The Witch's Wrath: Supernatural Suspense Thriller with Ghosts (Jigsaw of Souls Series Book 2)

by Ian Fortey

  Vincent shook his head. In the mirror, her head shook.

  “The ritual was not meant to harm anyone,” she said. “I was deceived.”

  She stared into her own eyes in the mirror. “And I died for my foolishness, it seems.”

  “What was the ritual for?” Vincent asked.

  “I don’t imagine I will ever know what truly happened. It was not what I was promised. It was not what you promised.”

  “I promised you something?”

  “None of this matters now, Vincent. I am dead and you are as useless as a rotten potato. I can’t even take pleasure in smashing this mirror and slicing your throat with glass shards.”

  Vincent took a step back from the mirror. Selena’s reflection smirked.

  “I told you I won’t do that. What’s the point in punishing someone who doesn’t even know why they’re being punished? Goddess, have patience, I don’t even know what you are.”

  “Join the club,” Vincent said.

  “I ain’t joining your club, Vinny,” she said.

  “Vinny?” Fix asked.

  “Vinny. Vincent. You know?”

  “Not really,” Fix said.

  “You boys defeated Bogdan Dalca? I swear someone had cast the Curse of the Everlasting Nightmare on me and this is my personal Hell.”

  Vincent wiped his hands on his pants and Selena made a disgusted sound.

  “Men,” she muttered to herself. Vincent frowned.

  “I don’t know what I can do to make up for what happened,” he began.

  “Don’t. Do not finish that thought,” Selena said. “I don’t want your pitiable, Hallmark ‘Sorry for Killing You’ card moment. Tell me what you intend to do in Burnham.”

  “Get you out of my head,” Vincent said.

  “How?”

  “I have no idea,” he said.

  “Of course. And you intend no harm to my sisters?”

  “I didn’t even know you had sisters,” Vincent said.

  “I need to stop asking you questions, it’s like talking to a ferret,” she said. Vincent felt that was unnecessarily harsh. But she did think he’d murdered her. So he said nothing.

  “We go to Burnham. There is something wrong and we will find my coven. Trust that I want to be out of your head much more than you want me to leave.”

  “What’s wrong in Burnham?” Vincent asked. There was a long pause while Selena looked at herself.

  “I suppose we do have something in common, Vinny. I don’t know, either. But I feel it.”

  “I’ll help you if I can,” Vincent said.

  “My hero,” she said sarcastically. “Go eat, you’re hungry.”

  “Oh. Yeah,” Vincent said. He was hungry. Now he had a second voice in his head that heard, saw, and felt everything he did. Only, this one hated him.

  He glanced at Selena in the mirror one last time. She stared back at him, devoid of expression. He walked out of the bathroom and headed back to the booth. His food was waiting for him, and Dezzy had already started his meal.

  “I was gonna wait for you, man, but you were in there a while. You got the trots or something?”

  “What? No,” Vincent said, taking his seat. He ate a French fry.

  “Just a long whizzer, I get it, man.” Dezzy said, biting a mozzarella stick and pulling the long, stringy cheese away from his mouth. “These are the good ones. Sometimes you bite ’em and they’re like Play-Doh instead, and it’s awful. You want these stretchy ones.”

  “You have an amazing affinity for food,” Vincent said. Dezzy finished the cheese stick and nodded.

  “Man, you be dead for decades and see if you don’t. Food is life, man. You need food to live. To keep a body going, it’s amazing. Do you know what keeps the Prince of Nothing going?” he asked. Vincent shook his head.

  “A dark energy nexus that bulges between the cracks in all dimensions. It’s what energizes the Void, the Scions, the Dimensional Rift, and everything else. You ever had Donkey Juice, man?”

  “What?”

  “You’re at a party and you take whatever booze you got. Like butter ripple schnapps, blue curaçao, crème de menthe—the whole liquor cabinet. Mix it together to make a boozy monstrosity called Donkey Juice.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Dezzy,” Vincent said.

