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A Peak into the Second Ritual
I had changed my clothes, and I now wore the white shift dress. The dress material was thin and even though a fire was blazing in the fireplace I still felt cold.
Luke had rearranged the living room and pushed all the furniture to the sides of the room. A wooden chair, surrounded by burning black candles, stood in the middle of the room. To one side of the candles was a pile of thick rope.
I wrapped my arms around my body and stood in front of him. “I don’t quite understand what’s going to happen.”
“We are calling on the dead.”
I couldn’t keep the horror I was feeling from showing on my face. “And my outfit?”
“Part of the ritual. It’s tradition. Goes back hundreds of years. Something along the lines of a virginal journey into the underworld.”
Like a bride. It sounded twisted. You’d think a guild of people that wear mostly black would be the last group to be sporting white. The color of purity.
What I was doing was far, far from anything pure--from anything that came from the light.
“The dead must be left alone,” my Pa’s voice this time whispering in the corners of my mind. “Don’t get involved with anyone who conjures up the black arts. They’re wicked people Colina.”
Luke didn’t seem wicked, but what did I actually know about the guy. He’d gone into an alley to save an innocent woman. Okay not so innocent, she’d tried to shish kabob him, but as far as he knew he was helping a victim. That meant he was someone with good intentions. He was trying to save his sister. He’d brought me back to life. He was someone on the side of goodness and light. Right?
“Only the blackest souls mess with the dead. The dead should be left alone. It’s sacrilegious the way those people call up the spirits and parade them in front of their kinfolk.” My Pa’s voice again. And with it a memory.
Pa was sitting by the fireplace. It was a week before Christmas, and most of the clan had started making their way to the winter festival. We were leaving in the morning. I was beyond excited. It would be the first time I was allowed to see the magics performed. My mother had promised that, after the New Year, I would begin some of my teachings as a healer. I was fourteen, young, innocent, and the world seemed like a place with so many possibilities. I don’t remember how the discussion moved onto the death dealers, but I remember the way my father’s face had changed when he began talking about them. The look of disgust that filled his eyes at the mention of them.
“And what right do they have? Who made them judge and juror? How can they decide when someone should meet their maker?” my Mama asked.
My Mama’s whole life had been about healing. The death dealers were the antithesis of her very existence. As powerful as she was, there were those she tried to heal that were too far gone, too ill to be healed. And sometimes these surviving souls would call on the death dealer to help them make the transition from this life to the next. To me, it seemed at the time, a kindness to stop their suffering, but my mother corrected me, telling me it was unnatural. Warning me that, by doing it, they were challenging the very balance of things.
I knew those that practiced the blackest forms of the art often sacrificed animals to gain more power for their spells. But I had heard darker rumors. Whisperings that it wasn’t always when the sick were on their death bed that the death dealers took a life. But the rumblings were only rumors. And it was hard for me to imagine anyone trying to practice those most forbidden magics. But now I had to wonder how much of a deterrent the threat of imprisonment was to those with pure evil in their hearts.
And now here I was trying to become a death dealer, something both my parents’ clearly disdained. It wasn’t for the first time that I was questioning my actions. What I was doing was both reckless and insane. Someone should step in and stop me before I made the biggest mistake of my life. But who was left to save me?
Luke had been against it at first, but now he wanted me to become one almost as desperately as I had begged him to be made one. When it comes to blood, people will do crazy things. How far would Luke go to save his sister? How much would he sacrifice?
Luke stood in front of me. “I know traditions sometimes don’t make sense, but the elders have done it this way for centuries. Look, if you’re uncomfortable go back and change into something else.”
Luke had taken my silence for disapproval. But I was willing to follow his direction. “No, I don’t want to buck the system. If this is how it’s done, this is how we’ll do it.” Honestly, the outfit was the least of my worries, what was concerning me most was the rope he was holding. “You aren’t planning on hanging me? We agreed that you aren’t going to try to kill me again.”
“When we call on the dead to come to you, now after the cemetery ritual you’re wide open. Think of yourself as an empty vessel. Like water pours into a cup, a spirit will pour into you.” He continued, “That’s why we aren’t doing this ritual at the cemetery, there are too many souls there waiting to be set free, clamoring over the use of your body, it could overpower you forever. By doing it here, maybe one or two spirits are roaming close by.”
I didn’t like the sound of it. “And what happens to me?”
“You’re still in there. Your spirit and the dead are sharing space. One of the things you’ll learn, with training, is how to stay in control. To make sure the spirit doesn’t over power you.”
I was not liking the sound of this. “And that’s something I’ll learn. Which means this time, the spirit will over power me?”
He nodded his head. “Yes.”
“And the rope?”
“As you train and learn you’ll be able to decide what spirit to let possess you. They’re around, forever floating on the ether sea. When you call them to you, you don’t know who’ll show up. Something with good intentions or something evil. But as you get more practice you’ll be able to discern who’s around you and you’ll be able to choose who to let in.”
“But not this time.”
“No, not this time,” he answered.
“And since I can’t choose something might come and possess me that’s evil?”
He nodded his head. “It’s possible.”
“Terrific,” I mumbled.
Luke smiled and tried to look reassuring. “By tying you to the chair I’m keeping us both safe.”
“How much control will this spirit have over me?”
“Complete. At first it will be able to overpower you, push the very essence of your being back. It will be able to control your mind and your limbs. It will speak through your lips. Move, using your body.”
Being tied up was starting to sound like a good idea. “How will I make the spirit go away?”
“You won’t be strong enough yet to do it all on your own. That’s why I’m here to guide you through the ritual. I’ll be able to help you banish the spirit.”
“And if you can’t?” I asked.
“Don’t worry, I can.”
I was starting to understand why so few people went into death arts. You had to be more than a little bit insane to agree to be first killed and then possessed.
I looked over at Luke and wondered why he’d chosen this life. “You never had the urge to turn your back on the family tradition and become a baker or a mechanic?”
A ghost of a smile flashed across his face. “No.”
“And how did your first possession go?”
“It’s different for each person,” he answered.
“But for you, what was it like?”
He looked away. “It was like swimming in the sea against the current. It’s not painful if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I’d had enough of pain. My fingers drifted again to the bruises on my neck.
He noticed my reaction. “The bruises should be gone in a day or two. I promise you can count on me. I’ll keep you safe.”
I sat in the chair, and he tied my hands behind my back with a length of rope. The rope cut into my flesh.
He pulled gently on the knot. “It needs to be tight enough to hold whatever may come through, but if it’s too tight let me know.”
Next, he tied each of my legs to one of the chair legs. And last he attached a length around my waist.
He tugged on the rope again. Satisfied, he moved back in front of me. “How are you doing?”
I nodded my head. “Go ahead. Do it. Let’s get this over with.”
He walked over and opened the drapes and then slid open the window. He then went over and flicked off the lights. The candles glowed in the dark. He took out a piece of red chalk from his pocket and leaned over and began to draw a symbol on the floor. It was a pentagram surrounded by a triangle. At each point he drew words I didn’t recognize.
He looked up and saw me watching him. “Latin. I’m not sure what’ll be coming through. It’s getting closer to a dark moon and that sometimes makes the spirits stronger. I want to be prepared for whatever comes.”
“You’re drawing a protection circle?”
“Not just for protection. It also amps up my abilities. Focuses them, allows me to be at my strongest.” He went back to drawing. He finished the circle and then slowly etched out a phoenix to one side of it. When he was done, he stood up and wiped the chalk from his hands onto his pants. “Ready?” he asked.
No, I would never be ready to be possessed by spirits. But we were here, and I was committed. Or should be committed, I thought wryly. This was crazy. I took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”
“Goddess protect me,” I said the prayer under my breath.
He walked over and picked up a leather bound book. He flipped open the book and looked up at me. “Here we go.” He started to read from the book. Latin flew from his mouth.
Some of the words I recognized. I had been given some lessons in Latin, but I had forgotten most of it. Yet there seemed to be words that were now whispering in the corner of my memory.
“Animus,” he said the word for spirit. He raised his arms and shouted out, “ex vita abire!”
Which was something about death. And as the last word left his lips a light began to form by the window.
At first I thought that it was a trick of my eyes. The shadows from the candles flickering against the ceiling and the floor. But these shadows were moving. They were coming at me. I didn’t bother to stifle my horrified scream, as the shadows stretched out and rushed toward me.
I was drowning. It felt like my body was being sucked down into a whirlpool of darkness. The worst part, I suddenly realized I was not alone. There was something there in the darkness with me. I could feel its presence. It was close, watching and waiting. I tried pushing myself to the surface and, for a brief moment, I broke free and felt myself rising up. Then something grabbed me and started to pull me back down. I kicked, and I struggled but to no avail. Whatever was holding me, its grip was too strong.
Then all movement stopped, and I found myself in a small, grey place. I could no longer feel my body, but I could hear voices. My ears strained to make sense of the words.
The conversation was garbled at first, but then it became clearer. I realized in horror that it was my voice speaking. But then again it wasn’t my voice, it didn’t sound like me. It was a voice coming from my lips, I realized, but something had possession of my body. Something was working my lips and vocal cords, and at the realization, I felt myself fall further into the oblivion.
“Good evening death dealer.”
Luke’s voice answered, “Who are you?”
“You want to know my name? We both know there’s power in a name.”
“Who are you?” This time Luke’s voice was louder, more commanding.
“I’m Wanda Branston. There you forced it out of me. Aren’t you proud? What a nice looking young man you are. I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. If you let me keep this one, I promise to do your bidding.”
“You will leave her when I tell you,” Luke sounded angry.
“Will I? Do you think you’re strong enough to make me go? We’ll see. But if you let me stay, you can have a greater power than you do now. I see those you keep with you. The spirits that you’ve harnessed to do your bidding. I could be one of them, or better yet, let me keep this body. Let me once again roam the earth.”
“Colina, can you hear me?” Luke’s voice called out to me.
I could hear his voice, but I couldn’t respond. I was in this small, dark, place, alone and frightened.
“Colina, you have to fight, bring yourself to the surface. You’re stronger than the spirit.”
“Is she boy?” Wanda’s voice spoke. “Do you really think this youngling is going to be able to break free?”
“Colina, focus on my voice. Center your thoughts all on my voice. I know you’re feeling fear right now, and that’s what the spirit feeds on. Break the fear and find yourself again, and you’ll regain control.”
And as he said the last words I felt the presence move closer to me, and I heard a wicked giggle next to me. It was all in my imagination. I wasn’t in a small, dark space--my body was tied to a chair in a room. I tried to force the panic and fear away or at least to gain control of it.
I’m not afraid. Luke will make sure I’m not hurt. As the words echoed in my mind, I felt the presence edge further away.
I can do this. I can break the surface and regain myself. I struggled, and struggled some more, but it felt like I was wrapped in cotton candy.
Luke’s voice spoke out again. “Is there anything you want to tell me before I banish you Spirit?”
Wanda answered with a cackle, “What? Kind words for my loved ones? Maybe a secret I could share with them or you? Is that what you think I’ll do? Be grateful for your passing my words onto the living and then I’ll leave quietly. That’s what you hope for isn’t it boy? But I won’t go. I won’t, do you hear me! I’m here, breathing this fresh air.
Smelling the, what’s that, yes jasmine in the air. I love the smell of jasmine. And the stars. The way they glimmer in the night sky. I miss living.”
“You can’t stay. You can’t have this body,” Luke said.
“But why not? I beat others to get to it. Finders, keepers! It’s a strong body, a young body. It’s mine now and I won’t give it up!”
“You don’t have a choice.” More Latin words. Luke was working a spell.
“Stop, stop I say. You can’t make me go!” Wanda screamed.
In the darkness suddenly there was a small glimmer of colored lights. The lights expanded and as they did I tried to reach out to them. But before I could, the presence was there beside me again. It spoke not from outside, but the voice this time was now inside my head. “I won’t go! You hear me girly. I’m not leaving again!”
As the voice spoke, I realized in horror that there wasn’t just one presence near me. I felt other things. There was no sound or physical shapes, just movement and gray swirls of what? Something in the blackness was near me. I suddenly felt like a deer in the woods being hunted by wolves. There was something out there worse than Wanda. Something out there waiting and hungry. I was so small and vulnerable, and any moment it would reach out and grab me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Fear raced through me. A panic I had never felt before gripped me and I tried to cry out.
“Colina,” Luke’s voice again. “You have to break free. I can’t do this without your help.”
