A Song of Redemption

by Lillian I Wolfe

  I went on in, grabbing the things I needed—toothpaste, shampoo, alum, and sulfur from the garden shop—and added in a couple of candy bars and a soda at the checkout counter. The total wiped out the twenty dollars Orielle had handed me and I had to dig for the remainder in my purse. I was running low on money already. I’d applied for unemployment, but I wasn’t sure how that would go. Technically, I was self-employed while I worked for Heeni, so I didn’t think I’d be approved for any aid. Orielle kept telling me not to worry about it, yet asking her for money like a kid wasn’t something that sat well with me. I needed my own income.

  Back at the Jeep, I set the bag on the passenger seat and paused for a few moments before starting the car as I considered my limited options. If the Creator wanted me to battle these demons, then it seemed reasonable to expect some kind of help in supporting myself instead of losing all my income streams. So, I asked. I sat there and mumbled a prayer to whoever was listening pleading for help.

  When I arrived back at the house, Orielle bubbling with excitement, waved me into the living room. “Look at this, Gillian. Lucca just sent me this map of Peru where they believe the portal is located. He’s marked three locations, and we have been trying to narrow it down.”

  I set the bag on the coffee table and turned to look at the big screen where the map was projected. Yep, it was Peru. And there were three locations marked. One was near Lima. How likely was that? Another was more to the interior near an area called Pangoa that looked like a jungle zone in the south, not too far from Macchu Picchu, and the third was in the north at a place called Kúelap that also looked to be mountainous.

  “So, he still hasn’t been able to pinpoint the location? I thought they would have more information. Hasn’t anyone gone into the field?” I was less impressed than she was.

  “It is not that simple. The names are different now although some retain their old city names, but what we are looking for is probably not marked on the map. All of these locations have come up in the ancient manuscripts we’ve found, but even though some documents are thousands of years old, there may be no written records of what we need. That is part of the reason I hope to trap a yiaiwa. One might know the name.”

  “Right. The shade trap. I got the stuff you requested. Is that supposed to help?” I pointed to the bag as I dropped into the armchair nearest the kitchen. I pulled out a candy bar and tossed it to her, then unwrapped the other.

  She caught the bar, set it on the table, and answered, “It may help to contain the yiaiwa once we lure it in. At least, according to the account I read, it should. So, the next time you go to the interim plane, you can try to lure one back.”

  “Me? And how will I do that?” I scoffed.

  “I am working on it.” She turned her attention back to the map. By the intent gaze on her face, I knew she was lost in her own thoughts again as she studied the locations.

  I had other things to do as I started for the kitchen to get some ice and noticed a pair of packages sitting on the counter. Two of the potential team members had sent me items. With a grin of excitement, I snatched them up and headed to my room.

  Both packages were small padded envelopes and were mailed from Oregon and Alabama, so two of my four American team candidates had both sent pocket-sized items. That was good since they were easier to keep handy while transitioning. I opened the Alabama one first; that was from Bob. A little blade about one inch and a folded piece of paper slid out when I upturned the package on my bed. It looked like the smallest blade from a jackknife or other folding knife set. Interesting choice. I picked up the paper and read the short note.

  Hello, Miss Gillian. I’ve enclosed the blade from my granddaddy’s jackknife. He gave it to me when I was eight, and I’ve cherished it for the past twenty-two years and always carry it with me. I’d like it back if this doesn’t work or when it’s all over. Bob Martin

  That sounded promising with a lot of emotion attached. I slid the note and the blade back into the package then turned to the other one. I dumped it and found a small note card with sunflowers on the front and another smaller envelope. I went to the card first, seeing what Sandy from Oregon sent. A flowing handwriting, neat and precise, in turquoise ink informed:

  This is one-half of a friendship ring set. My best friend from the time I was four wore this ring until last year. She passed on after a long, tough battle with leukemia. Her parents returned the ring to me so that I could always have her strength and love with me. My half of the ring is on my finger. She was a fighter, so I think with the emotions attached to both sides of the ring, she just might bring some of that fight into our battle. Keep it safe, please. Sandy

  Moisture formed in my eyes as I read and I thought about Janna. We’d never exchanged friendship rings or anything like that, yet I could fully imagine how much emotion was attached to the ring and how much Sandy treasured it. I carefully opened the envelope and slid the silver band into my hand. Thin, with a loose knot design, an amethyst stone filled the opening of the knot. I figured it was probably Sandy’s birthstone as her friend would wear it to tie their friendship. I guessed Sandy’s would have her friend’s birthstone. I made a mental note to check when we connected.

