Iniquity: Book One

Chapter Eight

What lay before me, on those shelves, was something my weary eyes never thought they would glimpse in the office of a psychiatrist, or anyone’s office for that matter, well, unless you were a historian or collector. Could she be? Why would she have so many? What of clients outside of having white skin? On those shelves were books on every conceivable aspect of Nazism that even Adolf Hitler could ever hope to imagine. I had never seen so many. I mean sure, there were kids in high school that read Mein Kampf and decided to get their rocks off by doing a book report on it, much to the dismay of many a teacher, but this was overwhelming. There were hundreds. This vista of hate began to make sweat drip down the small of my back despite her office being cool with circulating air.

Steiner finished her phone call and turned to face me. “Good afternoon Amber,” she said in her thick accent.

Her appearance was striking. From the back she had quite the body, but now that she turned to fully face me I was greeted with blonde hair that framed a pair of calculating azure eyes, eyes that were truly beautiful and could have anyone they wanted, but eyes that shone with deep intelligence. Her nose was sharp and slightly upturned. I found her so unexpectedly pretty, albeit in a cold and bitter way. Her eyes appraised me in return while I gazed at the loose fitting gauzy white blouse that plunged deep into her decolletage. She was very beautiful. The only thing that really betrayed her age was her hands.

I did what I could to compose myself after glimpsing that wall of horror. “Hello..Sheryl,” I said, as I was instructed to call her. I very nearly made the mistake of saying Doctor Steiner. Definitely don’t want to do that.

“You are probably thanking the universe because of your good fortune,” she purred. I watched her walk over to her desk, retrieve a pack of cigarettes and light one. Watching her smoke was almost an erotic experience.

“Excuse me?” What was she meaning? Good fortune? I was here because of my horrible fortune.

She laughed a little before sitting on the edge of her desk. “You must feel very privileged to be here, to have me as your help on this journey.”

I was so confused. “Journey?”

She grinned and smiled like a cheshire cat. “Why your journey back to sanity of course,” she said in a smug voice. “You know, obviously, that Sheryl is very busy with her work and that Tony is a very dear friend.”

Why was she talking about herself in third person? “Of course.” She had better because she was so full of herself. “I am so very thankful, Sheryl.” I played the part.

She stuck her cigarette in her mouth, stood up making her heels clack on the polished wood floor, and clapped her hands together in jubilation. “Let us begin then!”

I nodded. “So do you want me here…?”

She shook her head and waved towards the couch with one red tipped finger. “Over there, on my sofa. Please.”

I did as I was told.

The couch was so comfortable I almost began to doze off. My body still craved sleep so much after all I had been through. I had to stay up though. The good doctor probably had a b**m set behind her horrible bookcase full of gadgets to discipline me. I did not feel like being disciplined today. She took up residence behind the sofa, in her high-backed desk chair that she wheeled over. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her voice. I also couldn’t fall asleep because with her so close I could smell her perfume, Chanel I had decided, and it was strong. It wasn’t bad, just a lot of it. She definitely used enough of it to make her presence known.

“Okay,” I said in a low voice. “I’m ready.”

There was a long, uncomfortable period of silence. She was there, behind me, that was for sure, but she wasn’t talking. I was starting to fidget on the sofa. I wanted to see what she was doing behind me. Paranoia began to set in. I propped myself up to look and saw her grinning at me. She had her legs crossed, her cigarette dangling from her red lips, and her pants hiked up exposing classy five inch or so pumps. I was envious of her shoes, because I will be the first to admit I did have a bit of a heel fetish. She saw my admiring gaze and gave me a knowing smile. Busted. Would she write about this?

Finally, after what seemed like ages, she spoke. “Tell me about your dreams,” she said, getting straight to the point.

My heart beat a little faster. I laid back down and let out a heavy sigh. “Don’t you need a pad, recorder, or something?” I always thought psychiatrists and therapists used those religiously. She didn’t have anything of the sort.

She laughed. “I do not need them. I have perfect memory.”

Well then. It was time. “I.. I.. It was a few months ago when the first one came..” It was easy to tell Tony, but now, telling someone new, was proving to be very difficult.

Sheryl noticed my discomfort at recalling my episodes. “Be strong, Amber,” she said in the warmest voice I think she was capable of. “Nothing will hurt you here. Tell me what you have seen, felt, and smelled. Leave nothing out.” This was the first sign of genuine compassion from her.

She rolled around and reached over to rub my arm in a consoling way. I looked up into the probe of her icy blue gaze and the floodgates opened. I could not stop the tears from being shed while I recalled every vicious detail from the past few months. I let it all out. I told her everything. Nothing was left out, from the onset of the migraines two months ago, seeing the beast’s shadows in my dreams while hearing his horrible breathing, until he finally appeared in my bathroom. I even told her how he smelled. Also disclosed was the wedding photo incident, Safeway, and the blue pills that Tony had been giving me. I didn’t know if I should have done that. I didn’t want to get my friend in trouble for giving out prescription medication to me, but I felt I had to disclose this to her. My heart craved help. Needed it.

“I swear I am not psychotic or suffering from some schizoid episode. What I experienced was real. The thing in my dreams, the wolf, is real. He is hunting me.” I sounded crazy to myself.

She was silent for a moment. Probably processing the mammoth load of crap I had laid on her. I looked up at her and noticed she had her hands steepled under her chin. She was deep in thought. She stared at me until I couldn’t take it anymore.

I had to talk again. “Did I say something.. Wrong?”

She shook her head, still going with the silence, but then spoke suddenly. “Sometimes it is darkest before the dawn, my dear. Darkest before the dawn.”

I felt comforted. “You are right.”

She leaned over and took my hand. “Describe him more to me, please.”

“Huh?”

“Describe the werewolf to me please.”