And if he couldn’t do this would I be stuck forever in this small corner of what…where was I? Darkness, emptiness. Was this hell? Was this the ether sea?
Wanda’s voice inside my head cried out, “No girly this isn’t the other side. And it ain’t heaven neither. No loved ones surrounding you. I’ve tried to go to the light, I have, but I can’t seem to get there. It beckons to me, but every time I move its way it disappears. So here I am, floating around. But now I have a chance. I have you. You’ve given me a chance to be alive again. To live in the outside world. You just be a good girly and stay put.”
No. the word resounded inside me. I wouldn’t be forced into this corner of darkness forever. Luke was waiting for me out there.
You won’t hold me here. I’ll break free. As I said the words in my head, I felt the panic and fear start to ebb away.
Luke said fear fueled the possessing spirit. The more scared I was the stronger it became. I had to be brave. I had to trust that he could get me out. I could do this. I forced myself to concentrate on the lights again. I reached out with my mind and my being. I could do this. I would do this.
“You can’t. Stop fighting. Just give in and let me stay.” Wanda’s voice sounded weaker now.
No. This time when the word echoed through my mind I felt myself rise. I felt the presence shrink back. Wanda was no longer controlling me, but as she left I felt something else move in to take her place. Something bigger and darker. There was no voice, no personality trying to overcome, just desperate anger. It seeped inside me, a cold anger filling me up. I felt as if I was drowning. I fell back into that small, empty place again, but this time there was a light, a bright light that seemed to be coming, not from outside, but from within. The light began to dim, and I reached out to it. It grew brighter, and suddenly it was like I was pulled from the dark waters, I broke the surface and gasped in a breath of air.
I was back in my body. My head was throbbing, my chest was pounding, but I was back in the chair. I felt the ropes digging into my flesh. I felt a cramp in my left leg. I let out a cry of relief and Luke was beside me.
“Colina?” He whispered my name and looked into my eyes.
“It’s me,” the words came out a sob.
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Luke had rearranged the living room and pushed all the furniture to the sides of the room. A wooden chair, surrounded by burning black candles, stood in the middle of the room. To one side of the candles was a pile of thick rope.
I wrapped my arms around my body and stood in front of him. “I don’t quite understand what’s going to happen.”
“We are calling on the dead.”
I couldn’t keep the horror I was feeling from showing on my face. “And my outfit?”
“Part of the ritual. It’s tradition. Goes back hundreds of years. Something along the lines of a virginal journey into the underworld.”
Like a bride. It sounded twisted. You’d think a guild of people that wear mostly black would be the last group to be sporting white. The color of purity.
What I was doing was far, far from anything pure--from anything that came from the light.
“The dead must be left alone,” my Pa’s voice this time whispering in the corners of my mind. “Don’t get involved with anyone who conjures up the black arts. They’re wicked people Colina.”
Luke didn’t seem wicked, but what did I actually know about the guy. He’d gone into an alley to save an innocent woman. Okay not so innocent, she’d tried to shish kabob him, but as far as he knew he was helping a victim. That meant he was someone with good intentions. He was trying to save his sister. He’d brought me back to life. He was someone on the side of goodness and light. Right?
“Only the blackest souls mess with the dead. The dead should be left alone. It’s sacrilegious the way those people call up the spirits and parade them in front of their kinfolk.” My Pa’s voice again. And with it a memory.
Pa was sitting by the fireplace. It was a week before Christmas, and most of the clan had started making their way to the winter festival. We were leaving in the morning. I was beyond excited. It would be the first time I was allowed to see the magics performed. My mother had promised that, after the New Year, I would begin some of my teachings as a healer. I was fourteen, young, innocent, and the world seemed like a place with so many possibilities. I don’t remember how the discussion moved onto the death dealers, but I remember the way my father’s face had changed when he began talking about them. The look of disgust that filled his eyes at the mention of them.
“And what right do they have? Who made them judge and juror? How can they decide when someone should meet their maker?” my Mama asked.
My Mama’s whole life had been about healing. The death dealers were the antithesis of her very existence. As powerful as she was, there were those she tried to heal that were too far gone, too ill to be healed. And sometimes these surviving souls would call on the death dealer to help them make the transition from this life to the next. To me, it seemed at the time, a kindness to stop their suffering, but my mother corrected me, telling me it was unnatural. Warning me that, by doing it, they were challenging the very balance of things.
I knew those that practiced the blackest forms of the art often sacrificed animals to gain more power for their spells. But I had heard darker rumors. Whisperings that it wasn’t always when the sick were on their death bed that the death dealers took a life. But the rumblings were only rumors. And it was hard for me to imagine anyone trying to practice those most forbidden magics. But now I had to wonder how much of a deterrent the threat of imprisonment was to those with pure evil in their hearts.
And now here I was trying to become a death dealer, something both my parents’ clearly disdained. It wasn’t for the first time that I was questioning my actions. What I was doing was both reckless and insane. Someone should step in and stop me before I made the biggest mistake of my life. But who was left to save me?
Luke had been against it at first, but now he wanted me to become one almost as desperately as I had begged him to be made one. When it comes to blood, people will do crazy things. How far would Luke go to save his sister? How much would he sacrifice?
Luke stood in front of me. “I know traditions sometimes don’t make sense, but the elders have done it this way for centuries. Look, if you’re uncomfortable go back and change into something else.”
Luke had taken my silence for disapproval. But I was willing to follow his direction. “No, I don’t want to buck the system. If this is how it’s done, this is how we’ll do it.” Honestly, the outfit was the least of my worries, what was concerning me most was the rope he was holding. “You aren’t planning on hanging me? We agreed that you aren’t going to try to kill me again.”
“When we call on the dead to come to you, now after the cemetery ritual you’re wide open. Think of yourself as an empty vessel. Like water pours into a cup, a spirit will pour into you.” He continued, “That’s why we aren’t doing this ritual at the cemetery, there are too many souls there waiting to be set free, clamoring over the use of your body, it could overpower you forever. By doing it here, maybe one or two spirits are roaming close by.”
I didn’t like the sound of it. “And what happens to me?”
“You’re still in there. Your spirit and the dead are sharing space. One of the things you’ll learn, with training, is how to stay in control. To make sure the spirit doesn’t over power you.”
I was not liking the sound of this. “And that’s something I’ll learn. Which means this time, the spirit will over power me?”
He nodded his head. “Yes.”
“And the rope?”
“As you train and learn you’ll be able to decide what spirit to let possess you. They’re around, forever floating on the ether sea. When you call them to you, you don’t know who’ll show up. Something with good intentions or something evil. But as you get more practice you’ll be able to discern who’s around you and you’ll be able to choose who to let in.”
“But not this time.”
“No, not this time,” he answered.
“And since I can’t choose something might come and possess me that’s evil?”
He nodded his head. “It’s possible.”
“Terrific,” I mumbled.
Luke smiled and tried to look reassuring. “By tying you to the chair I’m keeping us both safe.”
“How much control will this spirit have over me?”
“Complete. At first it will be able to overpower you, push the very essence of your being back. It will be able to control your mind and your limbs. It will speak through your lips. Move, using your body.”
Being tied up was starting to sound like a good idea. “How will I make the spirit go away?”
“You won’t be strong enough yet to do it all on your own. That’s why I’m here to guide you through the ritual. I’ll be able to help you banish the spirit.”
“And if you can’t?” I asked.
“Don’t worry, I can.”
I was starting to understand why so few people went into death arts. You had to be more than a little bit insane to agree to be first killed and then possessed.
I looked over at Luke and wondered why he’d chosen this life. “You never had the urge to turn your back on the family tradition and become a baker or a mechanic?”
A ghost of a smile flashed across his face. “No.”
“And how did your first possession go?”
“It’s different for each person,” he answered.
“But for you, what was it like?”
He looked away. “It was like swimming in the sea against the current. It’s not painful if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I’d had enough of pain. My fingers drifted again to the bruises on my neck.
He noticed my reaction. “The bruises should be gone in a day or two. I promise you can count on me. I’ll keep you safe.”
I sat in the chair, and he tied my hands behind my back with a length of rope. The rope cut into my flesh.
He pulled gently on the knot. “It needs to be tight enough to hold whatever may come through, but if it’s too tight let me know.”
Next, he tied each of my legs to one of the chair legs. And last he attached a length around my waist.
He tugged on the rope again. Satisfied, he moved back in front of me. “How are you doing?”
I nodded my head. “Go ahead. Do it. Let’s get this over with.”
He walked over and opened the drapes and then slid open the window. He then went over and flicked off the lights. The candles glowed in the dark. He took out a piece of red chalk from his pocket and leaned over and began to draw a symbol on the floor. It was a pentagram surrounded by a triangle. At each point he drew words I didn’t recognize.
He looked up and saw me watching him. “Latin. I’m not sure what’ll be coming through. It’s getting closer to a dark moon and that sometimes makes the spirits stronger. I want to be prepared for whatever comes.”
“You’re drawing a protection circle?”
“Not just for protection. It also amps up my abilities. Focuses them, allows me to be at my strongest.” He went back to drawing. He finished the circle and then slowly etched out a phoenix to one side of it. When he was done, he stood up and wiped the chalk from his hands onto his pants. “Ready?” he asked.
No, I would never be ready to be possessed by spirits. But we were here, and I was committed. Or should be committed, I thought wryly. This was crazy. I took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”
“Goddess protect me,” I said the prayer under my breath.
He walked over and picked up a leather bound book. He flipped open the book and looked up at me. “Here we go.” He started to read from the book. Latin flew from his mouth.
Some of the words I recognized. I had been given some lessons in Latin, but I had forgotten most of it. Yet there seemed to be words that were now whispering in the corner of my memory.
“Animus,” he said the word for spirit. He raised his arms and shouted out, “ex vita abire!”
Which was something about death. And as the last word left his lips a light began to form by the window.
At first I thought that it was a trick of my eyes. The shadows from the candles flickering against the ceiling and the floor. But these shadows were moving. They were coming at me. I didn’t bother to stifle my horrified scream, as the shadows stretched out and rushed toward me.
I was drowning. It felt like my body was being sucked down into a whirlpool of darkness. The worst part, I suddenly realized I was not alone. There was something there in the darkness with me. I could feel its presence. It was close, watching and waiting. I tried pushing myself to the surface and, for a brief moment, I broke free and felt myself rising up. Then something grabbed me and started to pull me back down. I kicked, and I struggled but to no avail. Whatever was holding me, its grip was too strong.
Then all movement stopped, and I found myself in a small, grey place. I could no longer feel my body, but I could hear voices. My ears strained to make sense of the words.
The conversation was garbled at first, but then it became clearer. I realized in horror that it was my voice speaking. But then again it wasn’t my voice, it didn’t sound like me. It was a voice coming from my lips, I realized, but something had possession of my body. Something was working my lips and vocal cords, and at the realization, I felt myself fall further into the oblivion.
“Good evening death dealer.”
Luke’s voice answered, “Who are you?”
“You want to know my name? We both know there’s power in a name.”
“Who are you?” This time Luke’s voice was louder, more commanding.
“I’m Wanda Branston. There you forced it out of me. Aren’t you proud? What a nice looking young man you are. I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. If you let me keep this one, I promise to do your bidding.”
“You will leave her when I tell you,” Luke sounded angry.
“Will I? Do you think you’re strong enough to make me go? We’ll see. But if you let me stay, you can have a greater power than you do now. I see those you keep with you. The spirits that you’ve harnessed to do your bidding. I could be one of them, or better yet, let me keep this body. Let me once again roam the earth.”
“Colina, can you hear me?” Luke’s voice called out to me.
I could hear his voice, but I couldn’t respond. I was in this small, dark, place, alone and frightened.
“Colina, you have to fight, bring yourself to the surface. You’re stronger than the spirit.”
“Is she boy?” Wanda’s voice spoke. “Do you really think this youngling is going to be able to break free?”
“Colina, focus on my voice. Center your thoughts all on my voice. I know you’re feeling fear right now, and that’s what the spirit feeds on. Break the fear and find yourself again, and you’ll regain control.”
And as he said the last words I felt the presence move closer to me, and I heard a wicked giggle next to me. It was all in my imagination. I wasn’t in a small, dark space--my body was tied to a chair in a room. I tried to force the panic and fear away or at least to gain control of it.
I’m not afraid. Luke will make sure I’m not hurt. As the words echoed in my mind, I felt the presence edge further away.
I can do this. I can break the surface and regain myself. I struggled, and struggled some more, but it felt like I was wrapped in cotton candy.
