Broken

by Monica Rossi

  “Sidney Sanderson you still have a choice to make,” the man stood in front of her, face covered in a leather mask, with a tall headdress of antlers making it seem like he towered above her. “But you must make that choice with the full knowledge of what you are agreeing to. Our circle has few rules, but the ones we have are sacred.”

  “They are as follows,” The woman continued, she was small and delicate. A gown of the lightest blue draping around her and clinging to her curves. She looked like Tatiana out of A Midsummer’s Night Tale, complete with flowers in her hair. “First: You shall do no harm.”

  Sidney could handle that, it was part of the Hippocratic Oath and though the Veterinary Oath was different, she still believed in it.

  “Second: As always, there are those who would harm us, and as all other generations before us you shall keep our truths in secret. The truth about our identity, the truths about our knowledge, the truth about our very existence, all shall be guarded jealously.”

  Again, that wouldn’t be a problem. Who was going to believe her anyway.

  “Third and lastly: You will keep our bloodlines pure. While friendships, or even love, will be found with any and all the forms of creation, you will only procreate with humans or other witches, all other pairings are forbidden.”

  Sidney unconsciously chewed her lip. What about Red. How could she agree to never have children with him without talking to him first. Though, it wasn’t like they’d gotten married, or even talked about anything that far ahead. And he already had a child, he might not be interested in having anymore.

  “You must make your decision now. Can you abide by these rules and walk this path with us? Or will you go forth, all your new knowledge forgotten, and forge your own path without this circle?”

  She looked at Cord, she knew he could hear all of these doubts running through her head. She tried to picture a world where everything she’d been given that night, the realization that she wasn’t to blame for everyone else’s shortcomings, the feeling of being one with creation from tree to otter to the smallest child, the knowledge that all of this was hers to use as she willed, didn’t exist and she felt empty inside. Could she go back to being plain old Sidney after this? A world where everything was dull and grey had been given brilliant color, and she couldn’t let go of it for a hypothetical child that might never have existed anyway.

  “I will walk with you,” she said, her voice trembling as she spoke.

  The man smiled, flashing white teeth against his dark coffee skin, “Then be welcome, sister, for tonight you are reborn.”

  The crowd around her erupted in cheers of “Welcome!” and “Merry Met!” and “Huzzah!”

  Bree walked towards her, a platter in hand, “Be blessed by fire, Sister” she said as she passed a lit candle near Sidney’s face, the flame almost touching skin.

  “Be bessed by air, Sister,” the woman in the fairy dress took a large feather and fanned incense against her body.

  Fran and another woman came from the edge of the circle to stand beside her. “Be blessed by Water, Sister,” Fran said as she dipped her fingers in a large chalice and sprinkled it on Sidney’s head, giving her a mischievous smile as she did so, it was the most emotion Sidney had ever seen her display.

  “Be blessed by Earth, Sister,” the other woman said, her face split with an irresistible toothy grin. She was dressed in all the shades of brown, her broom skirt made of patches that seemed like it would blend into the forest with ease. She took a pinch of dirt from the pile on the platter and sprinkled it across her shoulders and head.

  Bree called out with a loud booming voice that shook Sidney out of her passive enjoyment of the moment and demanded that she pay attention.

  “Let the universe take note,

  let all here witness,

  the binding of an oath,

  the adding of a Sister.

  From this day unto eternity,

  she shall ever be, one with us,

  our kindred, our family.”

  Bree raised a knife high into the air, holding it with both hands.

  “As above,” she called and then plunged the knife deep into the dirt at her feet, “and so below. As we mote, so shall it be.”

  “As we mote, so shall it be,” the crowd repeated after her.

  Sidney’s chest filled with unexpected emotion. She’d finally found a place to call her own, a place she belonged, a family to learn from.

  In a whisper, voice held back by threatening tears, she repeated their words, “As we mote, so shall it be.”

  Red was beyond aggravated. He was almost to the point where the only options were violence or frustrated tears. And there was no doubt of which one he’d choose, the only question was, who would be on the receiving end?

  “What are you telling me Demon? Are you telling me that you saw a ghost, a motherfucking ghost, that told you that Big Dog is working with some rich mystery man who is plotting the destruction of every person who isn’t fully human?” Red listened as Demon explained that that was indeed what he was telling him. He ran a hand through his hair.

  “Oh, ok, because for a minute there I thought I was going crazy.” He walked through the door to the main area of the clubhouse, letting it bang against the wall behind him, “Listen, I don’t give a good goddamn what kind of drugs you’ve found on your little adventure, but I want Big Dog here and I want him here now. Bash him on the head, tie him up and throw him in a sack, pack him up and UPS the cocksucker to me. I don’t give a shit how you do it, just get his ass here now.” He slammed the phone down on the bar, causing the case and the battery to separate.

  That was fantastic, he hadn’t wanted to take any more phone calls anyway. Unless it was from Sidney, and who the hell knew where she was. He grabbed a beer out of the cooler on the other side of the bar and sat down. Luckily, for everyone, the clubhouse was mostly empty, everyone had gone to find some dinner or had decided to congregate and gossip like school girls, and he had the bar to himself. Otherwise things might have gotten ugly for whoever was dumb enough to try mentioning Big Dog to him one more time.

