Awakening

by Catrina Burgess

  He nodded. “Not a lot, but she talked about the men. About the place they held her. She stayed there, was held there, for days before they killed her. I think it might be where they’re holding Darla.”

  “Where is it?” I demanded.

  His eyes filled with sadness. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. She didn’t communicate enough about the place. She said it was big. It was dark when they took her there. She seemed more focused on the men. It just happened, her death. Sarah doesn’t fully realize that’s she dead. Her spirit is a jumble of emotions and confusion.”

  “And will that change?” I asked, worried the answer was going to be no.

  He took a deep breath and looked up into the sky. “It does for some, as times passes. They realize they’ve passed. But Sarah’s spirit won’t find peace until the men who killed her are brought to justice.”

  “Sarah can’t help us find your sister.” And if she couldn’t where did that leave us?

  Luke’s eyes met mine. “It doesn’t look like it. Our best bet is still your family. Once we do the second ritual you’ll be able to communicate with them if they come to you.”

  I shuddered at the thought. “But Sarah, are you sure she can’t help us? If she’s confused, can’t you help her? Can’t you just tell her to go to the light or something?”

  “No. Until her soul finds justice, she’s bound to the ether sea,” he answered.

  “But you can bring the spirits forth. Like the banshees.”

  He nodded his head. “Yes, I can make the spirits do my bidding.”

  A chill went through me as I thought of my family. “You force them? Force them to do your bidding?” my voice trembled.

  He turned away from me. ”It’s hard for you to understand now. It will make more sense to you later.”

  I reached out and grabbed his arm and forced him back around. “You’re forcing these poor souls into what amounts to slavery!”

  “Colina, the souls are restless. They can’t go to the light. They’re stranded in the places between. Nothing I could do would set them free.”

  “So you use them?” I said my voice full of anger.

  “Yes,” he answered quietly.

  “And force them to do whatever you ask. To hurt people?” I demanded.

  “To protect myself. To protect my family.”

  That part I could understand. To use whatever tools you had to protect the ones you loved, but another part of me was outraged. “And when I become a death dealer you’ll expect me to bind spirits? To force them to do what I want?”

  “You’ll do it,” his voice was now void of emotion.

  “And if I won’t?”

  Luke’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no choice. It will be something you have to do as a death dealer.” Luke’s voice grew softer, “You have to understand. No one can help them. They can’t move on. At least this way they can be of some use.”

  I thought of my family’s souls. Of their souls forever being chained to a death dealer. Their anguished faces full of pain. Forced into our world, becoming a pawn in some mage’s twisted game. What would it take to set my family free I wondered? “And to be free they have to do what?” I asked the question this time out loud.

  Luke shrugged his shoulders. “It’s like an empty hole they have to fill in order to move on. Getting vengeance for their murder, or finishing something left unfinished.”

  At his answer, I suddenly felt cold. I moved away from him and wrapped my arms around my body for warmth. “And if they don’t fill the empty hole?” I whispered.

  Luke looked toward the water as he answered, “Then their spirit roams in a state of unrest across the ether sea for eternity.”

  * * * *

  When we got back to Pagan’s house we once again went our separate ways. I spent the rest of the day holed up in Pagan’s bedroom. Sleep was out of the question. I spent most the afternoon pacing the floor, my thoughts full of terrifying images of banshees and the undead. I now regretted every scary movie I had ever watched.

  I wasn’t sure what Luke was up to, but at some point he pounded at the bedroom door, and when I answered, he shoved a plate and a mug into my hands. On the plate a ham and cheese sandwich and a large portion of potato salad. And in the mug--hot chocolate. I wasn’t hungry, but I knew I needed to eat. It would be foolish of me to face whatever challenges the night would bring on an empty stomach. I choked down the food and barely noticed as I finished off the hot chocolate.

  As the afternoon went on, the room cut off from the main source of heat, became chilly. I went through Pagan’s closet and borrowed a heavy grey sweater. And then I began to pace again.