Luke’s voice spoke out again. “Is there anything you want to tell me before I banish you Spirit?”
Wanda answered with a cackle, “What? Kind words for my loved ones? Maybe a secret I could share with them or you? Is that what you think I’ll do? Be grateful for your passing my words onto the living and then I’ll leave quietly. That’s what you hope for isn’t it boy? But I won’t go. I won’t, do you hear me! I’m here, breathing this fresh air.
Smelling the, what’s that, yes jasmine in the air. I love the smell of jasmine. And the stars. The way they glimmer in the night sky. I miss living.”
“You can’t stay. You can’t have this body,” Luke said.
“But why not? I beat others to get to it. Finders, keepers! It’s a strong body, a young body. It’s mine now and I won’t give it up!”
“You don’t have a choice.” More Latin words. Luke was working a spell.
“Stop, stop I say. You can’t make me go!” Wanda screamed.
In the darkness suddenly there was a small glimmer of colored lights. The lights expanded and as they did I tried to reach out to them. But before I could, the presence was there beside me again. It spoke not from outside, but the voice this time was now inside my head. “I won’t go! You hear me girly. I’m not leaving again!”
As the voice spoke, I realized in horror that there wasn’t just one presence near me. I felt other things. There was no sound or physical shapes, just movement and gray swirls of what? Something in the blackness was near me. I suddenly felt like a deer in the woods being hunted by wolves. There was something out there worse than Wanda. Something out there waiting and hungry. I was so small and vulnerable, and any moment it would reach out and grab me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Fear raced through me. A panic I had never felt before gripped me and I tried to cry out.
“Colina,” Luke’s voice again. “You have to break free. I can’t do this without your help.”
And if he couldn’t do this would I be stuck forever in this small corner of what…where was I? Darkness, emptiness. Was this hell? Was this the ether sea?
Wanda’s voice inside my head cried out, “No girly this isn’t the other side. And it ain’t heaven neither. No loved ones surrounding you. I’ve tried to go to the light, I have, but I can’t seem to get there. It beckons to me, but every time I move its way it disappears. So here I am, floating around. But now I have a chance. I have you. You’ve given me a chance to be alive again. To live in the outside world. You just be a good girly and stay put.”
No. the word resounded inside me. I wouldn’t be forced into this corner of darkness forever. Luke was waiting for me out there.
You won’t hold me here. I’ll break free. As I said the words in my head, I felt the panic and fear start to ebb away.
Luke said fear fueled the possessing spirit. The more scared I was the stronger it became. I had to be brave. I had to trust that he could get me out. I could do this. I forced myself to concentrate on the lights again. I reached out with my mind and my being. I could do this. I would do this.
“You can’t. Stop fighting. Just give in and let me stay.” Wanda’s voice sounded weaker now.
No. This time when the word echoed through my mind I felt myself rise. I felt the presence shrink back. Wanda was no longer controlling me, but as she left I felt something else move in to take her place. Something bigger and darker. There was no voice, no personality trying to overcome, just desperate anger. It seeped inside me, a cold anger filling me up. I felt as if I was drowning. I fell back into that small, empty place again, but this time there was a light, a bright light that seemed to be coming, not from outside, but from within. The light began to dim, and I reached out to it. It grew brighter, and suddenly it was like I was pulled from the dark waters, I broke the surface and gasped in a breath of air.
I was back in my body. My head was throbbing, my chest was pounding, but I was back in the chair. I felt the ropes digging into my flesh. I felt a cramp in my left leg. I let out a cry of relief and Luke was beside me.
“Colina?” He whispered my name and looked into my eyes.
“It’s me,” the words came out a sob.
Awakening - Romance, ghosts and a couple zombies. Plot twists & turns on a wild YA Horror adventure.
Get your copy today for only 99 cents!Awakening
A Peak into Possession
My eyes opened. There was something in the room--I was not alone. I raised my head and realized someone was standing at the foot of my bed. It took my sleep fogged brain a moment to comprehend that what I was looking at--the dark shape standing only a few feet away was not a living creature. Moonlight shone through the window and I realized I could see through the blackness. I could make out the wall and door on the other side of whatever it was.
A sound of surprise left my lips and, as it did, the shape moved. I felt the weight of something sit down on my bed. My mind was screaming at me to move, to run, but I found I was frozen in place. I was afraid, but something else was holding me immobile.
The weight shifted on the bed. The shadow moved again. The thing on the bed was leaning toward me, and then it was on me. I could feel its weight crawl over my legs. I could feel it wiggle against my stomach and then it slid over my chest. And that’s when the pressure began at my neck. I suddenly couldn’t breathe.
I tried to open my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. I tried to take in a deep breath, but before I could, the pressure around my throat increased. The world around me started to narrow in, and as it did a burst of images raced across my mind.
It was cold. I was lying on a grave, and a guy was straddling my body, his hands wrapped around my throat. I could feel his fingers digging into my skin. I was dying. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to pull his hands away, and when that didn’t work, I reached out to scratch his face, but he moved back. He was killing me. His eyes blazed into mine--they were dark eyes, full of what? I expected to see hatred and anger, but instead they were full of fear. He was afraid for me. He didn’t want to hurt me. Luke. The name rang through my head as I began to fall and tumble into the darkness.
I was alone, in a great expansion of black. It was a cloud that surrounded me. The cloud expanded and there was a large, dark abyss that opened up before me like a great chasm. And from within its depths I heard voices and sounds. Unnatural laughter and then something more primal. A growling. A pair of red eyes appeared within the ink black. They started to move closer. There was a louder noise this time, like an animal chewing and gnashing its teeth. I heard a scream, and then another. A voice floated across my mind, “Not yet. What I want from you, you can’t give. Not yet. But soon.”
And then there was a shout, and lights blazed overhead. The pressure eased up, and I sucked in a breath and then another. I could breathe. I sat up and blinked, trying to make sense of what just happened.
The old woman came into the room. Her white hair swinging wildly back and forth as she shouted at me, “Didn’t you put any salt across the thresholds?”
I shook my head. I had thought the guy at dinner was just being crazy when he told me about the ghosts and the salt.
But it wasn’t my imagination, she had seen the creature. That thing that had just tried to strangle me was real.
She came over and peered down at me. “Sea salt works best, but you can’t get it in this place.”
My hands went to my throat. The skin felt tender and bruised.
She pulled my hands away and inspected me. “Choking ghosts are the worst.”
“Choking ghosts?” My voice came out in harsh rasp.
“You’ll live.” She straightened up and looked around the room. “They’re always full of so much anger.” Something jingled at her side. A large metal key chain with two keys hung out of the pocket of her blue robe. She noticed me looking. “Oh those.” She tucked the keys back into the pocket. “I've got a master key to the place.” She giggled. “But the doctors and nurses don’t know. This place is a ghost town at night.” She laughed louder this time as she realized the unintentional joke she made. “The night staff barely makes rounds. They spend all their time sleeping at the front desk. I’ve never been much of a sleeper, especially during the witching hour, too much activity going on. I like to roam around, keep myself busy.” She walked over to the window and looked out. “The witching hour, from midnight until three am. It’s the busiest time of the night for the spirits. I think it’s because it’s easier for them to get noticed by most when it’s quieter out. When the world is in a cocoon of sleep. When they can draw power from the dreams of the living.”
“You said that ghost was a choking ghost. Could the ghost have killed me?”
“Could’ve. It’s happened before. I read somewhere that they've got a lot of choking ghosts in fire stations on the island of Hawaii.” When I didn’t say anything she continued. “I guess there isn’t a lot of public land available, so fire stations get built over old cemeteries. I’d never seen a choking ghost before I came to this place. It’s best if you protect yourself.”
She reached into her other pocket and pulled out a blue velvet bag tied at the top with black leather. She walked over next to me and spilled the contents of the bag on the bed.
They looked like little stones with symbols on them. My hand reached out to touch one, but something made me hesitate.
“It’s okay you can touch them. They’re runes. Runes aren’t like tarot cards. Now try to touch someone’s deck of tarot and they’ll have a fit. The cards hold people’s vibrations, a bit of their power.” She picked up a rune and bounced it up and down in her palm. “But these don’t hold any power. Unless you make a charm with them. Mostly you use them to focus your abilities, like with crystals and medallions.”
She held the stone up to me. “See each symbol? Each character is one of the runic alphabet. I’ve shown them to you before, but you don’t remember. Wonder if you’ll ever get your memory back?” She put the stone back in the pile. “They’re old Norse. Odin used them. Have you heard the poem?” She started to sing. “I know a twelfth one if I see, up in a tree, a dangling corpse in a noose, I can so carve and color the runes, that the man walks, and talks with me.” She looked down at me. “You never heard it? Well if you did, you probably couldn’t remember right now. They say the runes have the power to bring that which is dead back to life. Never seen them used that way before, most use them as a divining tool. To tell fortunes, to see your future.”
She gathered the pieces together and poured them back into the bag and then she shook the bag a couple times and then turned it over and dropped the stones back onto the bed. “You draw lots. To tell fortunes.” She started flipping a few of them over. “But you can also use them to make charms. See this one.” She held one up, drawn in the middle of it was a line and then branching off at the top of the line were two smaller lines, one on the left and one on the right. It looked like a stick figure with its arms stretched out. “This one is for protection. Algiz, the Rune of Protection. Until you get some salt tomorrow, I’d better make you something. People’s feet brush the salt away, or a bit of a breeze and poof it’s gone. It’s best to sprinkle a bit of the stuff over your threshold and window sill every night, just to be safe.” She reached over and grabbed the covers and pulled them down. Before I could react she grabbed the hem of my hospital gown and turned it over.
She reached up to the back of her collar and pulled out a sewing needle. “Don’t worry old Mildred will make it right. They don’t allow sharp objects in here.” She laughed. “But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. The place is a lot like a prison. You know how you watch those movies and the prisoners are always bartering or bribing with the guards to get stuff? Last month one of the night nurses she wanted me to do a love spell for her. A guy she fell hard for that wasn’t noticing her. Two love birds kissing in a tree. K I S S I N G,” She sang out. “I got two handfuls of chocolate bars for doing that bit of magic. I’d share, but they’re all gone.”
She reached out and grabbed my finger and before I could pull it back she pricked it with the needle. Speechless I watched as she squeezed my finger hard until a drop of blood came to the surface. She lifted the blood with the needle and used the needle like a pen and started to draw the symbol for protection onto the inside of my white gown. She mumbled some words, too low for me to make out, dropped my gown and took a step back.
Mildred looked very pleased with herself. “The choking ghosts never used to bother you. But I guess your different now, with your memory sucked away. When I’ve got more time I can make you a charm you can wear around your neck and put under your pillow at night if you need it. But this will do for now.
An Excerpt from Possession - The Dark Rituals Book 2
A sound of surprise left my lips and, as it did, the shape moved. I felt the weight of something sit down on my bed. My mind was screaming at me to move, to run, but I found I was frozen in place. I was afraid, but something else was holding me immobile.
The weight shifted on the bed. The shadow moved again. The thing on the bed was leaning toward me, and then it was on me. I could feel its weight crawl over my legs. I could feel it wiggle against my stomach and then it slid over my chest. And that’s when the pressure began at my neck. I suddenly couldn’t breathe.
I tried to open my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. I tried to take in a deep breath, but before I could, the pressure around my throat increased. The world around me started to narrow in, and as it did a burst of images raced across my mind.
It was cold. I was lying on a grave, and a guy was straddling my body, his hands wrapped around my throat. I could feel his fingers digging into my skin. I was dying. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to pull his hands away, and when that didn’t work, I reached out to scratch his face, but he moved back. He was killing me. His eyes blazed into mine--they were dark eyes, full of what? I expected to see hatred and anger, but instead they were full of fear. He was afraid for me. He didn’t want to hurt me. Luke. The name rang through my head as I began to fall and tumble into the darkness.
I was alone, in a great expansion of black. It was a cloud that surrounded me. The cloud expanded and there was a large, dark abyss that opened up before me like a great chasm. And from within its depths I heard voices and sounds. Unnatural laughter and then something more primal. A growling. A pair of red eyes appeared within the ink black. They started to move closer. There was a louder noise this time, like an animal chewing and gnashing its teeth. I heard a scream, and then another. A voice floated across my mind, “Not yet. What I want from you, you can’t give. Not yet. But soon.”
And then there was a shout, and lights blazed overhead. The pressure eased up, and I sucked in a breath and then another. I could breathe. I sat up and blinked, trying to make sense of what just happened.
