Awakening

by Catrina Burgess

  I fell asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

  * * * *

  When I woke he was coming back into the room, a cup full of something steaming in his hand. His hair was wet and sleeked back.

  “What time is it?” I asked, holding back a yawn.

  “Just after ten thirty. We should get ready and get going.”

  I looked out the window and was surprised to see it was dark out. “Ten at night?”

  “You slept twelve hours.”

  I had actually slept soundly for the first time since the whole nightmare had begun. “Did you get any sleep?”

  He took a sip from the cup. He looked tired. “Some,” he answered. “Do you want to eat something before we go?”

  I shook my head. I was too nervous. The very thought of the ritual made my stomach queasy.

  “It’s cold out. You’d better wear something warm.”

  I looked out the window. “We’re heading out there?”

  “Yes. It will take us about fifteen minutes to get to the cemetery.”

  I sat stunned at the word. Cemetery. We were heading out to do the ritual in the cemetery.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I forced myself to sit up and swung my legs over the bed. “Yeah, just great.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  I raised my chin and looked him in the eyes. “We both know I do.”

  “Don’t take too long getting ready. We need to be out the door soon.”

  “The ritual begins at midnight?”

  “Yes, we have to get there and then get things set up.” He was watching me, his expression one I couldn’t read.

  I forced a smile onto my face. “I won’t be long.”

  He nodded his head and headed out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

  He left and the tears started sliding down my face. I raised trembling hands to my temples and tried to force myself to calm down. I had wanted to do this. I had come to the magic shop to be trained as a death dealer, but it terrified me that I was about to get what I’d wanted most.

  I straightened my shoulders. Doing the ritual would keep me alive and hopefully help Luke save his sister. I took a deep breath, and then forced myself to take another. I could do this. I had to be brave and face it straight on.

  He’s going to kill you, the words seared across my brain. But he’ll bring me back. I trusted him to bring me back.

  I forced myself to my feet and started to get ready.

  * * * *

  We were in the middle of the cemetery, standing at the edge of a very old, very creepy, grave. No one was around but us and the dead. I looked at the tombstone I was standing beside. Etched on its surface the words Mathew Smith, 1805-1850.

  It was hard to believe we’d trekked to a cemetery in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. We’d crossed pastures and even splashed through a stream to get here.

  Over head was a moon casting long shadows. The cemetery looked like something right out of a horror movie. Marble headstones stood in rows. The gravesites themselves were a combination of patches of dirt and grass. And above the headstones I could make out shapes. A handful of life-sized statues of angels scattered around, seeming to move with the shadows. And beyond those were a few larger monuments--above ground tombs that were the resting place of the truly wealthy. It was fall and, although the trees around the countryside had changed color and started to drop their leaves, inside the wrought iron fence surrounding the cemetery there were only a couple of planted trees. And these trees were bare, their limbs gnarled and twisted. I couldn’t fight the feeling that we were being watched, and a chill ran down my back as I wrapped my arms around my body. I turned back to where Luke was working.

  A dozen candles now lined both sides of the grave. On the marble headstone was a box. At the foot of the grave a bottle full of a red liquid that looked like blood.

  “You need all this to do a spell?” I asked.

  The act of healing came from within. It was true healers often used herbs, salve and elixirs in combination with their magic, but for the most part healers stayed away from doing spells and all the trappings that came with spell magic.

  Luke started lighting candles. “I do. Spells are about focusing your abilities, and also calling on the forces of nature.”

  “Why this graveyard?” I asked.

  “Because graveyards are a doorway to the other side. Think of them as a portal to the dead, a place where many spirits are closest to the earthly realms and easier to contact.” Luke looked around and did a wide sweeping gesture with his arm. “We’ve buried the members of our family in this particular graveyard for generations.” He pointed down at the grave. “We could do the spell on any grave, but one of the strongest mages in our family line is buried here.”

  I looked down at the grave and tried to quench the fear rising inside me. “What spell are you doing tonight?”

  “It’s one that’s the first part of the ritual. It’s called the passage. The passage into the magics of the death dealers. Your spirit has to commune with the other side. You have to touch the hereafter, see death first hand in order to be able to wield its power.”

  I straightened my back and tried to feel brave. “I have to die.”

  He looked up at me and nodded his head. “It’s the way my guild has guided students in the dark arts for centuries.”

  “You plan on killing me. Then what? Bury me and bring me back up like a voodoo zombie?” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  “No. There’s no voodoo involved and no zombies.” He went back to lighting candles.

  I watched him work for a few minutes in silence. He pulled something out of a black duffle bag he’d brought. It was a glass jar full of black powder. He started sprinkling some on the ground around him.

  “I trust you,” I said quietly.

  His expression turned sullen. “Trust me to kill you and bring you back?”

  “Yes.”

  I knew about death. I had watched Mama bring people who were hanging on the brink of it back with her healing. But whether she could bring them back or not was never a certainty. Death had its own rules, and when it decided to claim someone, its grip could be stronger than a rip tide.