“Werewolf?”

She nodded. “Yes, what you are seeing in those.. dreams.. Is a werewolf. It is a beast that is part man and part wolf, but more than that. They are supernatural beings that have been whispered about in many cultures over the ages.”

What she said was chilling and did little to drive the fear and anxiety from me, but I continued. “The fur was thick and he had broad shoulders. I could see the muscles beneath the fur. Then there were the eyes. The eyes were the worst.”

She seemed especially interested in that. “Tell me about them.”

“About the eyes?”

She nodded again. “Yes. Speak to me of his eyes.”

Those eyes..

My flesh began to crawl as I recollected them. “They were,” I began, then adding after gulping down a mouthful of nervous spit, “They were completely white.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “They would be, wouldn’t they?”

What did she mean, “They would be?” I was starting to sweat. My hands shook. I didn’t know if I could go on anymore.

She sensed my plight. “He is not here, at least right now. You may tell me now, what color was his fur?”

“Black,” I whispered. “Black as night.”

“Go on..”

I remembered the teeth. That toothy grin with spittle dripping. I told her about it.

“His mouth had sharp looking teeth, and there was spit dripping.” I remembered the tongue too. “He looked.. Hungry.”

“Iniquity,” she said under her breath.

“Excuse me?” I had never heard that before. Iniquity?

“Evil,” she replied. “Iniquity has a few different meanings. It can mean wicked, sin, or even evil itself.”

Then yes, the beast had a lot of that. “You are saying it is evil?”

Her laughter made me uncomfortable, as did her condescending tone. “They are born from evil. Many believe the origin of them is unclear, however I know of their true origin.”

“What do you mean?”

She pointed a crimson tipped nail toward her bookcase. I was forced to confront the wall of evil books once more. “There. As you can see I am a collector of sorts.”

A collector of Nazi books. “I was wondering about them.”

“Look closely,” she commanded. “You may want to sit up.”

I did as was requested. I sat up and stared at the books. At first all I could see were the various incarnations of Swastikas, the word Hitler, Nazis, and the red, black, and white bindings. I could also see the little portraits and photos. Then I started reading the titles of these works. “Nazi Occult”, “Hitler and the Holy Grail,” and topics like those were most prevelant. They weren’t really concerned with Hitler’s evil deeds. All these books were focused on the Nazi quest for items of the occult.

“They are not what I expected.”

A ghost of a smile crept over her face. “Of course. Now Hitler was very obsessed with the occult. He had specific groups of agents scour the globe in search of ancient religious and occult artifacts in his quest for power. Something inside of Hitler believed in magic, in these items, so he so desperately sought them.”

“And the werewolves?”

She nodded with a grim look. “Yes they have quite the colorful history through the ages and Hitler knew this. He knew the legend of Gilgamesh, the Greek Legend of Lycaon, and the Nordic Saga of the Volsungs. He knew that there was one common theme that crossed cultures.”

“Which is?” I asked.

“The presence of these beings is undeniable.” She got up and put out her cigarette in a glass ashtray on her desk and returned. “They are thought to be hereditary, they are thought to come from a bite, there has even been the notion that they come into your dreams.”

She was supposing exactly what I was going through. Was she suggesting that she believed me? How could this be? What coincidence I would get a psychiatrist who has a werewolf fetish.

“My dreams,” I whispered.

She stood up. “You will be fine my dear,” she said suddenly. “The dreams will not hurt you. However..”

“Yes?”

“You must come see me again.” She walked over to her wall of window and gazed out at the mountains in the distance. “I appreciate your honesty and I believe you. You are not crazy, however this affliction must be treated appropriately.”

I didn’t know what she meant by appropriately. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to know. One thing was certain. She knew her s**t. I felt like she understood me. I knew that she knew more than she was saying.

“I will,” I promised. “What else do you think?” I probed.

She put her hands on her hips and turned to face me squarely. “I believe that you are stressed out from your recent breakup a few months ago..”

My face paled. “How did you..?” How could she have known? I never mentioned my breakup.

She laughed. “Your friend told me,” she stated matter-of- factly. “I also know the pain and loss you feel from your father’s death is also influencing and propelling these dreams. It is also blinding your perception of reality.”

“So I am crazy then.” It was for sure now.

She shook her head. “No, of course not. I believe there is more to these dreams than your mind manifesting pain and suffering into this.. Entity.”

“More?”

“Yes,” she stated flatly. “Much more. Now you have been taking the pills that Tony has given you, which is fine. He told me about them, however I want you prescribed something stronger. I want you rested. I want you to recover.”

Preach on sister! Dope me up and relax the hell out of me to push the dreams away.

“Thank you so much,” I said. “What am I going to be taking?”

“Mirtazapine,” she said. “It is a strong antidepressant drug used to treat major depressive disorder. Also a wide range of anxiety disorders it is most useful for.”

“You think it will help?”

“I do. Let me write you a prescription”

I was grateful. “Thank you so much. I will go fill it now.”

She pulled a small white pad from her desk drawer and began scribbling out my prescription. When she was finished she tore the paper from the pad, click clacked over in her heels, and handed it to me.

“I will see you again soon,” she said, her eyes levelled intently at me. “I will text you.”

“Thank you so much.” I would follow through with this. This was all I had. This was my hope. “I will fill this prescription on my way home.”

I smiled as I walked out the door, confident that I had some help with my problem. Sheryl had provided me with a prescription which I would go fill immediately. Was the end in sight for my nightmares? I didn’t know for sure. All I knew was that I had a very smart psychologist who also had an affinity for Hitler and the occult, and who seemed to know an awful lot about what I was going through. Only one thing bothered me though. As I walked out that door, back into my life, I could have sworn I heard Shery say, “Sweet Dreams.”