, I unsnapped the leash to allow her to roam freely within the room. But there wasn’t much space for that. Besides the main table with four chairs, there were two matching leather lounge seats with coffee tables by a large-paned window. Hellie stayed by my side.

“Good morning, Gene.”

“Is it?”

Gene’s immediate comeback reminded me that he wasn’t a fan of the term. Instead, he claimed it was an undercover platitude that tried to inflict positivity on the receiver.

“I wasn’t expecting you yet. Jammer said you were ‘walking’ Hellie.” Then the little bastard finally stopped reading, held up his fingers, and air quoted on the word walking.

“I know she looks normal, but she’s mostly a dog. And she likes walking. Only cruel people don’t walk their pets.”

“And I thought you were killing time to delay our meeting.”

You’re not wrong there.

“So, Hellie, how was your walk?”

Hellie looked over in Gene’s direction but started to sniff around the small private reading room with a capacity for no more than four people. It wasn’t a serious sniff, but she briefly hovered over Gene’s books for some odd reason before settling in a chair by the window.

“How can you concentrate here? It’s so…so organized.”

After a beat, I pulled out a chair, set my backpack on the floor, and sat down. My sarcasm was on point but wholly ignored. Gene was on a mission. When he turned his attention to me, we locked glances, and I prepared myself for why he’d arranged our meeting—to explain Hellie and my role in the Bramwell-Gates Legend.

“Billy, I am going to cut to the chase. Every college town has a grossly horrible urban tale so seared into the fabric of the students and locals that they never speak of it, fearing they will grant it life.”

Gene paused. It added a very spooky atmosphere to his following words.

“Sometimes, the where may change—campus buildings or Greek-letter houses. Sometimes, the when may change—an auspicious event or a holiday. Sometimes, the why may change—revenge or evil unearthed. Sometimes, the who may change—a masked assailant or a supernatural presence. But in the heart of every legend, the core never changes. People die! Sadly, the one you are part of ends with the ‘murder’ of everyone.”

Gene looked deep into my eyes and didn’t blink.

“Billy, I think you could be responsible for the massacre of the students at Bramwell-Gates Arts Institute…”

Gene continued speaking, but I blocked it out. It was as if he looked into my soul and saw what had plagued me the whole morning.

I immediately started to spiral as I recalled the violent imagery.

Massacre.

No other word better described what Hellie and I had unleashed in my dream.