The Vacancy

Blood for life eternal, thine, A tree is felled but by the vine,

Sisters six together woven, cleave to thee to make a coven

At 2:15 am a man can be heard crying softly in the courtyard. The windows in the facing apartments are all dark, except where reflecting the lamplight. A few balconies glitter with permanently installed Christmas lights. It's mid November, and there is gentle snowfall alight in the frigid air.

Julia, who has not yet fallen asleep, listens from her bed to the sound splitting the heavy silence that snow brings. In a few hours she will have to wake up for work, but she hasn't been able to relax. A general sense of anxiety continuously gnaws at her mind, though she isn't thinking about anything in particular. It gnaws more vigorously as she considers how her lack of sleep will affect her tomorrow.

Slowly but surely, the sound of a stranger's suffering drifting gently up to her 4th floor apartment lulls Julia to sleep at last. She finds herself oddly comforted to hear someone else's expression of pain.

At this time of year, the sun does not rise until long after Julia has left for work. When she wakes she turns on the light over the stove before making herself a cup of tea, getting dressed, brushing her teeth and tying up her hair. She bundles herself up well before locking her door and calling for the elevator.

On the bus ride to work she sits on the right-hand side of the bus, which looks East on the trip North to the oil fields. Not much detail can be seen more than a few meters out from the side of the highway at this hour, except for where the snow makes sharp contrast with the black silhouettes of trees, but Julia gazes out anyways, just for something to occupy her eyes.

As she gazes out the window, Julia thinks as she often does about her home on the West coast of Canada. She never intended to stay long in Fort McMurray, a mining town where people come to work, retire early, and move away, when she accepted a job a number of years ago as an engineer in training after college graduation. The job market hadn’t been getting better since then either. She was often reminded of the old joke about the golden handcuffs.

At some point in the journey, she notices a point of orange light coming closer in the distant hills. When the bus is about to pass it, it becomes clear it's a bonfire. The strangeness of seeing a bonfire at 6:30 in the morning, in the wilderness and with snow on the ground, is not lost on Julia. What's stranger is that she has been seeing the same thing on her bus ride for three consecutive days, a fire burning singularly in the distant darkness.

When she gets to work on the mine site, Julia does not greet her coworkers as she passes the array of office doors. She only flips the light switch in her office and removes her coat before starting her computer, clicking and dragging, manipulating digital lines and points. The time passes quickly, bulldozed in the path of mighty routine. Morning meetings come and go, surveys are commissioned and slopes are designed. The day wanes lean.

On the bus ride home, just like the last two days, Julia keeps her eye on the hills to the East of the highway. The sun is up now and she can see easily into the distance. The hills are bald in some places where trees didn't grow. She scans those bald areas for bonfires, but she doesn't see anything except alternating forest, brush, and outcrops, all still dusted with snow from the night before. She guesses it must be homeless people, or hardcore outdoorsy types.

The following day, Julia has time to eat lunch in the break room. Eating with her coworkers now and then seems to be the least-effort way to maintain her professional relationships. She’s not really much for relationships in general, so the least-effort way is most often her way of choice.

When she gets there with her sandwich in hand the room is empty. She is a few minutes early. She walks around the table to the other side and sits facing the door. There is a copy of the Fort McMurray Today on the table. She drags it over.

The front page has a picture of the snowy hills outside of town, shot through some Winter-brown underbrush and some blackened tree trunks, remnants of a forest fire of a few year's past. The headline reads "Peace Officer Breaks Up Satanic Ritual on Highway 63".

The door opens. Brad from the Tailings department walks in.

"Hey, how's your day goin'?"

"Not bad, surprisingly chill for a Friday. How about you?"

"Not bad, just chuggin' along. Plans for the weekend?"

More people trickle into the break room. The paper doesn't come up in conversation. Somehow it's neither surprising nor interesting. The internet seems to be full of fruitier loops - Satanists don't really measure up. Julia doesn't get a chance to read the story.

When she gets home, Julia cracks open a beer and throws a frozen pizza in the oven. She stares out the window for a moment, then opens her phone and enters some search terms into Glassdoor, the way she usually starts the weekend. A large, disheveled looking raven lands on her balcony with a rustle, croaks, and poops before taking off. The oven timer beeps to let her know her food is ready.

While she is eating her pizza and watching Youtube on her laptop she is somehow reminded of the newspaper from that morning. She pauses her video and clicks into the search bar, typing with one hand. She pulls up the paper's website and opens the story.

