#devildelaney

The Ghost

Like angels with wild beast's eyes

I shall return to your bedroom

And silently glide toward you

With the shadows of the night;

And, dark beauty, I shall give you

Kisses cold as the moon

And the caresses of a snake

That crawls around a grave.

When the livid morning comes,

You'll find my place empty,

And it will be cold there till night.

I wish to hold sway over

Your life and youth by fear,

As others do by tenderness.

I think I hear a voice inside my head again...

✨ Rhiannon ✨

Prompt Requested By James Delaney (Devil Delaney)

Disclaimer: I've taken certain liberties in this prompt regarding aspects of Native American culture and the character/storyline of James Delaney from the show Taboo. All liberties are minor and done so respectfully, or so I intended. With that said, I hope you enjoy the read.

Location: Knoxville, TN

East Tennessee, the land of good ole’ Rocky Top and southern hospitality, where the Appalachian mountains reign supreme along the terrain and whether the bustling city or a small, quaint town, there is a deep connection to both community and land, and a friendly air of welcome to any and all despite the need for privacy and a regard for the locals way of life.  Kimber, born and bred in Knoxville, loved growing up in the area and even with New York being her home now, she would always have a special place in her heart for her hometown. Granted, it’s not often she is able to make trips back home. This particular trip had actually been one spur of the moment and put into motion by a series of peculiar if not fantastical events to transpire as of late.  All of which revolving around herself and the arrival of a man named James Delaney, a man she should have NEVER crossed paths with, at least in the scheme of the natural order.

Time, however absolute and consistent despite constant change, surely had other plans that would throw both individuals for a loop--forever changing the course of their lives.  One night whilst late at the office and after a particularly hard day’s work, something miraculous happened as she was indulging in a drink before getting back to work, and truth be told, if she hadn’t witnessed it with her own two keen and circumspect eyes, her logical and sane mind  would have surely had her questioning her sanity at the moment. In a whirlwind of shadow and flash of light, time split and from out of the ether emerged a brusque man, a man overwhelmed by his bewilderment and suspicious of his current situation. The same could be said for Kimber at that time.  

With a rough, sudden start no less than incredible AND magical, the two managed to figure things out as best they were able and work together for a common goal--well a seemingly common goal.  Granted, with revelation came astounding new mysteries in regard to the universe. In all honesty, Kimber felt compelled to help James. It couldn’t have been easy on the mind or the spirit to be yanked from his era and thrust into a one far more modern.  The adjustment was haphazard at best, but with possessing determination and strength of will, they started down a rocky, perilous path with one another, one rich with intrigue, the dark arts and just as much adventure as misadventure. In doing so, they managed to get to know one another on a personal level.  When Kimber learned that James’ mother was actually Native American she found herself surprised. Like her, James is a ‘half-breed’.

It was in his struggles, ones pertaining to his past and possible future, Kimber thought it best she bring him to Tennessee to meet someone that has been influential in her life, her mentor in youth--a Cherokee Shaman named Cheveyo ‘Thunderheart’ Brolin.  Cheveyo, a Shaman for a Cherokee tribe located on the outskirts of Knoxville, had been blessed with certain gifts in life, one being foresight and the other natural magic. He was one of the first people from the tribe, the tribe of her biological father, to get close to her and through their relationship, Kimber learned about who and what she was, who and what she is today.  Cheveyo was also the one to teach her how to control and use her abilities properly with great skill. With James’ Native blood and his own ties to magic, there was no doubt in her mind that her former mentor and Shaman would be able to help James find the answers to the questions he couldn’t seem to stop asking himself.