The old woman came into the room. Her white hair swinging wildly back and forth as she shouted at me, “Didn’t you put any salt across the thresholds?”
I shook my head. I had thought the guy at dinner was just being crazy when he told me about the ghosts and the salt.
But it wasn’t my imagination, she had seen the creature. That thing that had just tried to strangle me was real.
She came over and peered down at me. “Sea salt works best, but you can’t get it in this place.”
My hands went to my throat. The skin felt tender and bruised.
She pulled my hands away and inspected me. “Choking ghosts are the worst.”
“Choking ghosts?” My voice came out in harsh rasp.
“You’ll live.” She straightened up and looked around the room. “They’re always full of so much anger.” Something jingled at her side. A large metal key chain with two keys hung out of the pocket of her blue robe. She noticed me looking. “Oh those.” She tucked the keys back into the pocket. “I've got a master key to the place.” She giggled. “But the doctors and nurses don’t know. This place is a ghost town at night.” She laughed louder this time as she realized the unintentional joke she made. “The night staff barely makes rounds. They spend all their time sleeping at the front desk. I’ve never been much of a sleeper, especially during the witching hour, too much activity going on. I like to roam around, keep myself busy.” She walked over to the window and looked out. “The witching hour, from midnight until three am. It’s the busiest time of the night for the spirits. I think it’s because it’s easier for them to get noticed by most when it’s quieter out. When the world is in a cocoon of sleep. When they can draw power from the dreams of the living.”
“You said that ghost was a choking ghost. Could the ghost have killed me?”
“Could’ve. It’s happened before. I read somewhere that they've got a lot of choking ghosts in fire stations on the island of Hawaii.” When I didn’t say anything she continued. “I guess there isn’t a lot of public land available, so fire stations get built over old cemeteries. I’d never seen a choking ghost before I came to this place. It’s best if you protect yourself.”
She reached into her other pocket and pulled out a blue velvet bag tied at the top with black leather. She walked over next to me and spilled the contents of the bag on the bed.
They looked like little stones with symbols on them. My hand reached out to touch one, but something made me hesitate.
“It’s okay you can touch them. They’re runes. Runes aren’t like tarot cards. Now try to touch someone’s deck of tarot and they’ll have a fit. The cards hold people’s vibrations, a bit of their power.” She picked up a rune and bounced it up and down in her palm. “But these don’t hold any power. Unless you make a charm with them. Mostly you use them to focus your abilities, like with crystals and medallions.”
She held the stone up to me. “See each symbol? Each character is one of the runic alphabet. I’ve shown them to you before, but you don’t remember. Wonder if you’ll ever get your memory back?” She put the stone back in the pile. “They’re old Norse. Odin used them. Have you heard the poem?” She started to sing. “I know a twelfth one if I see, up in a tree, a dangling corpse in a noose, I can so carve and color the runes, that the man walks, and talks with me.” She looked down at me. “You never heard it? Well if you did, you probably couldn’t remember right now. They say the runes have the power to bring that which is dead back to life. Never seen them used that way before, most use them as a divining tool. To tell fortunes, to see your future.”
She gathered the pieces together and poured them back into the bag and then she shook the bag a couple times and then turned it over and dropped the stones back onto the bed. “You draw lots. To tell fortunes.” She started flipping a few of them over. “But you can also use them to make charms. See this one.” She held one up, drawn in the middle of it was a line and then branching off at the top of the line were two smaller lines, one on the left and one on the right. It looked like a stick figure with its arms stretched out. “This one is for protection. Algiz, the Rune of Protection. Until you get some salt tomorrow, I’d better make you something. People’s feet brush the salt away, or a bit of a breeze and poof it’s gone. It’s best to sprinkle a bit of the stuff over your threshold and window sill every night, just to be safe.” She reached over and grabbed the covers and pulled them down. Before I could react she grabbed the hem of my hospital gown and turned it over.
She reached up to the back of her collar and pulled out a sewing needle. “Don’t worry old Mildred will make it right. They don’t allow sharp objects in here.” She laughed. “But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. The place is a lot like a prison. You know how you watch those movies and the prisoners are always bartering or bribing with the guards to get stuff? Last month one of the night nurses she wanted me to do a love spell for her. A guy she fell hard for that wasn’t noticing her. Two love birds kissing in a tree. K I S S I N G,” She sang out. “I got two handfuls of chocolate bars for doing that bit of magic. I’d share, but they’re all gone.”
She reached out and grabbed my finger and before I could pull it back she pricked it with the needle. Speechless I watched as she squeezed my finger hard until a drop of blood came to the surface. She lifted the blood with the needle and used the needle like a pen and started to draw the symbol for protection onto the inside of my white gown. She mumbled some words, too low for me to make out, dropped my gown and took a step back.
Mildred looked very pleased with herself. “The choking ghosts never used to bother you. But I guess your different now, with your memory sucked away. When I’ve got more time I can make you a charm you can wear around your neck and put under your pillow at night if you need it. But this will do for now.
An Excerpt from Possession - The Dark Rituals Book 2
What they are saying about The Dark Rituals Series
What they are saying about Awakening –
“This is one of the most action packed books I’ve read so far this summer, it was very much a fantastic read all round.” Goodreads Reviewer Rebecca - Read full review - http://tinyurl.com/mwjbx6o
“I loved this, the romance, the powerful magic, the heroism and the revenge all mixed wonderfully, I really liked Luke, he is the perfect book crush, he is definitely going on my Ficional boyfriends list :).” Goodreads Reviewer Hannah - Read full review - http://tinyurl.com/omfa2re
What they are saying about Possession –
“This book is the second in the series, and was even better than the first! I loved the setting. I loved the characters, and I definitely loved the storyline. In case you didn’t guess… I loved it all!” Goodreads Reviewer Natalie - Read full review - http://tinyurl.com/nl2prqm
“Some parts of this book were pretty scary. I kept thinking that I needed to put it down as it got later and later here (I finished this about 3.40am), but I couldn't bring myself to put it down. I felt I had to keep reading to find out what was going to happen.” – Goodreads Reviewer Sarah - Read full review -http://tinyurl.com/nraqbpo
The Dark Rituals – Book 1 & 2 only 99 cents each at Amazon. Get your spook on! http://tinyurl.com/o9caybf
“This is one of the most action packed books I’ve read so far this summer, it was very much a fantastic read all round.” Goodreads Reviewer Rebecca - Read full review - http://tinyurl.com/mwjbx6o
“I loved this, the romance, the powerful magic, the heroism and the revenge all mixed wonderfully, I really liked Luke, he is the perfect book crush, he is definitely going on my Ficional boyfriends list :).” Goodreads Reviewer Hannah - Read full review - http://tinyurl.com/omfa2re
What they are saying about Possession –
“This book is the second in the series, and was even better than the first! I loved the setting. I loved the characters, and I definitely loved the storyline. In case you didn’t guess… I loved it all!” Goodreads Reviewer Natalie - Read full review - http://tinyurl.com/nl2prqm
“Some parts of this book were pretty scary. I kept thinking that I needed to put it down as it got later and later here (I finished this about 3.40am), but I couldn't bring myself to put it down. I felt I had to keep reading to find out what was going to happen.” – Goodreads Reviewer Sarah - Read full review -http://tinyurl.com/nraqbpo
The Dark Rituals – Book 1 & 2 only 99 cents each at Amazon. Get your spook on! http://tinyurl.com/o9caybf
Haven’t read a YA Parnormal/Horror yet? Look at all the spooky fun you're missing!!
Here’s the first chapter of Awakening – The Dark Rituals Book 1 for you to scope out.
It won 2014 Wattpad Prize Winner - Best Suspense Story.
If you like the chapter you can download it for free on smashwords - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...
Chapter One
Into the Darkness I Go
“You want to learn the Death Arts?”
The look on his face was hard to read. It couldn’t have been every day that someone wandered into the shop and made such a request.
I tried to look more confident than I felt. He couldn’t tell my hands were slightly trembling inside my jacket pockets, could he? I forced myself to keep my gaze steady and resisted the urge to take to my heels and run out the door.
My Mama always said, “You can always ask, the worst they can do is say no.” But I don’t think Mama was thinking about revenge and murder when she dealt out that piece of homespun advice.
He stood behind the counter and looked about my age--seventeen. He had shoulder length blonde hair and he wore a black tank top sporting a picture of a large red phoenix surrounded by fire.
“I was told the owner of the shop could teach me the Death Arts.”
“I’m sorry, someone’s playing a joke on you. No one here can help you, not with something like that.”
Every wall in the place housed a set of shelves and scattered around the room were waist-high, freestanding glass cases. Statues with menacing faces stared back at me from between leather bound books on the shelves. Every flat surface was crammed full--exquisite bottles filled with colorful liquids, dried herbs, exotic feathers, and cloth pouches tied with ribbon. Mixed in with these harmless looking objects were other things. Misshapen bottles filled with red liquid, probably blood--human, goat or pig, who could tell? In a dark corner, I could make out the shapes of animal skulls. And something else. I leaned forward to get a closer look. What were those small objects hanging from a wooden pole over in the corner? A chill ran down my back as I realized that they were shrunken heads.
A magic shop dimly lit with some of its items peering from the shadows where they hid. Some of the items I’d only seen pictures of, and at another time I would have been tempted to spend a lazy afternoon exploring every nook and cranny in the place. But not today. I was here with a single minded purpose.
I’d anticipated that my request would be met with anger or disbelief, but he seemed almost indifferent. Almost. Those dark eyes had a hint of wariness about them. He might act as though everything was fine and dandy, but I had the impression that, at any moment, I was going to get tossed out on my butt.
“Luke, you know who she means.” A pretty girl with the longest hair I’d ever seen spoke from a doorway behind the counter. Her hair was the color of sweet yellow corn and fell just short of the ground.
“Darla, shut up.”
Darla looked a few years younger than Luke. She had on a long flowing blue skirt covered in yellow flowers and a white bohemian shirt, the sleeves of the shirt trimmed in blue lace.
“You’re looking for my Uncle Franklin. He’s out of town.” She glared at Luke as she came out and took her place next to him. “Ignore my brother. He’s worried you’re a Redeemer.”
Gods, do I look like a Redeemer? Everyone knew about the cult by now. They had started up two years ago--an organization whose members rejected all magic. Most members were innocent enough, but there were fringe sects that not only rejected magic, but sought out anyone who practiced magic for the sole purpose of “cleansing them.”
Five people had been found in the last month, drowned in local lakes, their hands and feet bound by thick rope. Obviously some psychopaths were watching too much of the history channel. Anyone who was a witch would float, and the innocent would drown, according to the old wives’ tale. These crazies proclaimed poor souls who drowned cleared of all charges. Little help it did them, being dead and all.
A group of Redeemers took credit for the deaths, but not in any way law enforcement agencies could track them down. The news reported flyers proclaiming The cleansing has begun, and Redeemers will take back our world, had appeared on various city streets.
How did someone prove they weren’t a nut job on a religious cleansing? “I’m not a Redeemer, I swear.” I tried to look mentally stable. “I was told that you’re death dealers. From the Phoenix Guild.” I looked pointedly at his t-shirt.
Darla laughed. “She’s got you there.” She reached behind the counter, pulled out sticks of incense and held them up. “What do you think? Lavender or Root beer?”
“Root beer.”
She grabbed a box of matches from a nearby shelf, pulled one out and struck it. The flame flickered wildly before she lowered it and carefully lit one of the brown sticks. She held the stick up to her mouth and blew out the flame at the tip. The smoke continued to rise and curled up in swirls around her face.
“Root beer is my favorite.” She smiled and placed the incense down into a carved wooden holder sitting on the counter.
The sweet smell filled the room. Darla pushed the wooden holder to the side and hopped up on the counter. Once settled, she swept the mass of her hair over her right shoulder. It slid down her body like a golden river.
I wondered how long it took her to wash and dry such hair. It had to be heavy and, I’d think, very hot in the summer. I watched, mesmerized as her nimble fingers divided the strands into three large sections and she began to braid it.
“Your uncle, when will he be back?”
Luke didn’t answer, and he was starting to look annoyed. I waited two beats, and when he still didn’t answer I turned to his sister.
She looked up from her braids and watched her brother for a few seconds before answering, “Not for at least two weeks. He’s put us in charge of the store while he’s gone.”
I was desperate--no way could I wait weeks. Chances were if I didn’t get help soon I’d be dead--in days not weeks.