Fort McMurray Police have received several reports of illegal bonfires from drivers on Highway 63. Officer Joseph Burns made it to the scene on Wednesday to discover a seemingly Satanic ritual taking place. 6 people in hooded garments, reportedly all women, escaped into the bush. Officer Burns pursued the perpetrators on foot but lost sight of them. He returned to the crime scene to investigate and extinguish the fire.

"There were a bunch of burned corpses of animals in the fire pit. It looked like maybe rabbits? There was also blood poured in a circle around the fire."

Soil samples containing blood and remains recovered from the fire are being sent to Calgary this week for forensic analysis.

Julia looks through some other headlines before clicking back to her Youtube video. That would explain those bonfires then. Not long after she feels sleepy. She has a hot shower before crawling into bed.

Saturday passes by in a daze. Julia sleeps as late as she wants, watches more Youtube, does a little laundry, and in the evening she goes grocery shopping.

The grocery store near Julia’s house is packed, as expected on Saturday evening. Julia grabs some tomatoes and some zucchini before considering a display of expensive exotic fruit.

“Gotta grab it while it’s on sale, right?”

A blonde woman in her 50s flashes Julia a toothy, bleached-white smile with a border of dusty rose lipstick. She turns to the fruit and begins inspecting guavas.

“Yeah, I usually avoid buying this kinda stuff because it’s not cheap.”

“Tell me about it. My husband always used to be on my case for buying fancy fruits.” She raises her free hand to make a quotation sign with her fingers. “Do you have someone at home?”

Julia thinks the way she asked the question seemed rather pointed and unnatural, but doesn’t pay it much mind.

“No, I live alone.”

“Ah, good honey. Keep it that way. I never met a man who knew how to mind his business.”

Thinking it’s about time to get out of this conversation, Julia hurriedly snags the nearest pineapple.

“Well, have a good night!” She tries to be as nonchalant as possible.

“Yeah, take care of yourself dear.”

The woman’s smile is wide but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Grabbing a few more groceries, Julia makes her way to the self checkout. The girl attending the kiosks smiles somewhat nervously at her, her closed mouth moving only a little but her shallow-set, pale green eyes snapped clownishly wide-open. Julia rushes through her groceries as is her usual habit, pays, and motions to leave.

“Thanks, have a good night!” The girl says, nervously.

“Thanks, you too.”

When Julia returns home, she immediately unpacks her groceries. She notices the pineapple she selected in a hurry is thoroughly rotten.

On Sunday, she goes to church.

The sermon lasts about an hour, its ending signaled by the shortening and dispersion of the lines leading up to the pulpit to take communion. Once worshipers return to their seats, the priest makes announcements.

"...The Catholic Women's League is holding a fundraising bake sale on the 2nd of December. If you would like to participate, please sign up at the booth in the foyer..."

The congregation begins to shuffle towards the door to continue on with their Sundays. The foyer is crowded with people as usual. Julia sees lots of familiar faces but no one she has any kind of relationship with. Smiles and nods are exchanged. Some people stop to chat and a few speak to the women manning the bake sale table.

Julia feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns to see a plain woman in her early forties with a gentle smile, brown eyes, and hair styled in a low ponytail. She hasn't seen her in church before.

"Some of us women are going to one of our houses to have tea together later, dear. We'd love to have you there. I'm Catherine, by the way."

They shake hands.

Julia thinks about declining, but she has been meaning to get more involved in church activities, and In fact the sentiment is fresh on her mind, as the sermon that day had been on the theme of community. She tells herself tea isn't too big of a commitment, and agrees. It probably has something to do with the bake sale, she thinks, but if she feels she's being pressured into something she doesn't want to do, certainly she can just make an excuse and leave.

The tea is at 2pm at some woman named Judith's house. Julia is able to walk there in about 20 minutes from her apartment. It's a sunny day and not too cold, about -5C. Julia wears a thin cashmere sweater under her open Moose Knuckles parka, and some dressy culotte slacks. Naturally, she wants to make a good impression.

When she arrives, Catherine opens the door.

"Hi, glad you made it! Come on in!"

Julia is led into the kitchen, where she meets Judith, the host, who she recognizes as the fruit lady from the grocery store, and two other women in their late twenties or early thirties. They introduce themselves as Emily and Rachel.

Judith seems very Martha Stewart. Her kitchen is all off-white and her appliances are matching, stainless steel and high-end. Julia ignores her displeasure at having crossed paths with this woman again. May as well give her a chance though, since it’s too early to try to make a break for it.