It’s been 2 nights and 3 days since Kimber has returned to her hometown with her peculiar and time-displaced friend, James Delaney, and already, it has been interesting, to say the least.  Cheveyo had been expecting them and in Cherokee tradition, welcomed them with open arms and a calm, willing desire to help. For the most part, the first few days had been quite uneventful, the introduction of James to her adoptive parents aside.  As expected, they found him generally off-putting yet oddly charming and were shockingly impressed by his ‘old-fashioned’ customs and manner. Whatever the case, the introduction, and visit to follow would surely be remembered. With that out of the way, they returned to the tribe and Kimber gave him the proverbial tour as preparations were made for a ceremony in honor of the ancestors and spirits, one to take place before another, the one of James’ spirit walk--a metaphysical journey into the astral planes of the mind and soul.  

Kimber was 16 when she went on her first spirit walk, the journey taking her to a barren place void of the corporeal, a place existing between the physical world and reality as it is known and an otherworldly realm considered the ‘afterlife’.  The spirit of an ancestor greeted her, a woman much like herself, an empath from the tribe. She spoke in riddles and rhyme, a chorus of metaphors, and even though Kimber couldn’t discern it all that time, she would come to a place of enlightenment, a place of self-awareness that would aid her in efforts to control and utilize her empathic abilities and true nature.  Over the years she has been on two other spirit walks, this one steadily approaching, her third and thru it, she will be James’ guide as the Shaman watches over them so they can transition with ease and without threat of the evils lurking in the cracks and crevices of this great, untamed and mystical yonder.

And So Shall It Begin…

Dusk, it blankets the sky and welcomes the night, a night providing a full moon and clear, sparkling stars across the jagged and ragged contours of good ole Rocky Top.  A chill settles in the stillness of the air and the atmosphere becomes transcendent. After preparing their bodies per custom, lathered in oil whilst donning paint and the blood of a sacrifice, and woven linen, Kimber and James make their way to a clearing thru the woods--the vibrant gleam of a bonfire luring them in like a beacon.  As they make their approach, they come to a large canvas and leather Tipi that from experience, Kimber knows is positioned over a pit of hot, steaming coals and burning sage. It is a welcomed sight, but one no less inspiring great admiration, respect, and trepidation. From inside the Tipi the Shaman, Cheveyo, chants prayers and praise to the ancestors and to the spirits in efforts to welcome the pair and provide them with a safe, informative journey.  The chanting, hypnotic and primally rhythmic, calls to her--luring her into the unknown.

“James,” Kimber speaks, tone direct yet gentle.  “Are you ready for this?” She asks him, genuinely curious out of concern for him.  Spirit-walks aren’t for everyone and for those fractured in mind and spirit, the journey could be just as perilous and destructive as it can be profound and enlightening. “I am,” James says to her, his shrouded gaze locked on the Tipi and the steam pushing through the crack in the entrance flap.  Kimber nods. “C’mon. He’s waiting.” With Kimber ushering James forward, she allows him to take the lead and to enter the Tipi first and to take a position around the pit directly across Cheveyo. Greeted by the warm and muggy atmosphere, she finds her place next to James, both sitting with their legs crossed and eyes locked on the Shaman as he prepares a ceremonial drink in two wooden bowls, a drink made of herbs and more importantly MESCALINE. All the while continuing his chants and praise.  Once the drink is made, he turns to James and leans over across the pit to hand him the bowls. “Drink,” states Cheveyo before he turns his attention to Kimber and hands her the other. He nods, a silent understanding exchanged between the two.

They Partake…

Not long after ingesting the concoction of herbs and drug, a bitter drink hard to swallow and even harder to keep down if not for the herbs, they wait for it to take possession.  Between chanting, Cheveyo eases them into this altered state of mind by courting them with calm, positive suggestion. It begins with an odd physical sensation, an electric tingle flush across the surface of the skin as the body, though heavy and sluggish, becomes light and loose in essence--offering a conflicting feeling of being anchored in place whilst taking flight.  As this happens, a wave of nausea is sure to come, one provoked by the body rejecting the toxin in the drink. If compelled to vomit, one shouldn’t fight it, but if able to keep the liquid down, the individual must have the constitution to withstand a dreadful feeling of extreme sickness. Kimber, both held captive by the physical sensations and nausea, falls into a rhythmic pattern of deep breathing that undoubtedly eases the initial unpleasant effects.  