“Can you help me?” I couldn’t help it, my voice trembled a bit.
This time Luke responded. “Help you learn the Dark Arts? So you can what? Take out your frustrations on the world?” He turned to Darla. “I’m betting someone pissed her off. You ever notice that it’s always the angry ones who think they can come and learn our craft? Think they can be taught our art during a weekend course. Why not just buy a gun? Oh, yeah, because guns don’t work on our kind.” He turned his attention back to me. “If you don’t mind me asking, who’s this almighty enemy who pissed you off? Ex-boyfriend? Some clerk at the local mini mart?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
My chin came up, and I looked him straight in the eye when I answered. “I’m not asking you to train me in the deadly arts so I can take out a busload of nuns.”
This proclamation brought a half grin to his face. He wasn’t taking me seriously. In truth I couldn’t blame him, I didn’t look the part. No Goth clothing, no long black trench coat. I wore the uniform of the middle class in my part of town--a striped white and blue sweater covered by a dark sailor jacket, a pair of faded blue jeans, and black Vans.
I was beginning to regret the coat. The moment I entered the store a wall of heat had hit me. It was autumn outside, but someone inside liked to keep things toasty. Small beads of sweat were forming on my forehead. I considered taking off my coat, but the reception I was getting made me think I wouldn’t be staying long.
He slowly took in my appearance. I tried not to wither under the scrutiny. I knew what he saw standing in front of him--a seventeen year old girl with dark brown hair pulled up into a ponytail. I’m not the type to stop traffic. My chin and my forehead were a bit too pronounced thanks to my Scottish heritage. Blunt bangs fringed my forehead, coming to rest above nondescript hazel eyes, and my build--more tomboyish than playboy bunny. Nothing that screamed “look at me”--I blended into a crowd, and that was something I counted on.
“I can pay.” I pulled a wad of bills out of my right jacket pocket. “I understand that you people prefer to work in cash.”
The cash made him frown. Worse, it made him move from behind the big glass counter faster than I could have anticipated. I barely had a chance to take a step back before he reached out and grabbed my arm.
“Who are you?”
He was much bigger up close. I looked up and our eyes locked, and I suddenly lost the ability to speak. He’d seemed amiable enough when I stepped into the shop, but now his whole body language took on a more threatening vibe. Those dark eyes shone, not with anger but… Violence.
Normally a big, pissed-off stranger manhandling me would have freaked me out, but I was past being intimidated. Fear had left the building a few days ago when bullets had been flying and bloody bodies covered the floor. I gave myself a mental shake. I wouldn’t think about that now. I’d lock those images into the deepest, darkest corner of my mind, and maybe one day I would deal with them, but not today. Today I was on a mission. I didn’t have a lot to lose and this guy might be the only one who could give me what I needed most.
I pushed the money at his chest with my free hand. “My name is Colina. You don’t need to know my last name, and if this isn’t enough, name your price.”
His fingers curled around the bills, and he took a step back and let go of my arm.
“You’re serious about this?”
“Yes. If you tell me no, I’ll go find someone else.”
Only problem was there weren’t a lot of people willing to teach outside their guild, and we both knew it.
“You think you can handle learning the black arts?”
I wasn’t sure I could handle it, but I wasn’t about to admit my fear to him. So I kept quiet and nodded.
“Luke, you can’t be serious. You can’t teach her.” Darla had finished braiding her hair--her attention now was on the two of us.
“Stay out of it, Darla!”
“No way Uncle would let you do it!” Her brown eyes blazing with anger, Darla jumped down from the counter and rounded up on him.
He took a step away from her and turned to me. “Have you had any training?”
I lifted the sleeve of my jacket and turned my forearm, revealing the small tattoo of a blue swallow inked into my skin just above my palm.
“You’re a healer.” He couldn’t have sounded more shocked.
I could feel tears starting to form, but I forced them back. “I was.”
“You can’t learn the dark arts. Your people would never allow such a thing.” He frowned. He’d looked on me first with ridicule, then in amusement, and now he was watching me as though I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to work out.
It was true. I’d taken the sacred oath, and if anyone caught me learning the dark arts, let alone using them, I’d be punished, possibly imprisoned. I knew the risk, but I didn’t care.
“Will you teach me?” I knew he could hear the desperation in my voice. I felt it in the very core of my being. My hands were visibly trembling. I’d done a pretty good job of keeping it together until now, but hunger and exhaustion washed over me. I had been on my own, trying to deal with what happened, and it was suddenly all too much. If seeing me fall apart in front of him was the only way to convince him of my sincerity, then I didn’t care if he saw my fear and desperation. He was my last hope. My only chance to stay alive and maybe, if I lived long enough and I got lucky, I would have a chance to take my revenge.
He didn’t answer right away. Darla stood next to him, her eyes wide but her expression unreadable. She watched us both in silence. And as we all stood there, the silence stretched on and on, and all the while Luke’s unyielding dark eyes surveyed me. I had a feeling he was trying to figure me out, he was trying to coax out my secrets, but I knew he couldn’t. Training in my art had given me the necessary skills to defend my thoughts if I needed to.
I pushed down the urge to shift from foot to foot while I waited for an answer. When he finally broke the silence, I physically jumped.
“Come back tomorrow night after midnight.” He pocketed the bills.
“The witching hour.” I said the words through clenched teeth. It was not the response I was expecting. The witching hour was a time when people slept, and the world seemed tranquil, except it was more than that. It wasn’t truly tranquil and safe, not for people like us. For those of us who knew better it could be wild, chaotic and dangerous.
“Yes, the witching hour.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
A shudder went through me. What the heck was I getting myself into?
“Still time to change your mind.” His voice was low.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you? A healer? You’ve seen the life leave a person, watched their energy dissipate into the ether sea, but have you ever called on that same energy? Ever felt its pulse swirling and circling around you? It’s not for the faint of heart.”
What could I say? He was right. I had never called on the spirits. Honestly, I only had an inkling of the type of magic his guild used. I knew that it was the strongest magic. If I was going to survive, if I was going to exact my revenge, it was the magic I needed to learn, no matter the consequences. I had no choice but to head down this road, but that didn’t stop fear and panic from settling into the pit of my stomach.
A phone rang before I could reply. He made his way back around the counter and picked up the receiver and started talking on the phone.
When I had gone looking for a death dealer, I hadn’t been given a name. A piece of paper with an address and a brief description of the shop had been the only things I had to go on. I had made it here in one piece and someone had agreed to teach me. It was a victory, a small one, but I’d take what I could at this point.
I realized I was standing there like an idiot, watching Luke talk on the phone, when I should have been high-tailing it out of there. We’d completed our business. He might have reservations, but he’d taken my money and agreed to teach me. I had no reason to linger. If I hung around he might change his mind, yet there I was--staying and staring.
He was good looking, with piercing eyes and a rugged jaw. He had broad shoulders and a long scar ran down his left shoulder, the end of it lost beneath the black material. I wondered how far the scar ran. At the last thought, I felt a heat rise inside me. My cheeks flushed, and for a moment my heart pounded. I reminded myself that he was a death dealer.
I realized in horror that the phone conversation was over, and he was talking to me, but I had been so caught up in my own thoughts that I had missed everything he said.
I felt a blush spread across my cheeks. Like an idiot I mumbled, “Uh, what?”
“You can’t go back out in the streets.” He looked deadly serious.
“Who’s going to stop me?” I regained my composure, but my voice was more than a bit defensive.
“The Triads. I just got a call from a neighbor. The Triads are hanging out down the block.” He walked around the counter until he stood in front of me. “You’ll have to stay here. At least for a couple hours until the coast is clear.”
No way was I staying. I had gotten what I came for. It was time to leave. The Triads didn’t scare me. I was a healer and even they had a code against harming a healer. But I was no longer a healer, I reminded myself. I was going to delve into the forbidden magics. I was soon to become someone on the fringe of society. No
respectable person mingled with the Phoenix Guild.
A wave of exhaustion suddenly hit me. I grabbed the corner of the closest table to steady myself. Making the decision to come here, forcing him to take me on, had taken all the energy out of me. The anger, the desperation, the determination, it all suddenly evaporated.
“Are you all right?” Darla asked, coming to my side.
The words came out in a harsh whisper. “I’m fine. I skipped a couple meals.”
It had been at least three days since food had passed my mouth. I had forced myself to drink, but every time I had tried to eat the images had come and the nausea had set in.
“I just felt dizzy for a second. There’s no need to make a fuss.” My voice sounded unbelievably weak even to my own ears.
Darla bent down, and her fingers grazed across my forehead. “She’s not okay. Luke, bring her upstairs.”
I began to slump and Luke reached out and put an arm around my waist, supporting me.
I tried to pull myself out of his grip, but he was extremely strong. “You can let me go, I’m okay.”
“Darla, lock up the shop. With the Triads out there, best thing to do is lock up and sit tight until they get bored and move on.” He ignored my protest and began to lead me behind the counter and through a doorway into a small hallway.
I felt like a helpless rag doll in his arms as he moved us along the hall to the foot of a wooden staircase.
“Since you can’t leave, you might as well come upstairs. We haven’t had a chance to eat. We can get some food into you. Can you make it up the stairs?” The harshness had left his voice. He sounded almost kind.
“I’m fine, I just need to…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, the world around me started to fade away.
“Hey, don’t pass out.” He leaned down and lifted me into his arms.
He carried me up the stairs and delivered me across a large room onto a brown couch sitting against a bright red painted wall.
I needed a moment to catch my breath and gather my strength. Showing so much weakness in front of strangers embarrassed me. I had been an idiot to go so long without food. Sleep was something I was not doing a lot of lately. Every time I closed my eyes the nightmares rushed in. It wasn’t surprising my body suddenly rebelled and gave way. I’d lie here for a minute or two, catch my breath, and then head out.
Suddenly he was standing over me. He had a bottle of soda in one hand and two plastic glasses in the other.
He handed over the bottle and the glasses. “We’ve got some cheese and salami in the fridge. Darla picked up some fresh bread at the local bakery this morning.”
What choice did I have? If I kept going this way, I’d end up passed out on the streets.
I looked up at him and forced a smile. “Thanks for the dinner invite. I accept.”
* * * *
The food was good. I ate until I couldn’t take another bite. My coat was now draped next to me on the couch. I leaned back against the leather cushions and relaxed for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime.
My gaze kept going to Luke. There was little resemblance to the imposing figure I had dealt with down in the store-front. Luke relaxed upstairs. He hadn’t said much while we ate, and now he sat back in his chair finishing a bite of bread.
Every time I glanced his way he was looking at me, his stare openly inquisitive.
He was not what I had expected. He didn’t hide like the rest of the members of his guild. People knew about the shop, and they came to it looking for things they needed to work spells. He was wearing a phoenix on his t-shirt for God sakes. This was not a guy trying to keep to the shadows--this was a guy living openly in a society that deeply despised his kind. Did he feel alienated? Did he have friends outside his guild?
And what about his sister, Darla? I wondered if she practiced the arts. She sat quietly finishing off her meal. It was hard to tell if someone possessed magic just by looking at them. Was she also a death dealer? Would the Phoenix Guild initiate someone so young?
I wondered how different her life was from mine. I had become a healer like my mother and her mother before her. The path to becoming a healer did start at fifteen, but at that age I had only learned the basics about plants and medicine. Mama hadn’t allowed me to delve into the magics that went along with healing until I hit my seventeenth birthday. I had started my training three months ago and, in that time, I’d learned as much as I could as fast as I could.
No other career choice had ever entered my mind. It had been taken for granted that I would follow in my family’s footsteps, and honestly I didn’t have any regrets. I especially loved working with plants--being out in the sunshine, my hands pushed into the dirt of mother earth, growing fragile things with care and love, creating medicines to heal the sick. Mixing potions, learning the craft that had been passed down through the generations--there was no part of being a healer that hadn’t made my heart swell with joy and had me leaping out of bed every morning full of excitement. The world had seemed a place of endless possibilities.
But all of that was now behind me, and the path before me was full of shadows and darkness. I was going to become a death dealer, and I didn’t have the faintest idea what kind of lives they led.
I took a good look at my surroundings. I was in a studio apartment, but the space was enormous. A well outfitted kitchen with granite counters and cherry cabinets stood at one side of the room. The middle area had been arranged as a living room and office. A couch lay against the wall on a large patterned rug surrounded by two oversized chairs. To the right of the couch, in front of a row of tall windows, stood a desk with a laptop computer and printer. Next to the desk was a small row of black metal cabinets. On the other side of the room were three large partitions--walls that didn’t quite make it all the way up to the ceiling. Bedrooms, I imagined.