  Motivated to make these two connections as soon as possible, I sent both of them an email to let them know I had the tokens and to ask when the best time to try to connect would be for them. I was flexible with the time.

  I put the packages in the top drawer of my dresser before I headed back to the kitchen where I found Orielle mixing the sulfur with another herb she had and some rosewater to make a paste. She stirred it with a wooden stick she’d harvested from the dormant tree in the backyard.

  “What is that concoction supposed to do?” I asked.

  She barely glanced up, continuing to stir. “If I have the ingredients correct, this will make a sealing layer to go inside the trap. I will coat all the inside and the opening flaps with it. It should protect the trap, and anyone around it, if a demon or evil entity attempts to use fire to escape or destroy it.”

  “Should?” I echoed. “That’s a big if in the equation.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “We will not know if it works until we try it. So we need to capture a yiaiwa, but not one of the pacura variety. It will be imperative to have you ready with your energy bolt to either subdue or repel the spirit if it fails. When will Astrid be here?”

  I glanced at the clock. “Any minute now. She’s allocated a couple of hours for this. Is now a good time to mention that my experiences with the yiaiwa’s powers have been on the cold side?”

  She looked up, and a brief smile flashed. “It is interesting that their power weapon is icy rather than fiery, is it not? But I think they are fully capable of using fire. References mention the demons using fire to destroy homes.”

  I shuddered involuntarily. The cold was bad enough, but I preferred it to flames. At least for the short blasts I’d experienced. Neither would be the better option for a longer blast. We needed to get them before they had a chance at us.

  “Do you think anything will destroy them?”

  “Are they immortal?” she countered. “I cannot say. Belphegor is. If other demons are in his entourage, then they likely are as well. But the rest of the yiaiwa are an unknown. If they devour the immortal soul, does that make them immortal or is the soul’s immortality simply obliterated?”

  Her voice was even-toned as if she was discussing an academic question. Maybe she was, but we were talking about real souls being totally destroyed. If one seized my soul, I would prefer oblivion to being even remotely connected to one of the creatures.

  “I hope—” I started to say when the doorbell interrupted me. “That’s probably Astrid.” I turned and went to answer it.

  Astrid stood on the porch, gazing back over her shoulder to the street.

  “Hi. Is something wrong?” I asked.

  She whipped her head back around and gave it a shake. “No. Not that I can sense. I had an odd feeling as
I got out of the car like I was being watched. But I don’t see anything.”

  “Probably just the aura around the house,” I replied as I stepped out on the porch to gaze around looking for a white van. I didn’t spot anything, but someone could have been observing the house.

  Orielle had moved to the dining table, which was covered with newspapers to protect it. She’d pulled on rubber gloves and was beginning to coat the trap with the concoction she’d created.

  “Perfect timing,” she said as soon as Astrid drew near. “I am just applying the protective coating, so we will need to seal it and apply the safety wards.”

  As Astrid shot a questioning look at me, I shrugged. Orielle would have to explain her needs, which she did as soon as she’d completely coated the inside with the smelly paste. She explained that the coating went over a flame retardant material she’d glued to the inside of the tube. She concluded with, “The elements in the paste will make it completely resistant to demon flame once we cast the spell to lock it in. I have the words we need to say.”

  “So you need my strength to say the spell,” Astrid surmised.

  “I need all three of us to say it. The more who do it, the more powerful the spell.”

