Blood Magik- A Cold Day In Hell

by Corwyn Matthew

  Imala’s seal of sovereignty that was burned into the cemetery’s ground prevented any human soul from ascending, so those who were unfortunate enough to be reborn on Earth would likely be reborn under Imala’s rule, trapped inside themselves, slaves to her accursed magics. Her blood being the catalyst of the spell that caused the dead to live gave her a hold on anyone that walked after death. But hers and Marty’s blood were that of the same line, as was Smoke’s and Alex’s… What ambiguities or unseen affects this might allow brother and sister to exploit over mother and son would be uncovered in time. Whether it would be in time to change the tides of fate was the question that needed to be asked.

  Demons, Spirits, and Cab Drivers, Oh My!

  “You knew it was me all along, didn’t you.” Alex shot her father a playfully sharp look after stepping out onto the old sidewalk alongside his restaurant.

  “Of course.”

  “What gave me away?”

  “Your face, for one…”

  “I look that much like her?”

  “No…” he smiled. “You look that much like me.”

  She looked unconvinced and gave her father’s face a onceover. “I don’t really see it…” She was being honest, but still teasing.

  “That’s because I’m not wearing any makeup.”

  She laughed a little, then caught a chill and shivered under her coat. The storm in the distance was gaining ground but hadn’t quite made it as far out as the Reservation. The sky was still clear for the most part. The stars glimmered above and the moonlight lit the path they perused. There was a brief silence when the two were caught in the clarity of the night and seemed to just be taking it all in, appreciating the tranquility of that which might not be around much longer.

  “Dimorphotheca Sinuata.” The old man spoke in an unfamiliar tongue and Alex wasn’t sure if she was supposed to know what he was referring to.

  “Is…that some sort of secret tribal-speak? Am I completely dishonoring our heritage by not knowing what that means?”

  “African Daisies.” He pointed off to their right where a patch of grass along the sidewalk had a handful of long stemmed, yellow/orange flowers sprouting from the center.

  “Oh…” She glanced down and felt a little silly for mentioning the whole “tribal-speak” thing.

  “They were your mother’s favorite wildflower.” He smiled distantly. “Be a dear and pick one out for me, will you? The tallest one. There, in the middle of the bunch.”

  She reached down and plucked the orange daisy from the earth then lifted it up to study it more closely. “It’s not very attractive, is it.” She wasn’t too impressed upon further examination.

  “She always said they reminded her of me…”

  “Oh, sorry…”

  “I’ll have you know, young lady, that twenty years ago I looked… Well, pretty much like I do now, I suppose… But twenty years before that…” He wasn’t exactly sure where he was going with this… “Actually…come to think of it, I was never very much to look at.” Alex giggled and her father smiled. “But I never had any trouble making the ladies laugh.”

  She was beginning to see what her mother might have seen in him. He had a very cool presence and seemed comfortable in his skin. A man’s confidence usually made a whale of a difference, but she got the impression her mother’s interest in him was more complex than just a weekend fling. She wished she had more time to talk about her, but the growing chill of the night and ominous itch over her shoulder served as a reminder that there were more pressing concerns at hand.

  “So, besides for my great looks, that I apparently inherited from your side of the family…how did you know it was me? …I mean, you said we looked alike, but our resemblance could’ve been a coincidence, right?”

  She wanted to know if he was expecting her, but wasn’t comfortable just coming out with information regarding her chats with deceased loved ones so early in the “getting-to-know-you” stage.

  “The charm,” he answered. “The one you wear around your neck… It’s unmistakable.”

  “The charm?” She looked down at her chest and reached up for her pendant…but it wasn’t there. Marty still had it. How did he…?

  “I’m…not wearing a charm…”

  Her father let an amused hmph escape his throat.

  “Just because you’re not wearing it, doesn’t mean you don’t keep it with you.” He looked over at his daughter and waved his hand out slowly in front of her. When his palm passed over her chest, a green glow glistened in a circular shape where her amulet would’ve been. The light bounced off her skin and sparkled in her eyes when she glanced down at its glow.

  “How did you…?” The shine over her heart softened then slowly dissipated, leaving her feeling warmer inside, safer, and more assured. “You can see it?” He smiled to give her her answer. “What is it, anyway?”

  “A soul-stone.” He let the concept sink in for a moment. “It holds the strength of your mother’s spirit; her essence and those of the women in your lineage that came before her. It’s…very old…” He thought about telling her how old, but it entailed too much history to get into during their short walk home. “It will help you…” There was so much to say, but he knew she wasn’t ready to hear it all. One can’t force a person to become who they were meant to be. It would eventually just happen – any way you’d slice it. Who you are is a result of the cards dealt, and the hand fate stuck you with wouldn’t change no matter how much you feel you may have gotten “the shaft”.

  “It will help meeee…stop the apocalypse? Save my brother’s life? …What?”

  She didn’t mean to snap at him, but since it was out in the open, she started feeling that weight over her heart that’d been temporarily set aside for the polite benefit of getting to know one another. It was time to get some insight concerning her future role in this New World… But she wasn’t certain she could handle the answers she sought.