“This is a nice place.” It was an expensive place. Every piece of furniture, every knickknack, screamed money.
“It’s my uncle’s.” Luke leaned forward and put his plate down on an old blue steamer trunk which served as a table for our meal. “Are you going to tell us what brought you here?”
“Good food, terrific soda, what’s not to like?” My answer brought a scowl to his face, but I wasn’t going to be intimidated. I was the one paying for his services, and I wasn’t about to fill him in on the details of my life. “My understanding is that your type of work comes with a certain assurance of anonymity. Like when you pay a shrink or a lawyer.”
“Client confidentiality.” He leaned back in his chair and took on a thoughtful expression.
“Exactly.” I poured myself another glass of soda.
He watched me in silence for a few moments. “I would like to know who pointed you to our doorstep.”
Again with the questions.
“Someone who wishes to remain anonymous.”
He could keep asking questions, and I would keep being evasive. This was going to be a long couple of hours.
“A lot of people know the type of work we do, but most of them, I’d imagine, wouldn’t run in the same social circles as someone like you.”
The way he said ‘social circles’ made it clear it wasn’t a compliment.
“And what would you know about the social circles I run in?”
He took his time answering, his eyes scanning slowly over my appearance. “I haven’t seen you in this part of town before. If I had to guess, I would figure you for a Middleton gal.”
Middleton--a quiet, sleepy suburb about thirty minutes from the city. He wasn’t wrong. I’d lived on the outskirts of Middleton most of my life.
“Let me guess, your father is a plumber and your mother a school teacher.”
Actually, he couldn’t have been further off the mark. I forced a smile onto my face. “Do you do fortunes? Are you going to tell me my horoscope next?”
“Not something I normally dabble in, but I could if you wanted me to.” His eyes focused on me in a way I found disconcerting, especially when they began to change color, from dark gray to a warm caramel. Eye color didn’t naturally change in seconds, but one thing could make the transformation happen I knew from experience--magic.
“Stay out of my head,” I said with as much force as I could muster.
Darla spoke up, “Luke, stop being so rude.”
“Why? What’s she trying to hide?” He looked over at Darla, an amused expression on his face. “Does she have top government secrets hidden away in the recesses of her mind?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he got up from his chair and started clearing away the dishes.
“I’m the private ‘no trespassing allowed’ type. Let’s leave it at that,” I answered quietly to his retreating back.
He spun around so fast my breath hitched in the back of my throat. He put the dishes down none too gently, and they rattled loudly as they hit the surface of the trunk. “What’re you really doing here?”
I closed my hands around my now empty plastic cup, crushing it. I took a deep breath and relaxed my grip. I wouldn’t be scared off by this guy. I had food in my stomach, and I was feeling less shaky. I needed him to help me, and it would be even better if I could get him to see me as strong and capable.
I took a deliberately long pause before answering, “Paying you a lot of money.”
He took a step toward me. “To learn the dark arts?”
I could almost feel the wave of violence and intimidation wash over him. He clenched his fists and towered over me menacingly. Here, I was in this stranger’s apartment. No one knew where I was. At any moment, he could decide I was not worth the hassle and--what? Kill me? He already had my money. I‘d paid him the money upfront like an idiot. I had heard stories about his kind. Most of them seemed outlandish, but I knew there was truth buried within the tall tales. Anger I could handle, but not violence, not now, not after what had happened. At the very thought of it, my stomach clenched and my mouth trembled.
I looked over at Darla. She was watching us, her expression sullen. So far she’d shown me only kindness. She wouldn’t let him hurt me, I was almost certain of it.
He glared down at me, and I tried to look confident and fearless, but I didn’t trust my voice betraying me, so I nodded.
“Why did you come here? Why are you so desperate to learn the dark magics?”
I forced myself to sit up. I used to have a backbone, and if there was ever a time to show it, it was now. I wouldn’t tremble like a scared rabbit in front of this guy anymore. I could feel the anger growing within me. I tried to hold on to the feeling, will it along, forcing the flames of it to warm my blood and fuel my words.
“Why does it matter? I need to learn, and a friend told me that I could find someone here who would teach me!”
My reaction didn’t seem to surprise him. He’d been pushing, and I’d finally pushed back.
The anger abandoned me as suddenly as it had come. “Look, you guys seem pretty open about what you do. The shop even has a phoenix on its sign. It’s not like you’re hiding who you are.”
“I’m not ashamed of what I am.”
“A lot of people don’t share that view.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you one of them?”
I slumped back against the pillows. “I’m the live and let live type.”
His face softened, and he took a step back. “A healer.”
“I told you I was.” I was so tired, so sick of all the questions. All I wanted to do was go somewhere safe, somewhere where I could try and get some rest.
“But not now?”
Why did he keep pushing? When I put down the cup, my hands were openly shaking again. “Not anymore.”
“I’ve never heard of one of your kind walking away from the calling.” His voice was softer now, less demanding.
I was anxious to change the subject. I knew the Triads were one of the largest street gangs in the city. They were mostly mage born--many of them vicious human beings. Part mage and a whole lot of natural born killer types--a deadly combination any way you looked at it.
“You said the Triads are out in the streets causing havoc. Do they do that a lot?”
“Recently more than usual.”
“So it’s not safe for me out there?”
“No.”
Those dark eyes were watching me. Once again, I felt like a puzzle he was trying to work out.
“I could pay you to be my bodyguard and escort me home.”
He shook his head. “It’s not safe for even the likes of me out there these days.”
Now that was something. I had never heard of a death dealer being afraid of anything. They were what I considered the top of the magic food chain--the hardest of the mage-born to kill.
“And you’re proposing what? I should bunk down here tonight?”
“It’s getting late. The streets are dangerous, and you don’t look like you’re up to fighting off trouble at the moment.” He did a sweeping gesture with his arm that took in his sister. “We are offering a place of refuge.”
Darla got up and walked over to me. She sat down next to me and patted my hand as if trying to offer some kind of comfort. “We’re about the same size. I have some sweat pants and a t-shirt I could lend you. Luke’s right, it’s not safe out there. You should stay with us.”
It had been a long time since anyone had offered to help me. I wanted to say no, but it would be foolish to go out and risk my life.
I moved my hand away but gave her a smile so she wouldn’t be offended. “I’ll take you up on the clothes, but what I could go for right now is a hot shower.”
She pointed across the room. “The bathroom’s over there. You can find clean towels in the cupboard.”
* * * *
The tub was an old-fashioned one. It had a metal circle at the top that held a white and black polka dot shower curtain. A hand-held shower head hung from a long retractable metal coil.
I slumped down on the side of the bathtub and wondered if I had the energy to take a shower. A pile of clean clothes sat on the toilet seat. The hot water would feel good against my skin. It might clean away the dirt, but what about the guilt? Could it wash that away?
I forced my body up and got undressed. If I had any sense I would get the heck out of here, but I knew I couldn’t. Not yet, not until I got what I needed. I looked in the mirror and shook down my hair. Now free, it came to rest at my shoulders in waves. I turned away from the mirror and stepped into the bathtub. I reached for the shower head and held it over my head with one hand as I turned the knobs with the other. I took a long shower, spraying the hot water back and forth across my body. When I finally got out, I rummaged through cabinet drawers until I came across a towel and boar hair brush. I dried myself, and then took my time brushing my hair.
When I was done, I changed into my borrowed clothes.
Darla was wrong, we weren’t the same size. She might be younger than I was, but she had a lot more curves. Everything was a bit too large. I tied the bottom of the white t-shirt into a knot and pulled the drawstring on the gray sweat pants tight. For some reason, I felt more vulnerable when I came out, even though I was fully clothed. I realized it was because I was wearing someone else’s clothes.
I was in a strange place, with people I had just met, and I was about to bunk down like a guest. An unwelcome guest. Even though he said I should stay, Luke’s expression was not one of welcome as I came out of the bathroom.
“You were in there a while.” He was standing against the row of windows. He looked even bigger than I remembered. Was it possible that he’d grown five inches since I stepped into the bathroom? Impossible. It was just the play of shadows against his body.
“Sorry, did you want to take one? I didn’t mean to hog all the hot water.”
“I usually take my showers in the morning.”
I was having a hard time keeping my eyes off him. He’d changed and currently sported no top and a pair of black sweatpants. Those broad shoulders tapered down to a very cut stomach. Suddenly the image of him dripping wet stepping out of the bathtub flashed across my mind. I couldn’t help it--I blushed, and like an idiot, the only thing I could think of to say was, “Oh, okay.”
“Darla put an extra blanket on the back of the couch in case you get cold.”
“Thanks. Where is she?”
He gestured toward one of the partitioned sections. “She went to bed.”
I stood there feeling like a moron, not sure what to say next.
He pointed to the couch. “The sheets are fresh, but the pillow is a bit lumpy. We aren’t set up for house guests. I’ll leave the light on in the bathroom and the door ajar, that way you’ll have a bit of light in the room if you get up in the night.”
“I doubt I will. I’m a pretty sound sleeper.” It wasn’t a lie--not really, I used to be a sound sleeper until the nightmares had set in. Chances were I would wake up in a cold sweat, trembling from head to toe. I desperately hoped I didn’t wake up screaming at the top of my lungs.
I gave him a smile and moved past him to the couch.
He walked across the room and flipped off the overhead lights.
I settled under the covers and watched the shadows from the window play against the ceiling. “Thanks again for the food, the shower, and a place to crash.”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. “No problem.”
“I like your place. It’s…comfortable.”
“I’m glad you approve.” His voice sounded amused.
“Goodnight.” And as I said the words, I swear I heard my brother’s voice whisper in my ears, “And don’t let the bed bugs bite.” But it had to be my imagination. Lack of sleep was starting to affect my ability to function. A good night’s sleep and I’d be stronger tomorrow and maybe ready to take on whatever challenges came my way.
© copyright July 2013, Catrina Burgess
It won 2014 Wattpad Prize Winner - Best Suspense Story.
If you like the chapter you can download it for free on smashwords - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...
Chapter One
Into the Darkness I Go
“You want to learn the Death Arts?”
The look on his face was hard to read. It couldn’t have been every day that someone wandered into the shop and made such a request.
I tried to look more confident than I felt. He couldn’t tell my hands were slightly trembling inside my jacket pockets, could he? I forced myself to keep my gaze steady and resisted the urge to take to my heels and run out the door.
My Mama always said, “You can always ask, the worst they can do is say no.” But I don’t think Mama was thinking about revenge and murder when she dealt out that piece of homespun advice.
He stood behind the counter and looked about my age--seventeen. He had shoulder length blonde hair and he wore a black tank top sporting a picture of a large red phoenix surrounded by fire.
“I was told the owner of the shop could teach me the Death Arts.”
“I’m sorry, someone’s playing a joke on you. No one here can help you, not with something like that.”
Every wall in the place housed a set of shelves and scattered around the room were waist-high, freestanding glass cases. Statues with menacing faces stared back at me from between leather bound books on the shelves. Every flat surface was crammed full--exquisite bottles filled with colorful liquids, dried herbs, exotic feathers, and cloth pouches tied with ribbon. Mixed in with these harmless looking objects were other things. Misshapen bottles filled with red liquid, probably blood--human, goat or pig, who could tell? In a dark corner, I could make out the shapes of animal skulls. And something else. I leaned forward to get a closer look. What were those small objects hanging from a wooden pole over in the corner? A chill ran down my back as I realized that they were shrunken heads.
A magic shop dimly lit with some of its items peering from the shadows where they hid. Some of the items I’d only seen pictures of, and at another time I would have been tempted to spend a lazy afternoon exploring every nook and cranny in the place. But not today. I was here with a single minded purpose.
I’d anticipated that my request would be met with anger or disbelief, but he seemed almost indifferent. Almost. Those dark eyes had a hint of wariness about them. He might act as though everything was fine and dandy, but I had the impression that, at any moment, I was going to get tossed out on my butt.
“Luke, you know who she means.” A pretty girl with the longest hair I’d ever seen spoke from a doorway behind the counter. Her hair was the color of sweet yellow corn and fell just short of the ground.
“Darla, shut up.”
Darla looked a few years younger than Luke. She had on a long flowing blue skirt covered in yellow flowers and a white bohemian shirt, the sleeves of the shirt trimmed in blue lace.