  “I’m saying this nexus is like cosmic energy Donkey Juice. It’s the leftover bits of everything. Heat, nuclear force, light, Death, Life, electromagnetism, you name it. All the forces of creation. The little bits fall off the edges of reality and get mixed up in this nexus and that powers the universe behind the scenes. Would you rather have that or a Reuben sandwich?”

  “Oh. I haven’t tried the sandwich yet,” Vincent said. Dezzy laughed.

  “Eat it, man! It’s so much better than cosmic pudding.”

  The Reuben was on marble rye bread and there were heaps of pastrami and cheese hanging over the edges. Vincent lifted half to his mouth and took a bite.

  “Right?” Dezzy said, nodding and smiling. Vincent couldn’t help but smile as he chewed. The sandwich was good, there was sauerkraut on it which he hadn’t expected, and a creamy sauce with a bit of a bite. But it was Dezzy’s infectious enthusiasm that really made it an experience.

  “Dezzy, I gotta tell you something,” Vincent said, lowering the Reuben while he finished chewing.

  “You go ahead, man,” Dezzy said, taking a bite of his own sandwich.

  “The witch. The one from the field. She’s in my head,” he said. Dezzy nodded, chewing.

  “Didn’t we already establish that?”

  “No. Well, yes, maybe. But she’s there. She can hear us. She was talking to me in the bathroom,” he said.

  Dezzy took another bite and looked Vincent in the eye.

  “She’s like listening to us and stuff?” he asked. Vincent nodded.

  “Is this a good idea?” Fix asked.

  Dezzy lifted a hand and waved at Vincent, setting his sandwich down and wiping his mouth on a napkin.

  “Hello, lady,” he said. “I hope you’re not evil. Is she evil?”

  “I don’t… No. I don’t think she is. But she thinks I murdered her,” Vincent said.

  “Oh yeah? That sucks. Lady, Vincent didn’t kill you. He’s no murderer,” Dezzy said. He picked up his half-eaten burger.

  “I appreciate you saying that, but she remembers it,” Vincent said. Dezzy shrugged.

  “Yeah, and you remembered Bogdan Dalca’s past. Sometimes you remember stuff that isn’t yours to remember.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Vincent said. Selena was quiet in his head.

  “Just saying, memories are shifty buggers, man. What’d you get for your sixth birthday?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t remember anything, Dezzy.”

  “I know. That’s my point. Your memory is crap. You can’t always trust your memories. They lead you astray.”

  “No one can live like that,” Vincent countered. “You need memories to know who you are. Where you’ve been and what you believe.”

  “You seem to be doing okay right now. I mean, I’d hate to not remember Guns N’ Roses and the taste of a meatball sub. I get that. But what if someone made me remember that I hate meatball subs, then what?”

  “Then you wouldn’t eat them anymore.”

  “Exactly. And I love meatball subs. But my awful memory would have lied to me. So, there you go.”

  “I don’t get it, Dezzy.”

  “Look, you had memories once, probably. We assume so, right?”

  “I hope so, yeah.”

  “Okay. So somehow something took those memories from you. And then they gave you Bogdan Dalca’s. And this lady’s. Does she have a name?”

  “Selena,” Vincent said.

  “Hey, I dated a girl in eighth grade named Selena. Is she a short blonde who likes Michael J Fox?
”

  “No,” Vincent said.

  “Well, yeah. Okay, but you have her memories, and those other people’s. If something can take your memories, and give you different memories, how can you really trust any of them when they show up? How do you know the ones you do have are real?”

  “Why wouldn’t they be?”

  Dezzy set down the last bite of his burger and leaned forward, wide eyed.

  “Why wouldn’t they be? Oh man, look at yourself. You just squared off with a necromancer who wanted to suck a Font dry to end the world, man. End it to save it from God knows what. You’re up to your butt in some creepy cosmically dangerous stuff. And I am here for it. But let’s not kid ourselves, someone is definitely messing with you.”

  “Who could do this?”

  Dezzy ate another mozzarella stick and took a sip of his Coke.

  “Now that’s the big prize-winning question. We got a necromancer, we got a witch—and sorry if that’s an offensive term Miss Selena—and we got a Narg’thrasyk, and you can cast resurrection magic. I mean, I dunno, man. This is Prince of Nothing-level stuff. Except in the mortal world, and that ain’t normal. That’s a big rules violation.”