Turning to James, she notes the paleness in his parlor and the sweat that has broken across his brow.  There is no doubt, he is experiencing the initial wave. Reaching out to him, she places a delicate hand upon his shoulder and says, “Breathe… just breathe. Slow and deep.” Once certain he has heard her voice and taking her instruction, she pulls back to give him the space he will need to embrace the transition and ascend. As the sensations intensify, the drug courses through the system directly to the brain, enveloping it.  The directive? To spark the synapses and jolt the mind’s eye. Kimber can feel it taking hold, opening her mind and offering her a new perspective--one needed for the success of the journey. When her pupils dilate and her view becomes a kaleidoscope of light and imagery, she knows she is on the cusp and steadily approaching the doorway into the astral.  Once more, she languidly turns to look at James and with his eyes mirroring her own, wide and dilated, she knows he is beginning the climb toward the peak.

GLITCH.

The vision of James next to her fractures, seemingly splitting in the moment and all that surrounds them from the Tipi walls and the pit to the Shaman fall away.  Even the darkness of the night fades away and they are greeted by daylight and a glowing, overcast sky. A storm is coming. They find themselves on a beach, one both rocky and sandy next to a large body of water and she realizes suddenly that she can smell the salt in the air with a distinct aroma of iron and coal wafting in on the breeze.  This place is unfamiliar and downright foreign to Kimber, but as she glances at James, she notes an expression of recognition as his eyes take it all in. There is a moment, a brief yet revealing moment, she swears she sees a deeply conflicted look in his eyes and she knows without uncertainty they are in London and in his time period. “We’re here, aren’t we James?” Her voice echoes a soft, eerie tune that catches in the wind. “Yes,” James nods as he slowly gets to his feet. Kimber follows in suit, eyes never leaving him as he scours the beach in search of something. What that is, Kimber knows not.

GLITCH.

Kimber’s vision fractures once more and their surroundings jutt and shake violently in a flash of light and swirls of smoky darkness, but only for a few brief moments. As the world around them calms and the scene becomes clear, they are standing further down that very same rock and sand beach as before.  Only this time they are not alone. It’s the sound of nearby splashing accompanied by a woman’s wails and the blood-curdling cries of a baby in distress that draws their attention. What is happening before them is a vivid vision of the past and one so shocking that it takes Kimber a moment to process. Waist deep in the water is a young Native American woman with a baby, a baby she has submerged beneath the cold surface of the water in an effort to drown. "Sometimes dead is better! Sometimes dead is better!" The woman screams repeatedly.  

The horror of it prompts Kimber to act, her own naturally maternal instinct kicking in, but logic and experience stand to reason.  THIS IS NOT REAL. Any attempt made on her part would be vain. They are just specters, phantoms from the past reflecting the memory of time.  James does NOT realize this fact nor would he really at this point and as he moves forward swiftly--motivated to reach the woman and child, Kimber is just as quick to grab him by the arm to stop him.  “THEY CAN’T HEAR YOU JAMES! THEY CAN’T SEE YOU,” she calls out loudly enough to grab his attention. Bewilderment and a plethora of other emotions etch his rough, weathered features and even though she isn’t sure who the woman and child are to James, she knows she is now looking into the deepest part of his subconscious to a moment time of great significance for him.   “They're phantoms,” Kimber continues. “The past replaying events.” As soon as the words pass thru the softness of her pout, James turns to her, expression chilling to the marrow of Kimber’s bones. "She said… sometimes dead is better,” James speaks, repeating the woman’s screams as she drowns the child.  The words and his delivery, just chilling as the look upon his face. It’s in that very moment, Kimber knows… she knows from the depths of her patchwork heart, James was that very baby and that woman his mother.  It’s a revelation that leaves Kimber standing before him tongue-tied and speechless whilst gutted and heartbroken.