  He walked toward me until he stood in front of me. “I’ve been by my uncle’s side when he’s done this. Assisted him in the ritual, but I’ve never done one. It’s not something you’re allowed to do until you’re older, until you truly master your power.”

  “You can do it. I have faith in you.”

  His eyes filled with anger. “And if you’re wrong? If you trust me and something goes wrong?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Then game over. Look, everything in life is a risk, a gamble. I’m here, and I’m throwing the dice.” I didn’t want to ask the next question on my mind, it had been haunting me ever since he’d told me about the ritual, but now standing here in the cemetery I had to know. “How are you going to do it?” I whispered.

  “Strangulation is the easiest.” His voice was suddenly void of emotion.

  What the hell did he mean, ‘strangulation is the easiest’. He’d told me I had to die, but I had assumed he’d give me a potion. I would drink something, slowly fade out and then later I would drink a counter potion to undo the spell.

  “I’m going to put my hands around your neck and squeeze the life out of you. It’s the only way the ritual works. You have to experience the pain, experience your death at the hands of a death dealer.” Fear--there it was again in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this. It’s crazy we’re doing this.”

  At the word strangulation, everything in my body screamed to get out of that graveyard and away from this lunatic. I took a deep breath and stepped toward him. “You know we don’t have a choice. If you want to save your sister, you need my help. I can’t help you as I am. I need power.” It was true I wanted to save his sister, but I also wanted to exact my revenge, and I was willing to do an
ything to see the men who killed my family pay.

  He stood looking at me for a long moment and then turned and walked over to the bag. He pulled out a handful of black feathers.

  He looked back at me. “Raven feathers.” He started scattering them about the area. “I’m just about done with the preparations.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked, trying to keep the fear I was feeling from showing.

  He pointed toward the ground. “Lay down on the grave.”

  This wasn’t happening. I was in some bizarre nightmare, and I had to wake myself up.

  “On the grave?” This time I couldn’t keep the tremble out of my voice.

  He didn’t look at me when he answered. “Make sure to lie on your back. I have to be able to see your eyes.”

  I got down on my knees and then slowly I turned over and lay down against the damp grass. I tried not to think about the skeleton lying a few feet beneath me.

  Luke was suddenly straddling me. “There’s still time to change your mind.”

  Yes, yes, get out of here. The voices in my head were screaming.

  “Do what you have to,” I whispered.

  I flinched when his hands encircled my neck. They were bigger than I imagined and the panic I felt rising from the pit of my stomach was almost more than I could stand.

  “Last chance. You don’t have to do this,” he said. The fear was back in his eyes.

  The images of my father’s broken body flashed through my head. I had no choice, I had to continue.

  “Do it,” I said between clenched teeth.

  His hands tightened, and I realized in a moment of sheer terror that I had been wrong. He needed to stop. I couldn’t go through with this. My hands came up and clawed against his fingers, but he was too strong. My lungs were bursting with the need to breathe. I looked up and into his eyes. The expression on his face was one of concentration.

  He was killing me. I had to stop him from strangling me. I struggled, I twisted my body, but he was too big and too heavy. My hands gave up on his and I reached up to claw out his eyes. He anticipated my move and raised himself up until his face was out of reach.

  You’re killing me, I tried to plead with him with my eyes. He had to see the expression in them and know that I wanted him to stop. But he didn’t. The pressure increased. There was a burning in my chest and my eyes became clouded with tears--the desire to breathe, to live, was so strong I could feel it pulsating through my whole being. But there was no breath, no air. My lungs, my heart needed oxygen to survive, and without it I began to die.

  The beating of my heart slowed, my thoughts now were on the burning, the terrible burning that was consuming my body. I could feel his hands crushing my neck. My eyes become unfocused and then there was gray and a darkness suddenly beckoning to me. Then there was nothing, vast emptiness surrounded me.

  Suddenly I wasn’t alone. I realized in a moment of horror that I could feel, not the living, but something else. Spirits? At first I couldn’t hear or see anything in the darkness, but a black cloud and a rush of noise surrounded me. Was that screaming?

  Someone was shouting, another voice was praying. Slowly one face formed in front of me and then another, until they surrounded me. But these faces weren’t flesh and bone--they were ghostly images, flickering in and out of the darkness. Thin lines of gray that I could see through came and went like someone was turning a light switch on and off. More noise, this time someone was yelling in pain. Something held me immobile in this place. Where was I? How could I escape? The faces and voices began to move closer, and I felt nothing now but fear.

  And then a loud male voice boomed from within the darkness, “You aren’t of my blood, but my blood brought you here to this space for the ritual. What is it that you’re seeking?”

  “Seeking?” I asked. No, I didn’t ask, I wasn’t really there, was I?

  “Come child, there isn’t much time. What is it that you seek?”

  Revenge. The word blazed across my mind.

  “So be it,” the voice said, and the world around me went silent.

  No more ghostly images, no more sound, now just a vast gray space before me. I seemed to be in this place forever, and then there was something else. A growl, a snarl. Small red eyes that peered at me from the darkness. The eyes blinked and I felt stunned. What was this new horror? More ghosts? No, something different. I knew it in the very core of me.

