The Last Coven (The Tome of Bill Book 8)

by Rick Gualtieri

  This is a sacred place, oaf!

  “To the cockroaches, maybe,” I shot back. “But then you’d be right at home with them, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’ll explain everything,” Christy said to me, “but, if you’re going to stay, then stay silent.”

  Tom walked into the room and tapped a fist on Decker’s noggin. “Want me to skull fuck this asshole, Bill? I can do that. I checked.”

  “Maybe later,” I replied.

  “The same goes for you,” Christy said to him. “In the circle.”

  “But...”

  “Now.”

  Whatever this new body might be, a backbone apparently wasn’t part of the deal. My friend sheepishly complied. Once he stepped inside, multi-hued color began to flicker around him.

  As Christy placed Decker at one point of the pentagram and took a seat at another, I turned to the other witches and made a whip cracking motion with my hand. That at least got a smile from Kelly, although it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  The rest then took seats at the other points.

  I opened my mouth, hoping to prompt that explanation Christy had promised, but she held up a hand.

  Fine. I could be patient.

  Well, not really. I leaned against the wall and began tapping my fingers.

  Whatever they were doing was already prepped and ready to go. There was no ceremony or stupid shit like that. They all joined hands – except for Decker, for obvious reasons. However, the witches on either side of him reached over and touched his skull. They had to stretch to do so, but once done, that apparently completed some sort of magical circuit. Power crackled in the room and when Christy opened her mouth to speak an incantation, it sounded as if her voice was coming through a megaphone.

  The others joined her, speaking in something that sounded vaguely like Latin.

  Thankfully, it didn’t last long. After a few minutes of this, the light pulsing around Tom became steady. Finally, Christy and the others broke contact. A slight sheen of sweat shone on everyone’s brow – again, minus Decker – but that seemed to be about it.

  “This time, stay put until I say it’s finished,” Christy ordered.

  “But I’m bored.”

  Christy fixed Tom with a stare that would have melted stone and he instantly shut up. Whatever this thing was, he sure acted like my roommate.

  I stepped in and offered to help her back to her feet, which she accepted. “So about that glamour thing?”

  It is a thing that should not exist!

  Christy rounded on Decker. “We’ve already discussed this. Do you want to go back in the box?”

  Well, that sounded ominous ... for someone I liked anyway. For Decker, I was kinda hoping he’d go on.

  Sadly, he fell silent, the purple light he emanated taking on a sulking sort of quality. I really needed to stop attributing emotions to a stupid light-up skull.

  Christy turned to her sisters, but Meg was apparently ready for her.

  “I’ll stick around and make sure he stays put until he’s done baking.”

  “Baking?” Tom asked.

  “Figure of speech.”

  Veronica stepped in close to Meg and whispered to her, too low for human ears, “Be careful.”

  Now I was really intrigued.

  “I’ll explain over coffee,” Christy said to me.

  “Might have to be over tap water,” I replied. “The power seems to be out. Did something happen to the glowing thingee?” I glanced over toward the circuit panel, noting the distinct lack of an Apollo’s ballsack anywhere to be seen.

  “No, it’s fine.” Christy walked past me to the stairs. “We just had to transplant it.”

  “Transplant it?”

  “Into the glamour,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s what’s keeping him corporeal.”

  THE NOSE KNOWS

  As the four of us made our way to the ground floor apartment the witches had appropriated, I contemplated how best to say what was going through my mind.

  “Are you fucking insane?” Hmm, that had sounded a bit more diplomatic in my head.

  Kelly unlocked the door, trying to hide the faint grin on her face.

  Christy however simply replied, “It’s okay, Bill.”

  “Define okay.”

  “Number three,” Kelly said.

  “Huh?”

  “Not you.”

  While I stared in confusion, she and Veronica grasped hands. A soft white glow gathered in their clenched fists, then spread out across their bodies to their free hands. Little twinkles of light, almost like fireflies, fanned out from them, covering the room and illuminating it.