“You’re looking for my Uncle Franklin. He’s out of town.” She glared at Luke as she came out and took her place next to him. “Ignore my brother. He’s worried you’re a Redeemer.”
Gods, do I look like a Redeemer? Everyone knew about the cult by now. They had started up two years ago--an organization whose members rejected all magic. Most members were innocent enough, but there were fringe sects that not only rejected magic, but sought out anyone who practiced magic for the sole purpose of “cleansing them.”
Five people had been found in the last month, drowned in local lakes, their hands and feet bound by thick rope. Obviously some psychopaths were watching too much of the history channel. Anyone who was a witch would float, and the innocent would drown, according to the old wives’ tale. These crazies proclaimed poor souls who drowned cleared of all charges. Little help it did them, being dead and all.
A group of Redeemers took credit for the deaths, but not in any way law enforcement agencies could track them down. The news reported flyers proclaiming The cleansing has begun, and Redeemers will take back our world, had appeared on various city streets.
How did someone prove they weren’t a nut job on a religious cleansing? “I’m not a Redeemer, I swear.” I tried to look mentally stable. “I was told that you’re death dealers. From the Phoenix Guild.” I looked pointedly at his t-shirt.
Darla laughed. “She’s got you there.” She reached behind the counter, pulled out sticks of incense and held them up. “What do you think? Lavender or Root beer?”
“Root beer.”
She grabbed a box of matches from a nearby shelf, pulled one out and struck it. The flame flickered wildly before she lowered it and carefully lit one of the brown sticks. She held the stick up to her mouth and blew out the flame at the tip. The smoke continued to rise and curled up in swirls around her face.
“Root beer is my favorite.” She smiled and placed the incense down into a carved wooden holder sitting on the counter.
The sweet smell filled the room. Darla pushed the wooden holder to the side and hopped up on the counter. Once settled, she swept the mass of her hair over her right shoulder. It slid down her body like a golden river.
I wondered how long it took her to wash and dry such hair. It had to be heavy and, I’d think, very hot in the summer. I watched, mesmerized as her nimble fingers divided the strands into three large sections and she began to braid it.
“Your uncle, when will he be back?”
Luke didn’t answer, and he was starting to look annoyed. I waited two beats, and when he still didn’t answer I turned to his sister.
She looked up from her braids and watched her brother for a few seconds before answering, “Not for at least two weeks. He’s put us in charge of the store while he’s gone.”
I was desperate--no way could I wait weeks. Chances were if I didn’t get help soon I’d be dead--in days not weeks.
“Can you help me?” I couldn’t help it, my voice trembled a bit.
This time Luke responded. “Help you learn the Dark Arts? So you can what? Take out your frustrations on the world?” He turned to Darla. “I’m betting someone pissed her off. You ever notice that it’s always the angry ones who think they can come and learn our craft? Think they can be taught our art during a weekend course. Why not just buy a gun? Oh, yeah, because guns don’t work on our kind.” He turned his attention back to me. “If you don’t mind me asking, who’s this almighty enemy who pissed you off? Ex-boyfriend? Some clerk at the local mini mart?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
My chin came up, and I looked him straight in the eye when I answered. “I’m not asking you to train me in the deadly arts so I can take out a busload of nuns.”
This proclamation brought a half grin to his face. He wasn’t taking me seriously. In truth I couldn’t blame him, I didn’t look the part. No Goth clothing, no long black trench coat. I wore the uniform of the middle class in my part of town--a striped white and blue sweater covered by a dark sailor jacket, a pair of faded blue jeans, and black Vans.
I was beginning to regret the coat. The moment I entered the store a wall of heat had hit me. It was autumn outside, but someone inside liked to keep things toasty. Small beads of sweat were forming on my forehead. I considered taking off my coat, but the reception I was getting made me think I wouldn’t be staying long.
He slowly took in my appearance. I tried not to wither under the scrutiny. I knew what he saw standing in front of him--a seventeen year old girl with dark brown hair pulled up into a ponytail. I’m not the type to stop traffic. My chin and my forehead were a bit too pronounced thanks to my Scottish heritage. Blunt bangs fringed my forehead, coming to rest above nondescript hazel eyes, and my build--more tomboyish than playboy bunny. Nothing that screamed “look at me”--I blended into a crowd, and that was something I counted on.
“I can pay.” I pulled a wad of bills out of my right jacket pocket. “I understand that you people prefer to work in cash.”
The cash made him frown. Worse, it made him move from behind the big glass counter faster than I could have anticipated. I barely had a chance to take a step back before he reached out and grabbed my arm.
“Who are you?”
He was much bigger up close. I looked up and our eyes locked, and I suddenly lost the ability to speak. He’d seemed amiable enough when I stepped into the shop, but now his whole body language took on a more threatening vibe. Those dark eyes shone, not with anger but… Violence.
Normally a big, pissed-off stranger manhandling me would have freaked me out, but I was past being intimidated. Fear had left the building a few days ago when bullets had been flying and bloody bodies covered the floor. I gave myself a mental shake. I wouldn’t think about that now. I’d lock those images into the deepest, darkest corner of my mind, and maybe one day I would deal with them, but not today. Today I was on a mission. I didn’t have a lot to lose and this guy might be the only one who could give me what I needed most.
I pushed the money at his chest with my free hand. “My name is Colina. You don’t need to know my last name, and if this isn’t enough, name your price.”
His fingers curled around the bills, and he took a step back and let go of my arm.
“You’re serious about this?”
“Yes. If you tell me no, I’ll go find someone else.”
Only problem was there weren’t a lot of people willing to teach outside their guild, and we both knew it.
“You think you can handle learning the black arts?”
I wasn’t sure I could handle it, but I wasn’t about to admit my fear to him. So I kept quiet and nodded.
“Luke, you can’t be serious. You can’t teach her.” Darla had finished braiding her hair--her attention now was on the two of us.
“Stay out of it, Darla!”
“No way Uncle would let you do it!” Her brown eyes blazing with anger, Darla jumped down from the counter and rounded up on him.
He took a step away from her and turned to me. “Have you had any training?”
I lifted the sleeve of my jacket and turned my forearm, revealing the small tattoo of a blue swallow inked into my skin just above my palm.
“You’re a healer.” He couldn’t have sounded more shocked.
I could feel tears starting to form, but I forced them back. “I was.”
“You can’t learn the dark arts. Your people would never allow such a thing.” He frowned. He’d looked on me first with ridicule, then in amusement, and now he was watching me as though I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to work out.
It was true. I’d taken the sacred oath, and if anyone caught me learning the dark arts, let alone using them, I’d be punished, possibly imprisoned. I knew the risk, but I didn’t care.
“Will you teach me?” I knew he could hear the desperation in my voice. I felt it in the very core of my being. My hands were visibly trembling. I’d done a pretty good job of keeping it together until now, but hunger and exhaustion washed over me. I had been on my own, trying to deal with what happened, and it was suddenly all too much. If seeing me fall apart in front of him was the only way to convince him of my sincerity, then I didn’t care if he saw my fear and desperation. He was my last hope. My only chance to stay alive and maybe, if I lived long enough and I got lucky, I would have a chance to take my revenge.
He didn’t answer right away. Darla stood next to him, her eyes wide but her expression unreadable. She watched us both in silence. And as we all stood there, the silence stretched on and on, and all the while Luke’s unyielding dark eyes surveyed me. I had a feeling he was trying to figure me out, he was trying to coax out my secrets, but I knew he couldn’t. Training in my art had given me the necessary skills to defend my thoughts if I needed to.
I pushed down the urge to shift from foot to foot while I waited for an answer. When he finally broke the silence, I physically jumped.
“Come back tomorrow night after midnight.” He pocketed the bills.
“The witching hour.” I said the words through clenched teeth. It was not the response I was expecting. The witching hour was a time when people slept, and the world seemed tranquil, except it was more than that. It wasn’t truly tranquil and safe, not for people like us. For those of us who knew better it could be wild, chaotic and dangerous.
“Yes, the witching hour.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
A shudder went through me. What the heck was I getting myself into?
“Still time to change your mind.” His voice was low.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you? A healer? You’ve seen the life leave a person, watched their energy dissipate into the ether sea, but have you ever called on that same energy? Ever felt its pulse swirling and circling around you? It’s not for the faint of heart.”
What could I say? He was right. I had never called on the spirits. Honestly, I only had an inkling of the type of magic his guild used. I knew that it was the strongest magic. If I was going to survive, if I was going to exact my revenge, it was the magic I needed to learn, no matter the consequences. I had no choice but to head down this road, but that didn’t stop fear and panic from settling into the pit of my stomach.
A phone rang before I could reply. He made his way back around the counter and picked up the receiver and started talking on the phone.
When I had gone looking for a death dealer, I hadn’t been given a name. A piece of paper with an address and a brief description of the shop had been the only things I had to go on. I had made it here in one piece and someone had agreed to teach me. It was a victory, a small one, but I’d take what I could at this point.
I realized I was standing there like an idiot, watching Luke talk on the phone, when I should have been high-tailing it out of there. We’d completed our business. He might have reservations, but he’d taken my money and agreed to teach me. I had no reason to linger. If I hung around he might change his mind, yet there I was--staying and staring.
He was good looking, with piercing eyes and a rugged jaw. He had broad shoulders and a long scar ran down his left shoulder, the end of it lost beneath the black material. I wondered how far the scar ran. At the last thought, I felt a heat rise inside me. My cheeks flushed, and for a moment my heart pounded. I reminded myself that he was a death dealer.
I realized in horror that the phone conversation was over, and he was talking to me, but I had been so caught up in my own thoughts that I had missed everything he said.
I felt a blush spread across my cheeks. Like an idiot I mumbled, “Uh, what?”
“You can’t go back out in the streets.” He looked deadly serious.
“Who’s going to stop me?” I regained my composure, but my voice was more than a bit defensive.
“The Triads. I just got a call from a neighbor. The Triads are hanging out down the block.” He walked around the counter until he stood in front of me. “You’ll have to stay here. At least for a couple hours until the coast is clear.”
No way was I staying. I had gotten what I came for. It was time to leave. The Triads didn’t scare me. I was a healer and even they had a code against harming a healer. But I was no longer a healer, I reminded myself. I was going to delve into the forbidden magics. I was soon to become someone on the fringe of society. No
respectable person mingled with the Phoenix Guild.
A wave of exhaustion suddenly hit me. I grabbed the corner of the closest table to steady myself. Making the decision to come here, forcing him to take me on, had taken all the energy out of me. The anger, the desperation, the determination, it all suddenly evaporated.
“Are you all right?” Darla asked, coming to my side.
The words came out in a harsh whisper. “I’m fine. I skipped a couple meals.”
It had been at least three days since food had passed my mouth. I had forced myself to drink, but every time I had tried to eat the images had come and the nausea had set in.
“I just felt dizzy for a second. There’s no need to make a fuss.” My voice sounded unbelievably weak even to my own ears.
Darla bent down, and her fingers grazed across my forehead. “She’s not okay. Luke, bring her upstairs.”
I began to slump and Luke reached out and put an arm around my waist, supporting me.
I tried to pull myself out of his grip, but he was extremely strong. “You can let me go, I’m okay.”
“Darla, lock up the shop. With the Triads out there, best thing to do is lock up and sit tight until they get bored and move on.” He ignored my protest and began to lead me behind the counter and through a doorway into a small hallway.
I felt like a helpless rag doll in his arms as he moved us along the hall to the foot of a wooden staircase.
“Since you can’t leave, you might as well come upstairs. We haven’t had a chance to eat. We can get some food into you. Can you make it up the stairs?” The harshness had left his voice. He sounded almost kind.
“I’m fine, I just need to…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, the world around me started to fade away.
“Hey, don’t pass out.” He leaned down and lifted me into his arms.
He carried me up the stairs and delivered me across a large room onto a brown couch sitting against a bright red painted wall.
I needed a moment to catch my breath and gather my strength. Showing so much weakness in front of strangers embarrassed me. I had been an idiot to go so long without food. Sleep was something I was not doing a lot of lately. Every time I closed my eyes the nightmares rushed in. It wasn’t surprising my body suddenly rebelled and gave way. I’d lie here for a minute or two, catch my breath, and then head out.
Suddenly he was standing over me. He had a bottle of soda in one hand and two plastic glasses in the other.
He handed over the bottle and the glasses. “We’ve got some cheese and salami in the fridge. Darla picked up some fresh bread at the local bakery this morning.”