  He regarded his daughter with a sadness that pained her heart to see.

  “There’s no stopping what’s to come. It has already happened. There’s never any stopping what’s meant to be.”

  “And my brother?” She got the impression this was one of those questions she neither was prepared for nor wanted to hear the answer to.

  “Your brother…” He wasn’t sure how to put it. “…has a role to play, just as you do.” Recognizing the desperate look in her eyes, he did his best to be comforting. “He doesn’t need saving, Alex. What he will become is necessary. All he needs is you at his side.”

  “Could you be a little more vague, please? I’d hate for you to ruin any big surprises.” Her sarcasm was openly rude, but he wasn’t offended.

  “What’s important is that you understand your role. You need to know who you really are…”

  She gave him a look that said, “Spit it out, grandpa, you’re not getting any younger!”.

  He peered over her shoulder, past her flustered expression when something temporarily derailed his train of thought, then continued where he’d left off with a puzzled squint.

  “You are…being followed…”

  “What?” His response caught her off guard. It wasn’t what she expected to hear. But it did explain that creepy, chilling sensation she kept getting reacquainted with every other minute. “Who…?”

  “No…not a who… Look. On the corner, below the streetlight.”

  She cautiously gazed over to where his eyes had led, deep down already knowing something was there, but hoping for her instincts to be awry. She saw the streetlight…but where the light should’ve cast its glow, a blanket of shadows engulfed the asphalt beneath.

  “I don’t see…”

  He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder and, as if seeing through his eyes, the shroud of dark dissipated, revealing what had concealed itself, projecting the false image of nig
ht around its form.

  Tessura stood postured in her wolf body; head low, eyes screaming yellow. Alex jumped at the sight of her and the beast growled, knowing her cover had been compromised.

  Ultimately, Tessura was undeterred. There wasn’t anything the two of them could do to stop her from observing her prey. And besides, she had a plan of her own that would come to fruition regardless of Alex being made aware of her.

  “What the hell is that?” Somehow the beast’s presence felt familiar, but she was too caught in its hellish glare to give the vexing sensation much thought.

  “A demon. A collector of souls.” He kept his sights on the creature but the creature only had eyes for Alex. “Hell spawned. …That’s good.”

  “That’s good?” Alex wasn’t following. She had a tough time doing much of anything other than wondering if and when it would attack, and why it hadn’t already.

  “It means she doesn’t yet understand what you are… Otherwise she would know it can’t hurt you.”

  “She who?” His vague answers and elusive half-speak was testing her cool. “Spill it, old man, seriously. You’re really starting to freak me out…”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “Who didn’t tell me what?”

  “Your mother. She didn’t tell you about her sister? About Imala?”

  This was all happening too fast. She was having trouble sorting everything out.

  “Wait…wait… I have an aunt?”

  “Try not to get too sentimental,” he warned, with a tilt of his head. “She’s not your aunt anymore. She’s one of them now. A demon, like that beast that followed you here…but worse. She’s who will unleash this New Hell on Earth with plans to sit at its throne.”

  Alex took his word that she’d be safe from the beast for the time being (in spite of her instinct to run and climb up a tree…) and focused back on the importance of their dialog. Tessura followed, cunningly trotting beneath the shadows, as the old man continued his illumination, figuring it was about time they got to the heart of their dilemma.

  “Imala is the bearer of an ancient soul: a woman who, in the past, avoided being damned for an eternity to the underworld by discovering how to become the creator of her own immortal realm. She will employ Hell’s minions here on Earth and in exchange, gain the power to rule in this purgatory she’s forcing the world to become. …You are her opposite. You are the Right that balances Wrong: the strength to stand against her terror. The spirit you carry with you – Aiyana’s spirit – is what gives you that strength, and what will help you survive what’s to be.”

  “You mean… Hell on Earth.” She was trying to be objective about all this. “I’m supposed to survive the apocalypse so I can, what? Build a summer home and raise a family in the midst of demon-spawn and the walking dead?” Maybe she wasn’t trying hard enough… “What’s the point? I don’t understand any of this.” She aimed her confusion back over to Tessura who fell a little behind, but kept a diligent pace with a sneer across her snout that could almost be mistaken for a snicker. “I mean…what am I in this great big plan of yours? Am I supposed to kill my aunt, sleep with my brother and give birth to the new baby messiah? Or is it something even less pleasant?”

  The old man felt for her. He understood her frustration and thought, overall, she was handling it pretty well.

  “It’s not my plan, sweetheart. I wouldn’t condone anything that would make you uncomfortable or put you in any danger…” He wanted her to know he was on her side, and that he would do everything he could to help her. “It isn’t even God’s plan or that of the Great Mother’s… It’s just the way things are. And, no… I’m pretty sure you don’t have to sleep with anyone you don’t want to… Or kill anyone you don’t want to.” He sighed. “I’m not sure what you’re supposed to do…but I know you’re supposed to do it.” The confounding look chiseled across her brow called on his sympathies. “…That…wasn’t…very helpful, I take it?” She blatantly shook her head to either side. “Alright…then let’s start with what I do know.” She nodded cynically in accord.