  “I’m guessing you guys typically save a lot on your power bill,” I remarked, following Christy into the living room while the two other witches headed into their kitchen nook. If I had to guess, whipping up some hot coffee sans electricity wouldn’t be an issue for them. Also, retreating to the kitchen gave Christy and me space while still keeping them in prime eavesdropping distance. Clever girls.

  “I’ll be perfectly honest with you, Bill,” Christy said, looking me in the eye, “it’s been really hard for me – seeing Tom like that.” She tried to keep her voice slow and steady, but my sensitive ears could pick up more nuances than most: a slight pause here, a hitched breath there.

  Though I was the last person anyone should ever come to for comfort, I wasn’t a completely insensitive douche. I reached over and put a hand on hers. “Tom was ... is my best friend in this entire world. I understand.”

  “No.” Her eyes began to glisten. “You really don’t.”

  I’d known Tom since kindergarten. We’d spent more time together than most married couples, so I was willing to wager against that. However, I thought better of it and managed to keep my yap shut.

  “I failed him,” she said.

  “No...”

  “Yes,” she insisted. “I failed him and, worse, I cursed him to that undeath, that living Hell.”

  “We had no way of knowing what that Jahabich crap would do to him, how it would affect our efforts to ... bring him back.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” Her eyes hardened against mine and I was tempted to shrink back from them. “I’ve played that moment over and over again in my head almost nonstop since it happened. And you know what? I’m not sure. No matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise, I know I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him to stay ... in any capacity. Their blood was the catalyst, but I was the spark and I think, even if it was subconscious on my part, that somehow I guided or nudged his soul into that vessel.”

  “So what if you did?” I replied. “I didn’t want him to go either.”

  “He’s not at peace.”

  “Have you listened to him talk? He doesn’t sound like he’s in eternal torment either.”

  “He’s just being brave.”

  I actually laughed, probably not the best time to do so. Judging by the momentary cessation of rattling pots in the kitchen, the other two witches were thinking the same thing. “Now it’s my turn to tell you you’re wrong. I know Tom, maybe even better than I know myself. And I can tell you he’s not one to be brave for the sake of others. I’ve seen him cry about his impending doom over a fucking paper cut. He’s a brother to me, so please don’t think I’m being cruel saying this, but he can be ... well, a self-centered asshole when he wants to be.”

  A part of me was certain I’d crossed a line. Though my words had been true, I was very much expecting to have to quickly duck and cover. Instead, though, Christy actually grinned. “He is at that, but he’s my self-centered asshole.”

  “And I know he’s happy to be that.” I leaned back in. “Trust me, if he’s busy yammering about mundane stuff, that’s probably about as deep as it gets. Though I’m sure it sucks to be a Ken doll, I am certain of one thing. He’s not suffering.”

  “Thanks, Bill. I can only hope you’re right.”

  I glanced over at the kitchen where I could se
e a red glow coming from the stove. Ah yes, magic. Had I been given a choice, I’d have definitely chosen that over this undead bullshit. “So what did you do?”

  She took a deep breath and sighed. “You’re familiar with glamours, right?”

  Drawing upon my D&D expertise, I nodded. “They’re basically illusions, right?”

  “In a sense. They come in many shapes, sizes, and intensities. At their weakest, they’re exactly that – an optical illusion, nothing more. At their strongest, though, they can be a full physical manifestation – power given the consistency of actual matter. We’re talking sight, smell, sound, touch; all of it. A powerful enough glamour can fool anyone, even someone with your senses, because it is essentially real for a time.”

  “For a time?”

  “That’s the caveat. The stronger the glamour, the more complex it is to create and the harder it is to maintain. There’s also a personal aspect to it. I could physically change my hair to blonde and you’d never know it hadn’t come out of a bottle.”

  “Like Sally’s?” I joked.

