Resurrection

by Ryan Attard

  But I had seen her kind before. Her husband or boyfriend—or whatever this asshole was to her—had broken her. She had likely lived under these conditions for months, if not years, getting beaten on. She would defend her man’s actions, even justify them to her kid when her guy targeted him.

  I know she was as much a victim as the kid, but to me, who had had to fight my father from using me and my sister as human sacrifices, someone who was raised to take the fight to the bad guys, to get beaten over and over again because it was the right thing to stand up to monsters like this man, she was just someone who stood idly by as her kid needed help.

  To do the right thing required tremendous amounts of willpower, and I know that not everyone has that.

  Tough shit. When your life and that of your loved ones is on the line, you had to find that willpower at whatever cost.

  The kid made a final choking sound and then the aura flared and the man was flung back.

  In my ghostly state I saw the spell like a massive spear hurtling from the kid towards the father, piercing his heart. Fortunately, there was not enough force to be lethal, but the man fell on the ground, heaving.

  The kid picked up a kitchen knife. He didn’t say anything, didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. He simply raised the knife.

  And that’s when the wraith showed up.

  Chapter 5

  It towered over the kid, a massive creature of darkness. Shadows and flesh melded together to form a body that only marginally resembled that of a human. Three long claws extended from each hand, like curved guillotines.

  The wraith looked at the kid, who stared at it with his mouth agape. The wraith then turned towards the man.

  On the Limbo plane those horrific emotions were clear as day; the rage emanating from the man, and the negativity his kid was shooting towards him. To the wraith, both were just a source of darkness and hatred—obvious food as far as it was concerned.

  But the kid was surrounded in a torrent of magic, while the man was wounded.

  And the first rule of predators is to never pass up on a free meal.

  The wraith raised a clawed arm and slashed at the man. Blood and gore flew as it leapt on to him, snarling and gnawing. The man screamed, while the mother now looked up in horror. Her screams followed soon after. I could literally see the fear solidify along the sound, impenetrable as a wall in Limbo.

  The wraith stopped ravaging the man and looked at the mother. I saw the kid’s aura shift, sensed his shock morphing into action. He was going to scream, to defend his mother—and in doing so, the wraith would turn to him.

  “No, kid, run!”

  If the child heard me, he didn’t show it. Time slowed down as he yelled. I saw it all in painfully slow motion: the aura shifting, ebbing away because he had no control over it, and leaving him vulnerable.

  I saw the wraith shift slightly as it arrived to the same conclusion I did.

  “Ah, crap!”

  I lunged at the kid, wanting to push him out of the way, but instead I phased through the child and found myself inside the wall. Freaked out, I backtracked and was now standing next to the kid’s shoulder.

  The kid stepped back as the wraith stepped towards him. His aura grazed me and a million bolts of lightning went through me.

  This is why dark magic is dangerous. Yes, it can be powerful and destructive, but it has too many pitfalls, too many chinks in the armor that a smart wizard—and I like to think I am one of those—could use against you.

  This kid was not holding anything back. And by that, I mean it literally. His aura contained everything about him.

  Suddenly I knew his name: Jeremy.

  I knew about his peanut allergy, about the scar on his chin he had got when he was seven when he had fallen face-first during a school trip. Nine stitches later and he had been fine. They gave him cherry-flavored candy because he hadn't cried.

  I knew that the abuse had started two years ago. The man—his biological father, as it turned out—had always been an alcoholic but had turned violent when he had gotten demoted at work. Jeremy did not know what his father did exactly, only that he worked in some kind of office and came home smelling like stale coffee and air-conditioned sweat. And the asshole took out his frustrations on his wife and child.

  The wraith loomed ever closer. I had to do something.

  “Jeremy.”

  Suddenly, the kid’s head snapped back, looking directly at me. He jumped up slightly, clearly surprised by my presence there.

  “Jeremy, I’m a friend,” I said, urgently.

  “Ghost?” he managed.