“Hi, funny meeting up like this again! You have a lovely home, by the way!

"Oh, thank you! You're so sweet. Have a cookie! We're just waiting on one more person and then we can start."

Judith gestures towards a plate of mixed cookies on the counter and begins arranging store bought petits fours on a carousel. Emily turns to speak to Julia.

"So did you grow up here?"

Julia answers that she moved out here for work and that she was originally from Surrey, BC. Then the doorbell rings.

"I got it!" Says Catherine excitedly.

Julia converses with the women in the kitchen bit more, feeling more at ease as the conversation progresses. Emily and Rachel are both from Fort McMurray. Judith says she moved here with her husband when he received a job offer, though he has since passed away. Julia expresses her condolences.

"That's alright dear! To be honest we fought like alleycats anyway."

The three women cackle somewhat insidiously. Julia returns to feeling uncomfortable.

Catherine reappears with the final guest in tow. It’s the self-serve kiosk girl from the grocery store.

"Julia, this is Beth. Beth, Julia."

"Hi, nice to meet you!"

"You too!"

Julia thinks Beth’s bug-eyed smile sort of reminds her of a lizard, but she seems like she’s probably a nice kid if not a bit awkward.

"Okay ladies," says Judith, turning the burner on under a cream-coloured enamel kettle. "Now that everyone's here, shall we move into the next room?"

The women make their way out of the kitchen and sit down at Judith's dining table, which is covered with plates of various sweets and tea snacks. Julia sits next to Rachel. Emily and Beth sit across. Judith and Catherine, who are both a bit older, sit at the heads.

"Wow, Judith, this looks amazing!" Says Beth.

"It's my pleasure! Emily brought the petits fours."

The women eat and chat. They ask Julia all the normal questions, and having the food to keep her hands busy helps ease her anxieties. She relaxes and begins to enjoy herself somewhat. At some point the kettle whistles. Judith excuses herself and scurries into the kitchen to make the tea.

At a lull in the conversation Julia asks, "So, do you all know each other from church?"

"Oh, no," laughs Emily. "Catherine introduced us all. We don't go to church."

Julia thought her tone seemed kind of strange, but perhaps it wasn’t altogether unusual for some people to develop sort of a mocking tone when talking about religion.

"Oh, sorry, I guess I thought this was a church group, since Catherine approached me after mass."

"That's funny dear I never said that," Catherine says. Is she smirking?

Judith returns with the teapot, moving to serve Julia first. She adds a sugar cube to Julia's cup with a set of tongs and dissolves it by pouring tea over it. Julia doesn't usually take sugar in her tea but she doesn't say anything, not thinking it worth the risk of being rude to her host.

"Do you take cream?" Asks Rachel, passing a white pitcher.

"Yes, thanks," Replies Julia, taking it and pouring a little into her cup.

As Julia stirs her tea, Judith goes around the table clockwise from Julia's left, filling everyone's cup. Julia puts her spoon down on the saucer and raises her cup to her mouth, taking a couple of sips and enjoying the warmth. As she watches Judith pour Emily's tea, then finally her own, she notices that she does not add sugar. Of course she must know their preferences, but shouldn't she have asked Julia too?

The women continue to talk and laugh but Julia is preoccupied with the cube of sugar in her tea. The women's tone seems definitively strange and maybe even a little menacing now. She is still trying to think of a way to excuse herself before she begins to feel foggy.

She comes to with a knife in her hand.

Julia doesn't look at it but she instinctively recognizes the weight and curvature of a kitchen knife handle. Her arms are outstretched and she is facing a campfire, about two meters away. Its warmth is especially pleasant since her face is so cold. She becomes aware of the aching of her knees. Still hazy, she looks down to where her knees are planted in the cold snow and sees a man in a police uniform looking up at her, wide eyed and gasping, his hands and feet tied with ropes. He is bleeding heavily from a wound in his chest.

Suddenly her hands feel sticky. She looks over to her outstretched right arm and sees that it is covered in blood.

Frantically scrambling backwards, dropping the knife in the process, Julia finally takes in her surroundings. There are four...no, five figures standing in a circle between the fire and the darkness of the forest in hooded cloaks. It dawns on Julia that they are chanting something.

"Blood for life eternal, thine, A tree is felled but by the vine,"

"Sisters six together woven, cleave to thee to make a coven,"

"A covenant of damned souls, to do the work of cursed ghouls,"

"If but a witch cast not the spell, sisters six cast straight to hell"