Entering into the Lane household, Daria felt some sort of chill. Someone walking on her grave. As she was about to follow Jane up, she saw a familiar face, a scruffy hair-cut and ragged clothing. Trent stood in the hallway.

"Hey, Daria, could I talk to you?" he asked, in his usual tone that sounded as if he were drawing his last breath

Wrinkling her nose, Daria immediately shot a glare at Jane, who rolled her eyes. "Okay. 20 bucks. I'll give it to you in a sec" she sighed and went up the stairs. Daria followed Trent into the kitchen and he went to take a beer from the fridge.

"Just before there's any protest, this conversation is not about what you think it's gonna be about"

"Uh-huh" responded the teen gal unemotionally, observing him from the doorway, still a little on edge about seeing him.

"How long have you guys been going to that asylum?"

"Oh, the psychiatric hospital. Only once"

"Make sure it's the ONLY time you set foot in there" he dragged out, severe warning in his voice.

"Dare I ask why?"

"Me and the guys went by there one night, had a bit to drink after one of our gigs. It was late and we heard voices coming from deep within the remains of the building. They were speaking in unison, coulda been a big group or small group. We never found out. But when we went in to get a better listen, we heard what we swore to be a woman singing. It was indistinguishable. Never knew if it was a language or was just exercising her vocals with no frame in mind about the lyrics, like scat music. It coulda been gibberish. It's the way it was sung though that spooked me. It was a sweet, inoffensive melody, but the voice of whoever it was sounded like she'd been tortured, like someone had attempted to rip out her voicebox. It gives me chills thinking about it. There were moments where the voice was crackling, there was exaggerated croaking and droning, to a pitch even I couldn't reach if I'd tried. We then heard heavy breathing and aggressive growling all around us, as if someone were doing it right in our ears, but we looked at each other and we couldn't see a damn soul. We ran as fast as we could, till the place was outta sight"

Daria blinked, taking in the story, envisioning the scenario a little too vividly for her own liking. There was a pause. Trent leaned against the counter, looking down at the floor.

"I believe you" she muttered finally, causing the ragged young man to look at her. He was puzzled for a moment, then his gaze relaxed and saw that they in fact had an understanding. As, she turned to leave and go upstairs, Trent slid in one last factor.

"I'm only saying this 'cus... I swore I heard her again... out my window last night"


Daria sat on the bed, reading through more of the journal, whilst Jane was at work at her easel, painting the symbol she'd seen on the pendant and among the other sigils in the work. It started with a 'Y' and sat at the end of a sideways capital 'T'. From the bottom of the 'Y', a letter 'S' wound through the straight line and finished just before the end, making the head of the 'T'. Each ending line was decorated with a cross pattee. The symbol was then encircled.

September 3rd 1935

Once the night comes, everything becomes still and clear. I can finally see. This is what father promised me. Tonight, I saw the most beautiful woman, most elegant, on such a sombre night. She looked upon me with such pity and I knelt to kiss her feet, overwhelmed by her presence. The room became heavy as if everything were dragging downward. Gravity greatly emphasized. I hadn't at all the pleasure to hear her voice escape such fine, thin lips. Her features were sharp; her cheekbones, chin and brow, along with her pelvis bone, spine and ribs, jutted out, like a skeleton thinly draped in dark skin of a smokey topaz. Her legs bowed, like the poor children in Africa and her belly, pudgy, sat within her apparent frail frame unsteadily, as if it may burst .

The bookworm assumed that this may be the entity who had visited them both during the night and at school. His depiction of her didn't sound in the least inviting and his perception of beauty, unarguably questionable and immoral. However, there was more.

She levitated in the air and carried up upon her shoulders two skulls. Another set of arms held a rose and what looked to be a rusted sickle. And yet another set of arms limply dangled from her, like an insect with multiple limbs but whose arms suspended from duty hung in defeat. Black horns, like that of a gazelle, protruded from her skull at the sides and her forehead produced a bright light. Not an eye, perhaps like a bindi. She had no hair, but her traits undoubtedly feminine.

I continued to speak but without a single word hearing in response. Her gaze upon me hypnotic. I could stare forever into them. Those glowing eyes, sat within dark sockets. Telepathically, without at all giving me the joy to hear her voice, she instructed me to take a piece of paper. I took also a piece of stone. I am lucky to take anything back with me to the room when they let us outside for activities. I had of course had to sneak it in. I cut quickly across my palm and used a finger nail to illustrate blindly onto the paper, not once taking my eyes from her. Afterward, I rose to her and offered her my bleeding hand, to which she gently and slowly took and began licking and lapping her tongue at. The sensation, the maddening sting and her spreading saliva coursed through me, electrifying. She then offered my hand back to me and I fed upon my own cut, sucking, even biting at the skin, cleaning the traces of blood from myself. She then offered unto me a smile and she vanished before me.

Upon my paper was her sigil, provided on page A.3, and she's instructed for me to call upon her with it, and her name: Vescatur. The Cannibal.

Finishing the last of that entry, Daria's eyes lifted slowly to the artist's painting, to see that it was exactly that of Vescatur.


Their tradition of having pizza never seized. With the paperwork carefully stored away and the painted sigil blue tacked onto the wall beside the easel, the two girls sat watching Sick, Sad World. Their bellies full, the two laid comfortably beside each other on the bed.

"How far are you with reading with the book?" Jane asked curiously.

"Almost half way through it. I'm inclined to finish it now. Always a habit of reading books. Even if I can't stand the damn thing, I gotta finish it"

"It's THAT bad?"

"It's unnerving" Daria replied truthfully. "With every detail, I just think about how this is all in our hands. What sort of creature we could be playing with if we take the information or use it the wrong way"

"We're not actively trying to summon anything, Daria. We're using it for academic research and studying. Nothing harmful about that"

"You say that now, but you can't be sure yourself, seeing as you mauled me earlier today"

Jane smirked. "You're really not gonna let that go are you?"

"No time soon"


Very reluctantly, staring over at her girlfriend who was offering just a nervous glance, the artist turned out the light and wondered over to the bed, getting in to wrap her arms around Daria tightly, securely. Nothing particularly sinister had happened to either of them, but they didn't wanna take chances with this thing they couldn't see. For the sake of safety and comfort, they sought out each other, as they would be experiencing this together.

"You set the camera up, right?" Daria asked in a hushed tone, trembling a little under the covers.

"Yeah. See that red light over there?" Jane pointed out in the dark, next to the computer.

The chestnut haired teen nodded and attempted to rest and settle herself down.

"It'll be okay" assured the artist in a soft whisper, stroking her girlfriend's hair.

"You can't be sure of that"

"I'm just offering feign optimism to calm your nerves. I figured you'd appreciate that"

"I'd appreciate an invisible entity NOT watching me sleep" the bookworm growled quietly, still trembling.

Jane tucked her head over the timid teen's shoulder, nuzzling her, as they tried to find comfort and ease with each other. She smiled as she felt Daria's own hands rise up from under the covers to stroke her hair softly, her fingers raking through it gently, through silky soft strands. Amidst the bitter silence and darkness, the girls held each other tight, exchanging whispering assurances to one another, hearing and feeling one another's terrified heartbeats.

Neither of them had a desire to be without the other for a single second that night.

End of part six