  “Yes, I’m a ghost,” I said. “And so is that thing.”

  The wraith emitted a series of toothy clicks and cocked its head towards Jeremy. One of its claws twitched. It looked at me, clearly pissed off.

  “Listen,” I said. “Close your eyes, Jeremy. Close your eyes and think of light.”

  Even scared out of his mind, the kid frowned. “What?”

  “That thing is attracted to your magic,” I snapped. “Just close your eyes and think of light.”

  Jeremy shivered as the wraith approached, but he must have figured there was nothing he could lose if he did as I asked. He closed his eyes, and immediately the aura calmed down.

  At the same time, I placed myself in the midst of the raging storm in Limbo. I followed my own advice and closed my eyes.

  True, I did not have my magic, but like I said, it was thoughts and emotions that created magic. They gave it shape and purpose. In a place like Limbo, thoughts—clear and purposeful—were worth more than the most badass of spells.

  Calm swept through me, flowing into Jeremy’s aura, which in turn calmed him down in the real world. The wraith snarled at me. It was not quite off Jeremy’s scent, but I had confused it.

  And then the mother screamed again.

  Jeremy’s eyes snapped open, just as the wraith turned to the prone woman. She had her arms in front of her. The wraith slashed them to ribbons. It loomed over her, covering her in darkness as it lashed at her face.

  “Leave my mom alone!” Jeremy grabbed the nearest object, the kitchen knife, and held it trembling in his tiny hands.

  The wraith craned its head back. Blood glistened from its face and chin, growling satisfied over the whimpering mother.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I spat.

  I knew I shouldn’t swear in front of a kid but if there was ever time for an exception, it was now.

  The wraith didn’t get off the mother. One of its clawed hands pressed into the mother’s belly, eliciting a louder, blood-curdling scream.

  “It’s baiting you, kid,” I said. “Back away.”

  Jeremy stood there. I knew he would not leave. Hell, I wouldn’t. The knife stopped trembling and an expression of resolution covered his face.

  This kid was ready to fight. And if he was going to fight, he should do it right.

  “Throw the knife,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Listen to me,” I ordered the kid, grabbing onto his shoulder. My hand partially phased through, but I knew he could feel something. “I want you to focus everything you have on the knife. Throw it hard and imagine a slingshot. Can you do that?”

  Jeremy nodded. Instantly, his aura flowed into his right hand and coalesced into the knife. From Limbo, I could see the influx of magic pressing into the metal lattice of the knife blade.

  You had to hand it to the kid, he was no slouch.

  He didn’t know it but right now he was casting a basic kinesthetic spell. All he had to do was aim and throw. Sure, the knife would not stop the wraith but it might wound it and make it retreat.

  “Now. Throw it!”

  Jeremy threw the knife with a cry. I could see the magic leave him, its sudden separation leaving him exhausted. In the real world, the knife spun like a buzzsaw and shot towards the wraith. The aim was off, and the knife sliced through the wraith’s arm, the one impaling the mother. The creature snarled and its claws twisted,
and I saw the mother’s energy disperse.

  Jeremy fell to his knees, exhausted. He saw his mother’s eyes dull and her life leave her. His aura became a torrent once more as his emotions spiraled out of control, but it had none of its previous potency.

  The wraith hungrily stalked over.

  No.

  Not the kid as well. Two people had already been torn apart. This kid had suffered enough. He would not lead a life of torment and then die.

  So I did the one thing that I never thought myself capable of doing. Within Limbo, where Jeremy’s aura and soul raged out of control, I smashed into it, forcing it aside.

  In short, I possessed Jeremy’s body.

  Any regular ghost would first need to destroy Jeremy’s soul to take over his body, but I only partially took over, merely nudging the soul aside.

  It was one of those things I knew as a wizard.

  Here’s something else I knew how to do: find the magic inside someone and push it to the limit.