  “There are rules?”

  “Oh yeah. Everything beyond the Veil has to stay there. Throws reality off balance when stuff comes back to the mortal worlds. Little things like my resurrection can get ironed out, eventually. Big things tear up the fabric of creation and maybe you unmake history, or whatever. As I understand it, it’s ugly. This is Final Schism-level stuff.”

  “Dezzy, please. Please explain this like I don’t know what you mean,” Vincent said. He did not know much of what Dezzy meant, but it all sounded bad.

  “Okay, so the Veil is like a door. The eternal energy that powers the core of all mortals passes through the Veil to the other side, where a lot of different things can happen. The Seven Scions help sort you out. It’s like lanes at the grocery store. We get you checked out so you can enjoy eternity wherever you have to go. The Void? A Hell dimension? It’s a fun process of discovery. But it’s a one-way ticket. The door goes in. If someone sneaks back out, it jimmies up the system. But if something that never came from beyond the Veil in the first place tries to sneak out, that’s much worse. Stuff like a Narg’thrasyk shouldn’t be in Oregon.”

  “Do you think the ritual in that field was to bring something from beyond the Veil that doesn’t belong here?” Vincent asked.

  “Count on it,” Dezzy said. He finished his burger.

  “Do you think it succeeded?”

  “That’s a tougher question. Dalca wanted to kill everyone in the world to save them, right? That says yes, the ritual worked. But on the other hand, the world still exists and I would have thought it’d be over by now if something powerful came through. So, I’m stumped.”

  “Yeah. I guess that’s weird,” Vincent said. “What sort of things could have come through?”

  Dezzy took another bite of his Reuben.

  “The Void stretches to infinity. The Dimensional Rift opens to an infinity of infinities. There are literally an endless number of beings out there that could probably swallow the world by yawning. I have no idea, man.”

  “Doesn’t this terrify you?” Vincent asked. Dezzy ate some fries and shrugged.

  “I guess, not really. I’ve already been dead. I’ve been the servant of the Prince of Nothing and seen the eternity that awaits saints, sinners, and everyone in between. I’m just stoked to be having lunch with a friend.”

  Vincent couldn’t help but laugh. He took another bite of his sandwich. It was good to have a friend. He wasn’t sure if he would have been friends with Dezzy in his former life, whoever he may have been. But he was glad to have him here now. The man’s perspective on the world and its potential destruction was oddly comforting.

  “I’m stoked too,” Vincent said. Dezzy leaned forward and squished his sandwich against Vincent’s.

  “Cheers, man.”

  Casey came back and refreshed their drinks. Dezzy ordered more mozzarella sticks and another piece of pie. Vincent opted for some cherry pie.

  “You got a hollow leg or something?” Casey asked Dezzy with a smile. Dezzy shrugged.

  “Casey, your food is delicious and I cannot resist it,” he said.

  “Well, I’ll be sure to let Bobby in the kitchen know,” she said before leaving the table. Dezzy watched her go.

  “I’ll tell you, man, I ain’t had a date in decades either. When we’re done with all this craziness, I’m coming back here and seeing if she’s into G N’ R.”

  “I hope it works out for you,” Vincent said.

  “You can be my best man,” Dezzy said. “Selena in there, can be my maid of honor. If she’s not evil.”

  “The bride has a maid of honor,” Vincent said. Dezzy shrugged.

  “I never been married before, what do I know?”

  “I wonder if I was,” Vincent said. He finished his fries while Dezzy polished off his second Coke. Casey brought them their pie and the mozzarella sticks.

  “Thank you, Casey,” Dezzy said. He dug into the cheese sticks again, offering one to Vincent. He couldn’t recall if he’d ever eaten one before, so he took one and tried it.

  “Cheese is one of mankind’s greatest inventions. It’s up there with the wheel and the guitar,” Dezzy said. “But also, no worries about your past, man. We’ll crack that nut. If we live long enough.”

  “Comforting,” Vincent said. The molten cheese burned his lip as he tried to manage the long, melty strings.