  She chose to ignore me. “I could maintain something like that almost indefinitely if I wanted to. At the very least, for weeks on end. If I were to expand it, however, and try to make everyone in this apartment building a blonde, for instance, it would be a lot tougher to maintain, especially the further you got from me.”

  “Okay, I think I’m following.”

  “So that brings us to Tom. He’s essentially helpless as he was. Though what happened to him might have been similar to what happens to the Jahabich, it was indirect and on a much smaller scale. He inhabits the body of that doll, but he hasn’t merged with it. It’s not a full-scale possession.”

  “Even if it was, I’m not sure a twelve-inch bride of Chucky would be much less helpless.”

  “Exactly. Leaving him behind isn’t an option this time. The Source is his only chance.” She placed her hands over her stomach. “Our only chance. But taking him down there like he was...”

  “Hell, even if you accidentally dropped him, that would be...” I stopped, realizing I was venturing into insensitive prick territory with that line of thought. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. And you’re right. How many times have we been caught and stripped of our possessions? Anything could happen to him down there and if it did, he’d be helpless to do anything except cry for help.”

  “Which wouldn’t carry too far underground.”

  She nodded ruefully. I was beginning to see where this was going. What she was saying made practical sense. However, there was a selfish aspect to it all. Not that I was about to mention it. Fuck, if given the choice between Doll-Man Tom and Illusion Tom, I know which one I’d choose to have around.

  “That’s when I got an idea. A personal glamour can act as an extension of ourselves. If I give myself tentacles instead of hands, they’ll work as I will them, almost as if I’d been born with them.”

  “You didn’t give him...”

  She narrowed her eyes, shutting me up. “So, using that logic, a personal glamour of his original body cast around his existing one would, in essence, be as if he were whole again.”

  “Why his original body? Why not some six foot ten muscle jock?”

  She smiled. “That’s exactly what he asked. You two really do know each other a little too well. Anyway, call it personal preference.”

  “Understandable.”

  “That’s what I ... ugh. Hand me that throw pillow please.” I did so and she positioned it under the small of her back. “Much better, thanks. I swear I can’t wait to push this kid out.”

  Kelly and Veronica chose that moment to join us, each carrying two steaming mugs of joe. Kelly handed me one and I took a sip. Yeesh. Magic could do wonders for heating it up, but apparently didn’t do jack shit when it came to making it palatable.

  “Okay.” I put the cup down so as to try to steer us back on track. “So a personal glamour.”

  “A super tough one at that,” Veronica replied.

  “Yeah, but like you said, the more complex, the harder to maintain. And Tom’s downstairs while we’re...” I trailed off. Oh boy. “The prism.”

  “It was Kelly’s idea,” Christy said proudly.

  I glanced over, and the look on Kelly’s face made it seem more like she wished she’d never opened her mouth. “All I said was it was a shame we couldn’t hook up a car battery or something to keep it going.”

  “That was enough to start me thinking,” Christy continued, a slight manic gleam in her eye. “The prism is a self-sustaining power source. Hard to conjure, a group effort definitely, but worth it. I mean, it’s been more than enough to keep this building humming for months now. It took a little creative hexing and we needed Harry to weigh in on it.”

  “Which explains why he’s all happily glowing again,” I muttered.

  “But in the end, we did it. A tangible glamour, almost indistinguishable from his original form, but maintained by an autonomous power source.”

  “Almost indistinguishable,” I echoed. “Wait, earlier when he was in the apartment, I didn’t smell him. I mean, the place already has his scent, but ... sorry to say this, it’s been getting stale. I should have noticed him.”

  “That was purposeful,” Veronica said. She was the youngest of the bunch and seemed far more caught up in the coolness of what they’d created. “I mean, he’ll pick up residual odors – like what he’s wearing, what he steps in, et cetera. But he’s an olfactory null.”

  “Let me guess; so vamps can’t sniff him out.”

  “It’s a lesson I picked up from that little bitch,” Christy said. “I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but she used it effectively up in Massachusetts against those Forest Folk. Who knows? I might have to revise my estimate of her usefulness at some point.”