  I opened my eyes in the real world, seeing life through the eyes of the boy I was inhabiting. The world and all of its senses came rushing in. I blocked it out, having already gone through it when I was put inside Gil’s voodoo doll.

  Instead, I focused on Jeremy’s magic, forcing it out.

  The wraith stopped in its tracks.

  “That’s right, ugly,” I said in a voice that was akin to Jeremy’s but disturbingly deeper and raspier. “Go back to hell.”

  The light spell was even more basic. I fueled it with Jeremy’s fear and despair, of which there was plenty, along with my own emotions. The resulting spell was a flash-bang. It wasn’t even that powerful—an exploding light bulb would have been better.

  But the wraith was not expecting it and it got caught fully in the face. It screamed and reared back, crashing into the sink and phasing through it.

  I forced Jeremy to his feet and used every ounce of magic and willpower to run away. We bolted out the door and into the deserted street, and as far away as possible from the horror behind us.

  Chapter 6

  When we finally stopped, it was daybreak. The scene would have been romantic were it not for the situation. The first beams of sunlight hit the kid’s face as he sobbed into his knees.

  Daybreak was good. The cycle of night and day helped cleanse any residual magic from the earthly plane; the wraith would have been pushed back to Limbo by now, not to return for at least twelve hours.

  That was good. It gave me time to plan, to come up with a course of action.

  Jeremy had collapsed inside a park and actually blacked out for a bit. That was to be expected I suppose. I can’t even begin to imagine the trauma he was going through. At least, I knew about magic, being born into it—this kid’s world turned upside-down and inside-out in just a few hours.

  Then there was the magical boost I had given him. In the physical world there is no such thing as a glass magician. If your body could not process the necessary magical energies to create a spell, you got burnt out. Muscles tore, bones cracked, insides rotted, that sort of fun.

  But what choice have I had? It had been either that or watch the kid get devoured by the wraith.

  I watched as the kid slept. He looked peaceful, but his fist was clenched. Yeah, I remembered that, when not even falling asleep and letting go could get rid of the darkness your existence had become.

  Hours passed. The kid was still asleep while I wondered. Ghosts don’t sleep. Maybe that’s why they were always moaning. Or maybe they do what I was doing, which was brood and sulk and generally reminisce about my miserable existence.

  The kid woke up after a while. He rubbed his eyes, looked at me, and then closed his eyes. When he opened them again, and saw that I was still there, he was fully awake.

  “No,” I said. “It wasn’t a dream.”

  The boy nodded. His eyes were hard and hollow. “I know.”

  I sat next to him. Since he was propped up next to a tree, I had to concentrate not to phase through it.

  “My name is Erik,” I said.

  The kid nodded.

  “You’re Jeremy, aren’t you?” When he looked at me, incredulous, I added, “I know. This is weird.”

  “Can ghosts even feel weird?”

  I cocked my head. “Really? That’s your first question?”

  Jeremy shrugged. I sighed.

  “I dunno, kid,” I said. “I’ve only been a ghost for a short while. ‘Bout a year, I think. Or so they tell me.”

  “That’s not short.”

  “It is when you die, spend a few days getting chased by the Angel of Death, and then your sister summons you inside a freakin’ doll.”

  Jeremy craned his head to look at me.

  “You’re not very good with kids, are you? You swear too much.”

  So much for my Mr. Miyagi audition.

  I sighed again. “You got me, kid. I have no idea what the hell is going on. All I know is that I have to save the world. Again.”

  “Mom says people who swear go to Hell,” he said.

  “Been there, done that. My roommate is a demon.”

  Jeremy laughed—actually laughed. “You’re funny, mister.”

  “Call me Erik,” I said. “And I wasn’t kidding. He actually is a demon.”

  Jeremy laughed again, then doubled over in a fit of coughing.

  “Relax,” I told him. “The pain will pass.”

  “Why does it hurt?” he asked.

  “Magic,” I said. “You used too much of it and you’re untrained.”