What choice did I have? If I kept going this way, I’d end up passed out on the streets.
I looked up at him and forced a smile. “Thanks for the dinner invite. I accept.”
* * * *
The food was good. I ate until I couldn’t take another bite. My coat was now draped next to me on the couch. I leaned back against the leather cushions and relaxed for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime.
My gaze kept going to Luke. There was little resemblance to the imposing figure I had dealt with down in the store-front. Luke relaxed upstairs. He hadn’t said much while we ate, and now he sat back in his chair finishing a bite of bread.
Every time I glanced his way he was looking at me, his stare openly inquisitive.
He was not what I had expected. He didn’t hide like the rest of the members of his guild. People knew about the shop, and they came to it looking for things they needed to work spells. He was wearing a phoenix on his t-shirt for God sakes. This was not a guy trying to keep to the shadows--this was a guy living openly in a society that deeply despised his kind. Did he feel alienated? Did he have friends outside his guild?
And what about his sister, Darla? I wondered if she practiced the arts. She sat quietly finishing off her meal. It was hard to tell if someone possessed magic just by looking at them. Was she also a death dealer? Would the Phoenix Guild initiate someone so young?
I wondered how different her life was from mine. I had become a healer like my mother and her mother before her. The path to becoming a healer did start at fifteen, but at that age I had only learned the basics about plants and medicine. Mama hadn’t allowed me to delve into the magics that went along with healing until I hit my seventeenth birthday. I had started my training three months ago and, in that time, I’d learned as much as I could as fast as I could.
No other career choice had ever entered my mind. It had been taken for granted that I would follow in my family’s footsteps, and honestly I didn’t have any regrets. I especially loved working with plants--being out in the sunshine, my hands pushed into the dirt of mother earth, growing fragile things with care and love, creating medicines to heal the sick. Mixing potions, learning the craft that had been passed down through the generations--there was no part of being a healer that hadn’t made my heart swell with joy and had me leaping out of bed every morning full of excitement. The world had seemed a place of endless possibilities.
But all of that was now behind me, and the path before me was full of shadows and darkness. I was going to become a death dealer, and I didn’t have the faintest idea what kind of lives they led.
I took a good look at my surroundings. I was in a studio apartment, but the space was enormous. A well outfitted kitchen with granite counters and cherry cabinets stood at one side of the room. The middle area had been arranged as a living room and office. A couch lay against the wall on a large patterned rug surrounded by two oversized chairs. To the right of the couch, in front of a row of tall windows, stood a desk with a laptop computer and printer. Next to the desk was a small row of black metal cabinets. On the other side of the room were three large partitions--walls that didn’t quite make it all the way up to the ceiling. Bedrooms, I imagined.
“This is a nice place.” It was an expensive place. Every piece of furniture, every knickknack, screamed money.
“It’s my uncle’s.” Luke leaned forward and put his plate down on an old blue steamer trunk which served as a table for our meal. “Are you going to tell us what brought you here?”
“Good food, terrific soda, what’s not to like?” My answer brought a scowl to his face, but I wasn’t going to be intimidated. I was the one paying for his services, and I wasn’t about to fill him in on the details of my life. “My understanding is that your type of work comes with a certain assurance of anonymity. Like when you pay a shrink or a lawyer.”
“Client confidentiality.” He leaned back in his chair and took on a thoughtful expression.
“Exactly.” I poured myself another glass of soda.
He watched me in silence for a few moments. “I would like to know who pointed you to our doorstep.”
Again with the questions.
“Someone who wishes to remain anonymous.”
He could keep asking questions, and I would keep being evasive. This was going to be a long couple of hours.
“A lot of people know the type of work we do, but most of them, I’d imagine, wouldn’t run in the same social circles as someone like you.”
The way he said ‘social circles’ made it clear it wasn’t a compliment.
“And what would you know about the social circles I run in?”
He took his time answering, his eyes scanning slowly over my appearance. “I haven’t seen you in this part of town before. If I had to guess, I would figure you for a Middleton gal.”
Middleton--a quiet, sleepy suburb about thirty minutes from the city. He wasn’t wrong. I’d lived on the outskirts of Middleton most of my life.
“Let me guess, your father is a plumber and your mother a school teacher.”
Actually, he couldn’t have been further off the mark. I forced a smile onto my face. “Do you do fortunes? Are you going to tell me my horoscope next?”
“Not something I normally dabble in, but I could if you wanted me to.” His eyes focused on me in a way I found disconcerting, especially when they began to change color, from dark gray to a warm caramel. Eye color didn’t naturally change in seconds, but one thing could make the transformation happen I knew from experience--magic.
“Stay out of my head,” I said with as much force as I could muster.
Darla spoke up, “Luke, stop being so rude.”
“Why? What’s she trying to hide?” He looked over at Darla, an amused expression on his face. “Does she have top government secrets hidden away in the recesses of her mind?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he got up from his chair and started clearing away the dishes.
“I’m the private ‘no trespassing allowed’ type. Let’s leave it at that,” I answered quietly to his retreating back.
He spun around so fast my breath hitched in the back of my throat. He put the dishes down none too gently, and they rattled loudly as they hit the surface of the trunk. “What’re you really doing here?”
I closed my hands around my now empty plastic cup, crushing it. I took a deep breath and relaxed my grip. I wouldn’t be scared off by this guy. I had food in my stomach, and I was feeling less shaky. I needed him to help me, and it would be even better if I could get him to see me as strong and capable.
I took a deliberately long pause before answering, “Paying you a lot of money.”
He took a step toward me. “To learn the dark arts?”
I could almost feel the wave of violence and intimidation wash over him. He clenched his fists and towered over me menacingly. Here, I was in this stranger’s apartment. No one knew where I was. At any moment, he could decide I was not worth the hassle and--what? Kill me? He already had my money. I‘d paid him the money upfront like an idiot. I had heard stories about his kind. Most of them seemed outlandish, but I knew there was truth buried within the tall tales. Anger I could handle, but not violence, not now, not after what had happened. At the very thought of it, my stomach clenched and my mouth trembled.
I looked over at Darla. She was watching us, her expression sullen. So far she’d shown me only kindness. She wouldn’t let him hurt me, I was almost certain of it.
He glared down at me, and I tried to look confident and fearless, but I didn’t trust my voice betraying me, so I nodded.
“Why did you come here? Why are you so desperate to learn the dark magics?”
I forced myself to sit up. I used to have a backbone, and if there was ever a time to show it, it was now. I wouldn’t tremble like a scared rabbit in front of this guy anymore. I could feel the anger growing within me. I tried to hold on to the feeling, will it along, forcing the flames of it to warm my blood and fuel my words.
“Why does it matter? I need to learn, and a friend told me that I could find someone here who would teach me!”
My reaction didn’t seem to surprise him. He’d been pushing, and I’d finally pushed back.
The anger abandoned me as suddenly as it had come. “Look, you guys seem pretty open about what you do. The shop even has a phoenix on its sign. It’s not like you’re hiding who you are.”
“I’m not ashamed of what I am.”
“A lot of people don’t share that view.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you one of them?”
I slumped back against the pillows. “I’m the live and let live type.”
His face softened, and he took a step back. “A healer.”
“I told you I was.” I was so tired, so sick of all the questions. All I wanted to do was go somewhere safe, somewhere where I could try and get some rest.
“But not now?”
Why did he keep pushing? When I put down the cup, my hands were openly shaking again. “Not anymore.”
“I’ve never heard of one of your kind walking away from the calling.” His voice was softer now, less demanding.
I was anxious to change the subject. I knew the Triads were one of the largest street gangs in the city. They were mostly mage born--many of them vicious human beings. Part mage and a whole lot of natural born killer types--a deadly combination any way you looked at it.
“You said the Triads are out in the streets causing havoc. Do they do that a lot?”
“Recently more than usual.”
“So it’s not safe for me out there?”
“No.”
Those dark eyes were watching me. Once again, I felt like a puzzle he was trying to work out.
“I could pay you to be my bodyguard and escort me home.”
He shook his head. “It’s not safe for even the likes of me out there these days.”
Now that was something. I had never heard of a death dealer being afraid of anything. They were what I considered the top of the magic food chain--the hardest of the mage-born to kill.
“And you’re proposing what? I should bunk down here tonight?”
“It’s getting late. The streets are dangerous, and you don’t look like you’re up to fighting off trouble at the moment.” He did a sweeping gesture with his arm that took in his sister. “We are offering a place of refuge.”
Darla got up and walked over to me. She sat down next to me and patted my hand as if trying to offer some kind of comfort. “We’re about the same size. I have some sweat pants and a t-shirt I could lend you. Luke’s right, it’s not safe out there. You should stay with us.”
It had been a long time since anyone had offered to help me. I wanted to say no, but it would be foolish to go out and risk my life.
I moved my hand away but gave her a smile so she wouldn’t be offended. “I’ll take you up on the clothes, but what I could go for right now is a hot shower.”
She pointed across the room. “The bathroom’s over there. You can find clean towels in the cupboard.”
* * * *
The tub was an old-fashioned one. It had a metal circle at the top that held a white and black polka dot shower curtain. A hand-held shower head hung from a long retractable metal coil.
I slumped down on the side of the bathtub and wondered if I had the energy to take a shower. A pile of clean clothes sat on the toilet seat. The hot water would feel good against my skin. It might clean away the dirt, but what about the guilt? Could it wash that away?
I forced my body up and got undressed. If I had any sense I would get the heck out of here, but I knew I couldn’t. Not yet, not until I got what I needed. I looked in the mirror and shook down my hair. Now free, it came to rest at my shoulders in waves. I turned away from the mirror and stepped into the bathtub. I reached for the shower head and held it over my head with one hand as I turned the knobs with the other. I took a long shower, spraying the hot water back and forth across my body. When I finally got out, I rummaged through cabinet drawers until I came across a towel and boar hair brush. I dried myself, and then took my time brushing my hair.
When I was done, I changed into my borrowed clothes.
Darla was wrong, we weren’t the same size. She might be younger than I was, but she had a lot more curves. Everything was a bit too large. I tied the bottom of the white t-shirt into a knot and pulled the drawstring on the gray sweat pants tight. For some reason, I felt more vulnerable when I came out, even though I was fully clothed. I realized it was because I was wearing someone else’s clothes.
I was in a strange place, with people I had just met, and I was about to bunk down like a guest. An unwelcome guest. Even though he said I should stay, Luke’s expression was not one of welcome as I came out of the bathroom.
“You were in there a while.” He was standing against the row of windows. He looked even bigger than I remembered. Was it possible that he’d grown five inches since I stepped into the bathroom? Impossible. It was just the play of shadows against his body.
“Sorry, did you want to take one? I didn’t mean to hog all the hot water.”
“I usually take my showers in the morning.”
I was having a hard time keeping my eyes off him. He’d changed and currently sported no top and a pair of black sweatpants. Those broad shoulders tapered down to a very cut stomach. Suddenly the image of him dripping wet stepping out of the bathtub flashed across my mind. I couldn’t help it--I blushed, and like an idiot, the only thing I could think of to say was, “Oh, okay.”
“Darla put an extra blanket on the back of the couch in case you get cold.”
“Thanks. Where is she?”
He gestured toward one of the partitioned sections. “She went to bed.”
I stood there feeling like a moron, not sure what to say next.
He pointed to the couch. “The sheets are fresh, but the pillow is a bit lumpy. We aren’t set up for house guests. I’ll leave the light on in the bathroom and the door ajar, that way you’ll have a bit of light in the room if you get up in the night.”
“I doubt I will. I’m a pretty sound sleeper.” It wasn’t a lie--not really, I used to be a sound sleeper until the nightmares had set in. Chances were I would wake up in a cold sweat, trembling from head to toe. I desperately hoped I didn’t wake up screaming at the top of my lungs.
I gave him a smile and moved past him to the couch.
He walked across the room and flipped off the overhead lights.
I settled under the covers and watched the shadows from the window play against the ceiling. “Thanks again for the food, the shower, and a place to crash.”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. “No problem.”
“I like your place. It’s…comfortable.”
“I’m glad you approve.” His voice sounded amused.
“Goodnight.” And as I said the words, I swear I heard my brother’s voice whisper in my ears, “And don’t let the bed bugs bite.” But it had to be my imagination. Lack of sleep was starting to affect my ability to function. A good night’s sleep and I’d be stronger tomorrow and maybe ready to take on whatever challenges came my way.
© copyright July 2013, Catrina Burgess
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