  I had felt frightened when confronted by the ghostly images and noise, but now something more primitive inside me was reacting. Whatever was out there was far worse. It was evil. It was something dark and sinister. Something that wanted me. The eyes were moving closer. The snarling was louder now. I felt a terror within me that I had never felt before. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The thing in the darkness would consume me.

  And then I felt the panic leave and a calmness overcame me. In the darkness, there was a light far away, and from within that light I heard voices. Someone was calling to me to join them. If I could have sobbed with relief, I would have. They were in there waiting for me. The pain of having them gone was no more. Life and its struggles were past me. There was nothing now but my family and the light. I came closer to the light expecting any minute to see the face of my mother, of my father. But instead it was my grandmother who welcomed me. She stood as if bathed in sunlight. She was wearing her favorite blue dress, the one that matched the color of her eyes. Her hair was wrapped into a tight bun.

  A look of bewilderment crossed her face. “Child, what’re you doing here?” She reached out her hands and then pulled them back. “No, it’s not your time, you shouldn’t be here. You have to go back.”

  I heard a voice shouting at me, it was Luke’s. “Do you see the light? Do you hear the voices?”

  Yes, I wanted to respond. Let me go to the light. Leave me to my peace. And then there was only pain and a rush of noise and sensation. The burning in my chest, the pounding of my heart, my mouth opened and oxygen rushed into my lungs.

  I struggled against the pain. I fought to go back toward the light. I wouldn’t leave my family. I refused to let them go without me again. And then a jolt as something rammed into me. More pain. More Burning. Then heat and a rush of sensation as oxygen once again filled my lungs. And the jolt again and I was back in my body and the world.

  Luke’s mouth was covering mine. Blowing air into me, I realized. And his hands were on my chest. CPR. He’s doing CPR. My brain fed me the words as I began again to be able to think through the fog.

  His mouth lifted from mine. His eyes no longer calm and collected. He shouted at me, “Stay with me!”

  I tried to talk, but I couldn’t. My throat was raw and on fire.

  He forced me up, and into his arms. “Drink this, it will take the pain away.”

  Liquid ran down my throat. I choked and coughed.

  The pain slowly ebbed away and I could breathe. I could swallow. My chest felt bruised and my throat felt sore, but I was alive.

  He was still hovering over me.

  His face now close to mine. I needed distance from him, and with all my strength I pushed myself away from him.

  He backed away.

  I couldn’t meet his eyes. The guy had killed me. What was I suppose to say?

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “No,” my words sounded guttural.

  He stretched out his hand to help me up. The desire to push it away was so strong, but I reminded myself that I had asked him to do it. I took his hand and he pulled me up and into his arms.

  Those strong hands now resting on my back were the same brutal hands that had taken my life. It was more than I could handle. I struggled against his embrace.

  He tightened his hold. His voice was soothing, “It’s okay. You’re safe. Everything is fine.” His hands began to move up and down my back in a gentle motion.

  A cry broke from my lips and I leaned my head against his shoulder.

  His head came down and reste
d against mine. “It’s okay.”

  It wasn’t, and it never would be again. A sob broke loose and then another. The tears ran down my face. I couldn’t stop the emotions I’d been holding in so tightly from breaking free. I was alone. My family was gone. I would never see them again. The sobs were louder and harder now.

  He began to rock his body slowly back and forth. I felt like a tree in the breeze. The motion was soothing.

  “You’re safe,” he whispered the words against my cheek.

  The sobs slowed and then stopped. “You can let go of me.”

  He pushed back and looked down into my face, his hand raising my chin and forcing me to look into those dark eyes.

  Concern, and something else I couldn’t quite make out, filled them.

  “You killed me.” My voice was unsteady.

  He held me close again. “I brought you back.”

  “Please tell me that we only have to do that once.”

  He whispered against my ear, “I swear. I won’t kill you again. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  It was a bad joke.

  “Come on. We’re done for tonight.” Luke started to move away.

  I took one step to follow and felt the ground shake beneath my feet. I stopped and looked at Luke. “Did you feel that?” I whispered.

  Luke looked down at the grave. “I did.”

  There it was again, a loud thumping noise and the ground beneath our feet moved again, this time harder.

  We both stood there, watching the ground, waiting for I was not sure what. The minutes ticked on, and nothing else happened.

  Luke looked over at me and said, “Whatever that was it was not part of the ritual.” He turned and started to walk away, and I slowly followed. I couldn’t help it, every couple of steps I looked back over my shoulders expecting to see something following us.

  * * * *

  There wasn’t a lot of conversation as we walked back from the cemetery. I was still trying to process everything that had happened to me, and my mind and body were very aware that he was only a few inches from me. The logical part of my mind knew it was crazy to fear him. Luke had never shown any violent tendencies toward me, but another part of me couldn’t get the image of his hands around my throat, those large hands tightening out of my mind. I forced the image away. I’d asked him to do it, to teach me the dark arts, I reminded myself. Still my shaking hand went up to touch the still tender bruises at the base of my neck.