  I paced, lost in my thoughts as shadows slid across the wood floor. Soon the room became so dark I had to switch on a light. I looked over at the clock and realized in a moment of panic that it was almost eleven at night. Soon I would be doing another terrifying ritual.

  I made my way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I looked in the mirror, and I could see the edge of the bruises on my neck peeking above the sweater. I pulled back the collar of the sweater and studied my neck. Most of the marks were fading, but still at the base of my throat there were dark purple and red marks. I looked closer and realized they were in the shape of fingers. Luke’s fingers. The marks left where his hands had encircled my neck and squeezed.

  I closed my eyes and tried to quash the panic rising from the pit of my stomach. In the first ritual, he’d killed me. Strangled me. And now we were about to embark on the second ritual. What horrors would this trial bring? My hand went up and moved across the surface of my neck. I flinched in pain.

  Possession. Communicating with the spirits. But Darla had said each ritual had been worse than the last. Each one a terror, causing her brother to have nightmares for months. How bad was it going to get?

  The old gypsy had warned me. Told me that the protection pouch would help me. Where was it? Had I brought it with me, or was it back at the magic shop? I scrambled to the closet and pulled out Darla’s suitcase. I rummaged through the case until my fingers brushed across velvet material. It was there at the bottom. Relief filled my body. My fingers wrapped around it and I pulled it out. The gypsy said it would protect me. I untied the leather wrapped several times around the top of the pouch and looped the leather around my neck. I tied the ends together and now the pouch hung down against my chest. My hands brushed against the pouch. It would protect me. I felt more at ease.

  I physically jumped when the door suddenly burst open. Luke stood in the doorway, a grim expression on his face. He held up a white dress and motioned toward me. “It’s time. You need to put this on.”

  I stood. “You want me to wear that?”

  “Yes, you need to wear this for the ritual.” His eyes went to my neck. He pointed at the pouch. “You can’t wear that.”

  My hands wrapped protectively around it. “Why not? The gypsy gave it to me. She said it would keep me safe.”

  “It’s blessed in a way that protects you, yes. You can still hear the spirits, communicate with them, but it gives you a layer of defense against them.”

  “A defense against the spirits sounds like a good idea.”

  “To truly communicate with the dead, you have to be wide open. You have to be vulnerable. The whole point of this next ritual is to blow all those doors in your mind that are normally closed wide open. Doors that most people want to stay closed.”

  I nodded my head and with trembling hands I undid the pouch and let it drop to the bed.

  Luke looked at me, his expression one of regret. “I’m sorry. You know this isn’t going to be easy, for either one of us. I understand if you’ve changed your mind.”

  I couldn’t back out now I was aware of the spirits but unable to control them. Spending the rest of my life at their mercy was not an option.

  I held out my hand. “I haven’t. Let’s get this over with.”

  He handed me the dress. “I’ll be in the living room. Everyt
hing is just about ready.”

  “I won’t take long. I’ll be out soon. And Luke.” I straightened my shoulders and met his gaze straight on. “I’m ready, I truly am. I’m ready for whatever comes next.”

  He nodded his head and closed the door.

  I stood staring at the door. I was ready, wasn’t I? We were about to find out.

  Chapter Seven

  Second Ritual

  I had changed my clothes, and I now wore the white shift dress. The dress material was thin and even though a fire was blazing in the fireplace I still felt cold.

  Luke had rearranged the living room and pushed all the furniture to the sides of the room. A wooden chair, surrounded by burning black candles, stood in the middle of the room. To one side of the candles was a pile of thick rope.

  I wrapped my arms around my body and stood in front of him. “I don’t quite understand what’s going to happen.”

  “We are calling on the dead.”

  I couldn’t keep the horror I was feeling from showing on my face. “And my outfit?”

  “Part of the ritual. It’s tradition. Goes back hundreds of years. Something along the lines of a virginal journey into the underworld.”