  “I like eating with you. You’re like a food baby. Everything is brand new to you,” Dezzy said. “We should order steak.”

  “Later. I can’t eat any more. And I’ve had steak.”

  “Still. I want steak. Dinner, okay?”

  “Sounds good,” Vincent agreed. They would probably be at their destination by dinner. In the town of Burnham—where something was wrong, according to Selena. It wasn’t much to go on. But he wanted to help her if he could. If for no other reason than to prove he was not the man she thought he was. Or at least, not anymore.

  There was no real reason for it, but Vincent did not feel she was the same kind of person as Bogdan Dalca had been. She was there in that place with them, and she was engaged in the same ritual. But his gut told him she was not doing it for the same reasons as Dalca. Not a selfish power grab or whatever he might have been planning.

  Vincent needed to know what the ritual was. If he could understand that, he could start unraveling what had happened. But Dalca had refused to discuss it. His words seemed to indicate that whatever happened was worse than what he had expected. And with Selena claiming a betrayal, the story was starting to add up to a scam. Someone had tricked some very powerful people into performing some kind of ritual. Lies had been told, and the truth ended up being deadly for everyone. Everyone but Vincent.

  In his heart, he did not want to believe himself capable of murder. Bogdan Dalca was a bad person. Maybe even evil. But was Selena? And Fix? And the child he had seen in the field? Vincent did not think they could have all been evil. And even if they were, who was he to have made that judgment? What kind of person could have killed five people in cold blood?

  The other thought that plagued Vincent was the how. Bogdan Dalca was a necromancer. A powerful one. Selena was a witch. The three others must have had abilities as well. How could Vincent have murdered them all? Maybe he could have got the drop on one, even two. But five? And they were not even all killed in the same way. It would have taken time. Time and ability. How could he have overpowered and then killed all five?

  The more Vincent thought about it, the more obvious the answer became. He couldn’t have done it. Not alone. Someone had to have helped him. But if that were the case, what happened to that person? Or people? He needed more information, more of his own memories. All he had to go on was the accusation from Selena. He had murdered her. Stabbed her to death. Bu
t neither of them knew why.

  “Anything else you need, Hungry Man?” Casey asked, coming to their table again. Dezzy looked at Vincent.

  “I think we’re good. Just the bill is great,” Vincent said. She smiled at Dezzy.

  “Coming right up,” she said, walking away again.

  “You think she digs me?” Dezzy asked.

  “Maybe,” Vincent said. She was friendly. But then again, that was part of the business. “Ask for her number.”

  “I don’t have a phone. Do you have a phone?”

  “No.”

  “Then what can I do with her number?”

  “We could find a phone,” Vincent said. Dezzy nodded.

  “Yeah. Yeah, we could. Then I could call her and we could date. This is a good plan, man.”

  “Glad to help,” Vincent said. Casey returned and put a slip of paper on the table with a couple of tiny red-and-white-striped mints.

  “It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen,” she said. Dezzy smiled at her.

  “It has! Can I ask you a question?” Dezzy said. Vincent picked up the bill and looked over it. Feeding Dezzy was an expensive habit. He pulled some money and laid it on the table.

  “You can,” Casey said, clearly intrigued.

  “I was wondering if you would be interested in giving me a phone number that I could use at a later date to call you and arrange for some kind of date between the two of us. Do you like Guns N’ Roses?” Dezzy said.

  “That’s question disguised as a thought and then a real question,” Casey answered.

  “Oh. Am I disqualified?” She laughed at him.

  “I am not supposed to date customers,” she said to him in a conspiratorial tone. “And I am not sure what Guns N’ Roses are.”

  “Oh my God,” Dezzy said. “I can...you should listen, man. Even if we don’t go out. Like, for your own personal growth.”

  “They’re a band?” she said.

  “Casey, my heart is breaking right now,” Dezzy said. She laughed again. “If it helps, I will never come back to this diner again. I can’t be a customer if I never come back.”

  “All right, Hungry Man. Why don’t you give me your number?”

  “I don’t have a number,” Dezzy said. Casey looked at him sideways.