  “I did what you told me,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Then after a while, “I’m sorry.”

  Jeremy remained quiet. He didn’t cry, didn’t sob. He just sat there, processing the fact that life as he knew it was over.

  I could have said something, maybe explained the afterlife, Heaven and Hell, as best I could. Aside from demons like Amaymon, I had also met actual angels—though the ones I knew were stoic warriors with the sense of humor of a potato. Or maybe I could have talked about magic.

  But no.

  The kid needed to process this while knowing that he wasn’t alone. You don’t do that by talking. You do it by being there, plain and simple.

  “Why did it attack us?” Jeremy asked after a minute.

  “It’s called a wraith,” I said. “They are kinda like evil ghosts that eat up negative emotions. And last night there was a lot of that going around in your house.” I swallowed the boiling anger rising up. “I’m sorry.”

  “Was it my fault?” Jeremy looked at me, his eyes watery.

  Damn, this kid was smart. He instantly picked up on the fact that his emotions were the ones out of control.

  What was it gonna be, Erik? Tell the kid the truth, that, yes, it was his fault that a wraith crossed the threshold and annihilated his family.

  Or maybe…

  “No,” I lied. “Your magic was out of control but it was not your fault. It was your father’s fault. He’s the bad guy here.”

  Jeremy looked at me, his eyes hard, trying to see if I was full of it. Even as a ghost, I felt power emanating from him.

  Suddenly, it was gone and Jeremy slid back down along the tree.

  “It’s okay to be sad,” I said.

  “I’m not sad,” he snapped. “My father beat us. He deserved to die.”

  The ice in his voice hit me the wrong way.

  “Listen, Jeremy,” I said. “You have magic, and that magic is powered by your feelings. Which means that if you only feel hate and anger, that is all you will become.” I paused, before I hit the point home. “You’ll turn into a monster, just like the wraith. Or your father.”

  He snarled at me and stood up, planting his feet squarely before me.

  “I am not like him!”

  I stood up as well. Dead or not, you do not intimidate me.

  “No, you’re not,” I replied. “But you could become like him. Unless you learn to use your powers. You have to control them, and control yo
urself.”

  We locked eyes for a minute.

  Kids! They always have to test limits and push boundaries.

  “Fine,” he said.

  I tried not to hold it against him. The kid had just become an orphan in the worst way possible, and his only guide was a ghost.

  “I can help you,” I said. “I am—was—a wizard.”

  He nodded. “I recognize you from the TV.”

  Yep. That’s me, all right. Erik Ashendale, infamous wizard and occasional police consultant. Every time I showed up to a crime scene, the media would have a field day.

  “Yeah,” was all I said.

  “But you’re dead,” he said. “How can you help me?” His eyes widened. “Are you like Obi Wan?”

  I nodded. “Okay, one: props for being a Star Wars fan,” I said. “And two: I am actually on a mission to come back to life.”

  His eyes widened. “Like a zombie?”

  “No,” I said, perhaps a little too quickly. Zombies do not bring back good memories for me. “Nothing like that. I will simply return to my body and become human again.”

  “Can ghosts do that?”

  “Wizard ghosts can,” I said. “Or at least, I am gonna try.”

  He nodded, suddenly enthusiastic.

  “Okay, listen up, Jeremy,” I said. “As you know, I’m crap with kids, so I’m not gonna treat you like one. You down with that?”

  He nodded again.

  “Good,” I said. “Because you and I are gonna have to save the world.”

  Skipping the more painful details, I caught Jeremy up to speed on the situation.

  Essentially, because I meshed with his aura, the kid was the only one who could see me without being a wizard and peering into the Limbo plane.

  I could have gone to my office by my ghostly self—and likely, would have spent an eternity calling out to Abi in vain. Unless prompted to, most magic users don’t peer into Limbo. We have found that it doesn't really benefit our mental health.

  Which essentially meant I needed someone real and solid to tell her to look beyond the veil and towards me.