  He’d just left a meeting with all of the voting members of the Dogs. Which had gone great, just great.

  Price, as acting president, had sat at the head of the table, where he had done jack shit to keep order or try to calm the guys down.

  And they needed calming down, because they were on the verge of a full-scale meltdown. One that would result in the Club fracturing, leaving Three Rivers open to attack from any rival club, or anything else for that matter. Which is just what they needed at the moment.

  “What the fuck is actually going on,” Moose had demanded, several of the other guys nodding their agreement. A lot of them had theories but nobody had any hard evidence to support them. Some thought Big Dog had been kidnapped, like Price had, some of them thought he’d gotten killed and just hadn’t been found. None of them had any theories that were anywhere close to the truth. All of them sat there bickering back and forth over what had happened and why though thought should be done. And Price hadn’t said a word, just let them squabble like so many chickens. Hell, Red didn’t know the whole truth, but he knew that Big Dogs, Trainz, and BillCo had conspired with the Hellhounds against the Dogs for some reason, he just didn’t know what that reason was.

  Which was what he’d sent Demon to find out. He should have gone his damn self, that way he wouldn’t have to listen to alcohol fueled stories about fucking ghosts and shit. Goddamned Demon. Goddamned Donny-O too.

  If it weren’t for goddamned Donny-O he wouldn’t be in the position he was in now. He’d decided to chime his happy ass in on the discussion, letting the whole damn club know that Red was looking into the situation, using Squint to listen out for anything weird going on in the Club. Which he couldn’t do anymore because Donny-O had told everyone. Then he’d let it be known that Red had sent Demon out to search for the missing members, which was met with much approval and several comments about Demon’s prowess as
a tracker, a fighter, and as a stand up guy in general. Red ground his teeth at the thought. He wondered how many would still feel like sucking Demon’s cock after they heard the half bakde shit he’d called with. A fucking ghost.

  The Club then decided to take a vote. On making Red acting President until shit was straightened out. A vote that passed unanimously. Motherfucking unanimously, minus one. Red hadn’t voted for that shit, nor did he want any part of it, he was trying to work his way out of the Club, not further up the ladder.

  Tinker sat down at the bar beside him and Red didn’t even glance up at him. “So, you’ve got a shitpile on your plate,” he said.

  “That’s about right,” Red wasn’t in the mood to chit chat. He was in the mood to fuck shit up.

  “Any idea about what you’re going to do?”

  The beer slammed on the table, “I look like a fucking idea man? You see any fucking glasses on my face, a pocket protector in my shirt pocket? Fuck no. I ain’t an ideas man. I’m the whore man, you want whores, I got plenty, but I’m fresh the fuck out of ideas.”

  Tinker got up and eased away, “Sorry man, just thought you might want to talk.”

  Red didn’t even turn to face him.

  “You’ve got to chill the fuck out,” Donny-O came up behind him.

  “I ain’t gotta do shit. How bout you chill the fuck out with running your mouth like a little bitch. First you lay shit out in front of Demon and now this shit with the whole entire Club. You think I don’t have enough going on without every man here on my ass about Big Dog?”

  “Hey, the guys had a right to know you had shit under control. And no matter how much you hate his ass, you need Demon, man. I thought you saw that. You weren’t ever going to be able to find those guys on your own.”

  “You trying to say I can’t track?”

  “I’m saying you can’t track like Demon, and you know it asshole.”

  Red didn’t acknowledge that bit of truth, just reached over the counter and grabbed another beer. “Yeah, well right now he’s either stoned out of his gourd or he’s having some mental issues, cause he just called me talking about ghosts and superhumans and other such bullshit.”

  Donny-O processed this information by taking a sip of his own beer, “He’s a freaky fuck, but I never seen him do more than a line of coke every once in a while. Doesn’t even smoke weed. You sure he wasn’t speaking in some kinda code?’

  “If he is then he didn’t give me the decoder ring,” Red got up from the bar, “But I’m calling it a night. I’ve got to get home to Morgan.”

  Donny-O nodded, and motioned his farewell with his beer. “Hey wait,” he called, “Here’s your phone,” Donny-O snapped the pieces back together for him and handed it over. “Get some rest man, you look like you need it.”

  Red had had enough of all the bullshit for at least this day. He was going to go home and play Go Fish and pretend everything wasn’t fucked five ways from Friday.

  Demon stared at the phone. He was going to beat the ever loving fuck out of Red the next time he saw him.

  “You should have left me out of it,” the disembodied voice said from the general vicinity of his left shoulder.

  “I should have left you dead, bitch,” Demon shoved the phone in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He was going to need to figure out how to get rid of this ghost somehow. She was the most annoying soul he’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. She hated everything. She hated all things not-exactly-human, she hated most humans, she hated her family, she hated motorcycles and the men who rode them, she hated everything. They’d walked past a poodle and she’d felt the need to mention how much she hated poodles. But more than all of that combined, she hated Frederick. And he’d had to hear about it non stop the entire time since he’d pulled her from the gates of hell. And he was sure that’s where she’d been, because even Jesus wouldn’t have had the patience for this shit.