  “Me, too?” I said. “But I’m not–”

  “Not what?” Orielle interrupted. “This is Earth magic, not anything more and anyone can do it. But some, like Astrid, have more psychic power than others. As do you. You keep wanting to deny that you have paranormal powers, even when you are using them. Accept what you are, Gillian.”

  That shut me up as I realized she’d told me the truth. I was going through day after day pretending everything was normal while the world crumbled around me. I had freaking powers that most people don’t have. I was searching for more people with similar abilities like I was doing job interviews. In spite of astrally traveling to another plane, talking to dead people, and fighting evil spirits, I was still trying to pretend I hadn’t changed. Feeling weak in the knees, I sank down to the chair, crossed my arms over my thighs, and dropped my head onto them to shut out the world.

  “Let’s give her a few minutes alone,” Astrid said in a loud whisper. I heard their footsteps fading as they went into the living room.

  I had been fighting against these powers ever since I’d discovered I’d acquired them. Just the spirit escort wouldn’t have been so bad, but then there were the shades, later to become yiaiwa, and the threat that was growing. A fallen angel pursued me and planned to destroy me. Gavin had nearly been killed and was still in a coma. Now, I’d lost my best friend because of these unique skills I’d been given. I resented them, and I blamed them for Janna’s death. If I hadn’t received them, then the yiaiwa would have no reason to pursue me or my friends. No reason to try to stop me.

  Thinking selfishly, aren’t you?

  The voice in my head sounded like Janna, and I pulled my head up expecting to see her in the room. But it was empty. I gazed out the patio doors at the empty, still dormant backyard that waited for spring to begin life again. If only it was that easy, and I could bring Janna back.

  Was I being selfish?

  I felt the first tear slip from my right eye, running toward my nose to slide down it. One from the left soon joined it. My whole life was screwed up, and I wanted to blame someone or something. Thinking more rationally, I realized Gavin had set the demon loose, and it would have found him eventually. I had been given the skills because some power in the Universe thought I had the ability and courage to use them. That I would be willing to fight to protect my friends and all the innocent souls the demons would destroy. If the Creator was so all-powerful, why couldn’t He stop them?

  Because a human screwed it up and a human must fix it. If you can.

  The voice wasn’t Janna’s this time, but Zac’s, my missing angel, or so I thought he was. The last time I’d seen him, he had been behind the evil barrier in the interim cemetery. I felt betrayed by him. I swung my head around, wondering if his spirit was here, but nothing new had been added to the kitchen.

  I snorted. I didn’t even know if the voices in my head were really who or what I thought they were. What I did know was that it was time I accepted that I had changed. I would never be the girl who planned a career in music, an awesome husband, and a happy home, with three children if I didn’t help stop the nightmare that was coming.

  Sliding the chair back, I climbed to my feet and marched into the living room, ready to apologize and learn the damn chant.

  Orielle and Astrid sat on the sofa with their heads hunched over a paper on the table, reading the words in low voices.

  “No,” Astrid said stopping at a word as Orielle went to the next. “I think the pronunciation on that one is wrong. It should be ay-qua-na, not aik-wina.”

  Orielle lifted her eyes. “Are you sure? Have you seen these before?”

  Astrid nodded. “Yes, I think I have. I think I’ve heard this chant somewhere— A dream or while I was traveling.”

  I stopped beside the sofa and cleared my throat. “Ladies, I apologize for my...” I searched for a word that adequately described my outburst. “...my petulance. I have been short-sighted. Let’s get this bit of magic done.”

  “Yes. Let’s do that. Come. Sit, and we will run through the chant a few more times to get the pronunciations clear in our minds. Do you need to write it down?” Orielle replied.

  “I think I’d better,” I answered and accepted the pad and pencil she pushed across the coffee table to me.

  I scribbled the words phonetically as we went through them, noting it when Astrid adjusted two more pronunciations. After another three repeats, we were saying them in unison with the same inflections, and Orielle pronounced us ready to do it for real.