  “When Imala creates a Hell of her own on Earth, everything will change – aside from the obvious, of course… The rules of reality will’ve been shattered, and what couldn’t naturally exist in this world before will then be possible.” He gave her a glance as they walked to be sure she was following along and, so far, she seemed to be on board. “Demon wolves, for example.” He nodded toward the beast that stalked them. “The undead. Drifting spirits and creatures of the netherworld. Blood-magik. Sorcery.” She looked to be getting a little lost, so he slowed down, allowing it all to sink in.

  “Imala is a reincarnated witch who collected sacrificial souls to gain strength over Hell. When fully realized, she can use the power she’s amassed to rule over some of the more unpleasant things that the Pit has to offer. Comparably, you will have a similar ability – or at least one that in some way will balance hers out. But the real challenge will be discovering the greater imagination to wield it. Imala was born…different…like you…but twisted, unnatural. She was able to project her abilities before she even knew she had them. She infected the minds of those around her and in-turn grew strength from their corruption. Your mother was immune to her influence, just as you are, but that’s only the beginning of the potential you’ll discover you hold. When the rules of reality change around you, you will have to change along with them. And you’ll find you have nothing to fear from what your future holds other than…”

  “Fear itself. Right, I get it…”

  “Actually…I was going to say nightmarish beasts that would look to infect your dreams and drive you mad while you sleep, but…now may not be the time for that, you’re right…”

  The lines in the corners of her eyes spelled her irritation. “Joking? …Now? …Really?”

  He suddenly felt maybe she was right to be annoyed by his levity. The weight of the responsibility he’s taken to lay on her shoulders shouldn’t be tossed around so lightly.

  “I’m sorry, dear. It’s…just how I tend to cope. I didn’t mean to seem like I’m not taking this seriously…”

  “No…It’s okay.” She let the death-grip her lids had over her eyes loosen. “Actually, your jokes remind me of my brother.” She smiled the slightest bit at the thought. “I think the two of you should get along great…”

  He smiled, secretly saddened by what he knew that she didn’t. “I would have liked that…”

  “Would have?” She wasn’t sure why he was being so bleak. “You still might, old man. Don’t give up on us so easily.”

  He forced a smile for the benefit of encouraging her optimism.

  “Yes…I suppose I might.” He looked down at his feet when he lied so she couldn’t see it in his eyes, then lifted his chin afterward. “I hope he likes my tea.”

  She accepted his polite optimism with a grin before fully realizing that, for the most part, her spirit was at peace. The level of complete mind-fuckery that fate had slapped her in the face with was appallingly detrimental…but somehow, she seemed able to manage. She should be urinating in her lavender-laced undies and crying puddles of hopelessly woeful tears…but she wasn’t.

  Again, she felt a warmth in her heart and an overall collected sense of composure flow through her chest with her every controlled breath. She had always kept a level head before, but there was more to her strength at this moment than simple acceptance or maturity beyond her years. For the first time in her life, she truly felt as if she wasn’t alone. The soothing company of her father by her side and the ever-present essence of her lineage’s better halves kindling within, gave her a confidence that allowed her to deal with what she now knows. The path in front of her was to be one of a thousand roads she would’ve never have chosen, but one she was prepared to face.

  Her father silently stood witness to her calm change in demeanor and smiled as he watched a
girl become a woman in front of him.

  They were nearing the end of the street they followed where a grassy hill replaced the road up ahead. Under the dark, she couldn’t make out much other than the silhouette of a Sycamore tree at the top and the moon low in the sky directly beside it.

  Alex rolled the stem of the daisy around in between her thumb and fingers and assumed they must be getting close to her father’s home. She figured she should be sure she squeezed all the relevant info out of him she could while she had the chance. Even though she ridiculed his earlier pessimism, he might’ve been right to assume they might never see each other again. She wouldn’t say it out loud…but wasn’t so naïve to not take the possibility seriously.

  There were so many questions… Which ones to ask was a trifling riddle in itself. She knew he didn’t have all the answers, but he certainly had more than she did, she was sure.

  When they reached the end of the street, her father continued on a path into the grass ahead. Alex followed him up the hill, a little curious to where they might be going. She presumed he would’ve lived in one of the houses they passed, but they apparently hadn’t reached their destination. She decided a little dirt on her boots wasn’t going to kill her, so she followed his lead and settled on a question to ask in the meantime.

  “There was a man…a dead man…in one of my dreams, right before I last saw my mother… He claimed to be me and Marty’s family. He called me ‘cousin’ and said he was Marty’s little brother…”

  The old man nodded, knowing something of whom she spoke.

  “Imala had two children of her own, both through Marty’s father. I don’t know much about them other than she gave them up for adoption, and that the daughter was killed in her teens. It’s possible the son has been brought under Imala’s wing and turned into an underling. …In fact, that would make sense. She gains strength with every family member murdered in her name. If she killed – or had her son killed – that may’ve been what completed her spell and gave her the power to become what she has and bring him back from beyond.”