  “Probably, but you didn’t.”

  “Could you please just go towards the light now? I’m sure you have some family members who are dying to see you.” He checked the knob on his motel room door to make sure it was locked and started walking towards the convenience store across the street.

  “Don’t you think that if I saw a light I would go there asshole?”

  “Well, go to the darkness, I don’t give a fuck, just leave me alone.”

  After she’d calmed down from the realization that she was dead, she’d been all too happy to tell him about the plans her Fredrick had. Or what she knew of them anyway. Now all he had to do was convince Red and the Dogs that this was a real threat and not some bad urban fantasy novel he’d found in the thrift shop. Which was exactly what it sounded like.

  Come to find out Mr. Richey Rich had been funding some neato science projects that turned humans into “superhumans” and the man was obsessed with killing off all the other ‘special’ species so that his chosen few could stand unopposed as the clear winners of the super race. He literally wanted to pull a Hitler. Demon shook his head. You never go full evil dictator, it never worked out well. Didn’t anyone watch the History Channel anymore?

  The only problems now were: one – he had a fucking ghost riding his shoulder, two – it was highly unlikely he was going to get anyone to believe this without some serious fucking evidence, three – he had no idea where to get said evidence, four – he didn’t even know what abilities these ‘superhumans’ possessed, which meant he didn’t know if they could kick his ass, and five – the ghost riding his shoulder was a non-stop talker and a bitch to boot.

  “As if I want to hang around you. Jesus Christ. I’d go somewhere if I could. I’d go haunt Fredrick’s creepy ass.” Her voice warmed, “I’d love to throw all of his clothes across the room, rearrange his shoe closet, put his salt and pepper shakers on the wrong side of his plate!” she crowed, enjoying the visualization. “That would really screw with him.”

  “He must be OCD.”

  “You have no idea. Everything has to be done just so. His socks and underwear have to be laid out at a certain angle to his pants on the bed every morning. The bed has to be made up with an eight inch fold down of the comforter. He’s a fucking nutcase, I should have never have gotten involved with him. He gave me the willies from the beginning.”

  “He gave you the willies? How many does he have? I might be interested in trying these experimental drugs you were speaking of.”

  Veronica materialized in front of him, floating backwards to keep pace with his walking, “You’re hilarious,” she said in a voice that meant she thought anything but.

  “I try, but it’s work,” Demon opened the door to the 7-Eleven only to find it packed with people, some giving him second glances as he walked by, which was normal even when he wasn’t apparently talking to himself. “Why don’t you tell me about what powers he does have. I mean can he fly like superman, or teleport, or transform into a giant hulk that wants to smash things? What’s the deal.”

  She’d been vague on the details thus far, only giving him general information without a lot of pertinent tidbits he could work with.

  “Oh you know, the normal.”

  “The normal superpowers you get from doing science? I don’t think eye protectors and lab coats can be considered a true ‘superpower’.”

  “No, like super strength and speed.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I don’t fucking know. I was his girlfriend not his sidekick,” she flew ahead of him to look at the snack aisle. “Do you think I can eat? I’d love to have a Twinkie. I’d love a Twinkie right now,” she asked, holding her head close to the little spongy cakes.

  “Mmm, doubt it,” he grabbed a Twinkie anyway, just so he could make sure to eat it in front of her. “Pretty sure you gave all that up when you decided to bite the big one,” he waved the plastic wrapped package in her face. A look of pure hatred came over her and she evaporated in a swirl of anger.

  More people were staring at him. He really didn’t care,
he’d taught himself a long time ago to stop worrying about the opinions of others, and that lesson had served him well. He paid for his purchases and made his way back to the hotel room.

  “Ah, home sweet home,” he said to no one as he entered the smoky smelling room. Dingy and bare, it served its purpose. He flopped onto the bed, the large floral print blanket must be a staple at the motel supply depot, because the same one seemed to adorn every bed in every crap dive he’d stayed in.

  He probably should be trailing Big Dog to see if he could get any more information, but that shit was played out. If he had to listen to BillCo rub one out in the bathroom again he might just commit some crime against humanity. Besides, he knew where they were, he knew who they were working for, and he knew why. He wasn’t in any hurry to get Big Dog and the others back to the Dogs until he knew exactly what the fuck was going on.

  Besides, what good would it be to leave town without sampling some of the local flavor.

  ***

  Fucking hippies. Fucking hippies everywhere.

  Demon had decided to go hang out at a local bar, maybe pick up someone to have a little fun with. But instead of a place where people might drink a beer and play a game of pool, you know, a bar, he’d found places where people sat and drank microbrews and talked about goddamned genetically engineered corn.

  And it wasn’t just an unlucky choice of bars, he’d been to five and they’d all been the same. Fucking leather couches and books and incense. At the fifth place he gave up and found a seat at the end of the bar, ordering a beer with the least pretentious sounding name, and hoping the place didn’t break out in a spontaneous drum circle.