  Back in the kitchen, we formed a semi-circle around the trap with the patio door forming the back side. Orielle bit her lip as we prepared, then said, “Summon Nygard, Gillian. He will add more energy to the cast.”

  I hesitated, not eager to involve my cat, but then called him. If he was a familiar, then he could definitely add to the spell. As his head peeked around the corner, I gave him the signal for my shoulder. He took a few running steps, then leaped to reach me, curling around my neck, his head hanging over my left shoulder.

  Satisfied, Orielle set the incense burning then raised three fingers for the countdown, lowering one each second. As the last finger dropped, we began the chant, which needed to be repeated three times. The words rose and fell in a distinct rhythm that made it easier for us to stay together. The pattern itself felt familiar to me, but I couldn’t place it.

  As we finished the third repetition, Orielle pushed the burning incense bowl into the trap, and we stepped back. As a crackling noise sounded, a plume of yellow smoke spurted out of the tube.

  I jumped back, nearly dislodging Nygard who growled at the disturbance. “Is it supposed to do that?” I asked in alarm.

  “I think so,” Orielle said. “The document said there would be a reaction when the spell is done properly, but it did not describe it.”

  As the rotten egg smell of the sulfur drifted through the kitchen, Nygard launched himself from my shoulder, digging in a couple of rear claws as he did, and skittered around the corner heading to my bedroom.

  Waving the foul-smelling smoke away from her nose, Orielle reached to pull the bowl out, and we saw the flame had been extinguished.

  “How do we know if it worked?” Astrid asked.

  Orielle shrugged. “Maybe light a fire in it and see what happens?”

  “How about taking it outside first?” I suggested, still covering my nose with my hand.

  With a nod, Orielle picked up the board the tube sat on while Astrid slid the door open for her to take it to the iron table in the back. I picked up the box of matches from the kitchen and a paper towel to roll into a torch.

  Once we set the ignited paper in the tube, it flared up for a moment or two, then went out as if doused by water. If the mixture was supposed to shut down
flames, it succeeded.

  With a huge smile, Orielle turned to Astrid and me and said, “All we need now is a yiaiwa.”

  But that still didn’t explain how we would lure it into the trap.

  Chapter 22

  I SAT ON THE LIVING room couch with my legs crossed and a relaxing audio tape of pastoral music playing on the stereo. I hadn’t tried using music when I’d projected before, but it seemed to make it easier to focus on the objects I had set on the coffee table. Orielle had suggested trying it just before she left the house to do some errands this morning. At least, she said that was what she was doing, but I suspected she just wanted to give me the privacy of the whole house while I tried to contact my two potential—? What were they anyway? My future army? Fellow fighters? For now, I’d just call them associates.

  Over the week, another two packages had arrived–one from Brazil and one from Japan. I hadn’t contacted either of those two yet to set up a trial run, but I would after I saw how the two today went. My first objective was to project to where they were, which was different than doing it with Elly. She’d been in her ethereal place making it easier to connect there. With both of these, neither one had done any astral travel, so I would be trying to project to where each of them designated.

  Sandy, my first contact, would be in her garden in Medford, Oregon. She’d sent me a digital image of the location. I’d studied it, so I had my target in mind. As the clock ticked down to the contact time, I picked up the ring Sandy had sent and focused on it. It was the first time I’d held it for more than a few seconds, and I began to feel a warmth through my body, a comforting feeling of love and friendship that must have been residual from Sandy’s friend. Gradually, a fog began to form in my mind, and I could see the green tones of the garden along with the red, gold, and orange shades of flowers starting to bloom.

  With a blink, I stood in the middle of the backyard garden facing a white wooden house with a small back porch. I heard soft mumbling behind me and turned around. A woman about my age, a little plumper and taller sat on a covered swing set rocking it back and forth with one foot while the other leg was tucked under her. Strands of her long brown hair covered the sides of her face as her head leaned forward, and her eyes focused on the middle finger of her right hand where she wore the matching ring to the one I held. I noticed the stone, a pale green stone...peridot.