The Unauthorized Autobiography of Ethan Jacobs
Page 20
Chapter 20
“Enns: specific incantations directed toward individual demons from Belial to Lucifer. Think of them as demonic phone numbers. If spoken correctly in the right circumstances, you will reach the correct demon.
Know what you want from the demon, and be prepared to offer something in return. Never offer something you can't provide. Show respect; these creatures, if they exist, may be thousands of years old, and are immortal. They will not be pleased if called just to see 'if it works’.
Evocation is a process that calls forth a demon, but keeps the summoner separate from the entity, usually by means of a magick circle. Dark mirrors, smoke, and other tools may be used to see the demon. It may choose to speak with you.
Invocation may also be used, but appeals to the spirit—calls them forth in earnest. An invocation brings the summoned entity inside the person, allowing the demon to speak through them.
Either process can be dangerous in unskilled hands. Reports on the internet claim those who practice irresponsibly or for the wrong reasons may be stricken with bad luck, disease, insanity ... even death.”
-Ethan Jacobs, Electronic Journal entry #55
..ooOOoo..
Ethan popped some over-the-counter pain pills and washed them down with a shot of whiskey—just one. His grandfather told him it would kill germs. He had lived to be eighty-nine—he died of cancer—but he lived to be eighty-nine, and that was good enough.
Maybe I can summon Grandpap on the Parker Brothers Ghost hotline over there and get some answers, Ethan thought.
He laid the alarm clock face down so that the green LED lights wouldn’t glare. Then he shoved the recorder in the drawer, turned off the lamp, and closed his eyes. He heard Slobber trot into the room and saw his eyes reflecting in the light from the window as he jumped up onto the bed. The animal circled two or three times before settling. Ethan’s eyelids felt like lead fishing weights were dangling from them, and his whiskey painkiller eased his aching muscles enough for him to drift off.
..ooOOoo..
It was the vile smell that jarred him awake. It was thick with rotten meat, sour milk, and vomit. It nauseated him and his stomach heaved, but nothing came up. It took every ounce of willpower he had to open his eyes. When they finally focused, he was faced with an empty bedroom.
Thankfully, the scent faded, but as he tried to sit up, a crushing weight rolled across his chest like a tank over soft terrain. Something large had pinned him down and its immense weight held him there. Ethan tried his best to shift sideways out from under the phantom foot, but the best he could do was look side to side.
His eyes were of little use, as they hadn’t adjusted to the low light, but he could see what appeared to be the usual shapes in his room. Suddenly a hot gust of wet air slapped his face and the terrible rot-vomit smell was back, stronger than before. He gagged, wishing he could puke, avoiding the worst of it by breathing shallowly through his mouth.
He was facing the business end of some unknown beast ten times his size and strength. He pictured fresh blood on its tongue and torn shreds of flesh wedged between its jagged yellow teeth. Whatever it was loitered, breathing heavily, like it was trying to decide how to take the last, fatal bite.
Still unable to speak, Ethan finally rolled his head, ever so slightly. He turned his eyes to their limit and in the dim moonlight he saw Slobber standing next to him on the bed. The dog’s head was lowered, his hackles raised and teeth displayed. Slobs growled a low, angry warning.
The dog wasn’t looking at any invisible thing that had his master trapped. He was looking at Ethan, eye to eye, and snarling as if any movement on Ethan’s part would elicit an attack. There was one last blast of rank, humid breath in Ethan's face, when Slobber barked, lunging for his master. The bark must have frightened the specter-beast, because the scent of decay and the pressure on Ethan’s chest were gone in an instant. Snapping jaws missed him by the tiniest margin.
Ethan screamed, gasping desperately for fresh air, and grabbed the hair by his temples in manic disbelief. Slobs yelped and spun, scanning the area for the thing. Then he leapt from the bed and bolted from the room. He didn’t return that night.
Ethan switched the lamp on to find nothing from floor to ceiling out of place. He sobbed quietly for a few moments, quaking with fright. His chest ached from the speed of his heartbeat. After the rush wore off, he felt faint from the encounter, whatever it had been, and passed out. There were no dreams.
The next morning he awoke to answer the familiar warbling of his cell phone. Ethan was glad, as he opened one eye, to see sunlight filtering through the blinds on his bedroom window, although he didn’t feel much better. His pulse throbbed in the back of his head and his chest ached from that crushing feeling in the middle of the night. He was certain there would be bruising. The party on the phone was Aaron, according to the gadget’s full color display.
What does that motherfucker want anyway? Doesn’t he know I’m sick and don’t want to be bothered?
He answered in a very un-best-friendly manner.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, man! I heard through the grapevine that you’re down for the count. Anything I can do?”
Aaron babbled with the condescending sincerity only a true friend can muster.
“Grapevine?” Ethan asked, gruffly.
“Yeah, Kay told me.”
Suddenly he hated Kay. Then he remembered what happened last night and the conversation with Max came flooding back. That bitch Kay had brought this on him, and, at that moment, he wanted to tear her heart out and feed it to Slobber.
“That whore you’re dating needs to stop flapping her fucking mouth. You wanna help me? You can all leave me the fuck alone.”
He slammed the phone down and clutched his temples again. His head pounded like his brain was looking for a way out. Pain shot from the base of his skull into the back of his eyes so quickly he had to sit in the floor for a moment to wait for the sensation to pass.
After several minutes of agony, he realized the phone was ringing again. He ignored it. Slobber was still missing and Ethan remembered him leaving the room last night after the incident. The dog had made his way back to the bed, and when Ethan reached the bedroom, Slobber cowered at his master’s first attempt to pet him. Then he sniffed the outstretched hand cautiously and wagged his tail, as if glad to have his trusted friend back.
Something was horribly wrong. This wasn’t normal sick, this was different, and he thought about what he had read. Max had told him about closing the connection and he wondered if he could do that since he wasn't the one who had opened it. He had learned through his study that you had to have contact with the entity in order to close the portal it had come though. Assuming it was real, maybe he could cut off contact with it and then persuade Kay to do the same so it would be gone forever.
Unless it was attached to someone before her.
This thing could’ve been hopping from person to person for eons. Ethan lay down in agony and relaxed as best he could. The pain subsided at last, and for the first time in days, his sleep wasn’t troubled by dreams or interrupted in any way.