  WHO WATCHES THE WATCHERS?

  I, of course, mentioned – as gently as possible – my concerns regarding the prism. They weren’t aware that Gan had told me about its true destructive potential. Even so, I’d seen what it had done to our home invaders. Whether it was blowing us all to Kingdom Come or melting anyone in close proximity to it, I felt these were valid concerns.

  Christy was pretty dismissive of it, though, citing precautions they’d taken. However, I couldn’t help but wonder if there might have been a bit of wishful thinking going on there. She’d initially been aghast at Tom’s resurrection as Max Adventure, cheesy seventies action figure. She’d warmed up to his situation a bit after Vehron was defeated, but there’d been a walking on eggshells feel to it. Now, though, I’d only seen them interact for a few minutes, but she already seemed much more her old self around him.

  Fuck it. It wasn’t like we weren’t in a shit ton of danger already. Who was I to deny the poor girl a little peace of mind?

  I decided I’d grilled her enough for one evening. Besides, there were other topics of magical interest I was wondering about. “What about the other stuff you guys have been working on?”

  “What other stuff?” At the sight of my eyes narrowing, she actually let out a laugh. “Relax, Bill. I haven’t forgotten about Kala, Alex, or the Jahabich.” Her voice grew hard for a moment. “Trust me.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Slow. Harry is being difficult about cooperating. He’s still hung up on Kala. But we’re working on it. That’s still priority number one.”

  I could only hope she meant it. Awesome as it was to have seen my friend in the glamoured flesh and blood, it wouldn’t mean much in the long run if we couldn’t stop the genocidal nutjobs behind all of this.

  After a time, Christy got back up. Apparently, the spell downstairs was nearing the end of its course and it was time to give Tom the all clear. The others went to join her, but I held Kelly back a bit – feigning interest in her tattoos, which was easy because they were pretty awesome. Had she a mind to, she’d have been a shoo-in for a Suicide Girls spread.

  “What do you think?” I asked, once Christy and Veronica
were out of earshot.

  She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “She’s my mentor and my friend.”

  “I’m not asking you to backstab her. I’m just wondering what your thoughts are on this.”

  After a few moments, she stepped further in and lowered her voice. “What I think is we’re in uncharted waters now. I’ve never heard of anything like this being done before. More importantly, none of the others did either, including Christy, and she studies history and shit like that. I mean, the only thing that even comes close to it...”

  “Let me guess. The White Mother?”

  “In spirit, not really, but if we went by the letter of the law...” She cocked her head to the side and raised her shoulders. “Still, Christy has a point. Him coming with us like this is probably a lot more useful than in someone’s pocketbook. But...”

  “But what?”

  “The transfer seems to be stable, but don’t let him fall off any high cliffs or anything.”

  I nodded, the meaning quite clear, then turned to follow the others down to the basement. It was time to reintroduce Tom to society.

  “Wait.”

  “Huh?” I stopped and turned.

  “What do you think of all of this? He’s your friend after all.”

  “I know and I’m glad to have him back. I mean, fuck, I’m not exactly one to judge, am I? I already died once and he didn’t immediately put out a room for rent sign. Would be kind of hypocritical of me to get on a supernatural high horse about this. Besides, that thing you mentioned about how this sorta resembles the White Mother.”

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s one big difference here that gives me comfort. Calibra could potentially take over the world with her creations. Christy ... well, she’d be lucky if Tom could intimidate the wait staff at a Denny’s.”

  * * *

  Whatever spell they’d worked seemingly went off without a hitch because Tom met us halfway as we were heading down. Despite the lack of a scent, he was him. It’s hard to explain, but when you know someone for so long, you know the essential them. I had a feeling that’s how parents could tell identical twins apart. There was a sense of “them” to each person that someone intimately familiar would just know. That’s how it was now. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but despite being a construct of tangible energy around a cheap plastic center, he was still my friend.