  Like a bride. It sounded twisted. You’d think a guild of people that wear mostly black would be the last group to be sporting white. The color of purity. What I was doing was far, far from anything pure--from anything that came from the light.

  “The dead must be left alone,” my Pa’s voice this time whispering in the corners of my mind. “Don’t get involved with anyone who conjures up the black arts. They’re wicked people Colina.”

  Luke didn’t seem wicked, but what did I actually know about the guy. He’d gone into an alley to save an innocent woman. Okay not so innocent, she’d tried to shish kabob him, but as far as he knew he was helping a victim. That meant he was someone with good intentions. He was trying to save his sister. He’d brought me back to life. He was someone on the side of goodness and light. Right?

  “Only the blackest souls mess with the dead. The dead should be left alone. It’s sacrilegious the way those people call up the spirits and parade them in front of their kinfolk.” My Pa’s voice again. And with it a memory.

  Pa was sitting by the fireplace. It was a week before Christmas, and most of the clan had started making their way to the winter festival. We were leaving in the morning. I was beyond excited. It would be the first time I was allowed to see the magics performed. My mother had promised that, after the New Year, I would begin some of my teachings as a healer. I was fourteen, young, innocent, and the world seemed like a place with so many possibilities. I don’t remember how the discussion moved onto the death dealers, but I remember the way my father’s face had changed when he began talking about them. The look of disgust that filled his eyes at the mention of them.

  “And what right do they have? Who made them judge and juror? How can they decide when someone should meet their maker?” my Mama asked.

  My Mama’s whole life had been about healing. The death dealers were the antithesis of her very existence. As powerful as she was, there were those she tried to heal that were too far gone, too ill to be healed. And sometimes these surviving souls would call on the death dealer to help them make the transition from this life to the next. To me, it seemed at the time, a kindness to stop their suffering, but my mother corrected me, telling me it was unnatural. Warning me that, by doing it, they were challenging the very balance of things.

  I knew those that practiced the blackest forms of the art often sacrificed animals to gain more power for their spells. But I had heard darker rumors. Whisperings that it wasn’t always when the sick were on their death bed that the death dealers took a life. But the rumblings were only rumors. And it was hard for me to imagine anyone trying to practice those most forbidden magics. But now I had to wonder how much of a deterrent the threat of imprisonment was to those with pure evil in their hearts.

  And now here I was trying to become a death dealer, something both my parents’ clearly disdained. It wasn’t for the first time that I was questioning my actions. What I was doing was both reckless and insane. Someone should step in and stop me before I made the biggest mistake of my life. But who was left to save me?

  Luke had been against it at first, but now he wanted me to become one almost as desperately as I had begged him to be made one. When it comes to blood, people will do crazy things. How far would Luke go to save his sister? How much would he sacrifice?

  Luke stood in front of me. “I know traditions sometimes don’t make sense, but the elders have done it this way for centuries. Look, if you’re uncomfortable go back and change into something else.”

  Luke had taken my silence for disapproval. But I was willing to follow his direction. “No, I don’t want to buck the system. If this is how it’s done, this is how we’ll do it.” Honestly, the outfit was the least of my worries, what was concerning me most was the rope he was holding. “You aren’t planning on hanging me? We agreed that you aren’t going to try to kill me again.”

  “When we call on the dead to come to you, now after the cemetery ritual you’re wide open. Think of yourself as an empty vessel. Like water pours into a cup, a spirit will pour into you.” He continued, “That’s why we aren’t doing this ritual at the cemetery, there are too many souls there waiting to be set free, clamoring over the use of your body, it could overpower you forever. By doing it here, maybe one or two spirits are roaming close by.”

  I didn’t like the sound of it. “And what happens to me?”

  “You’re still in there. Your spirit and the dead are sharing space. One of the things you’ll learn, with training, is how to stay in control. To make sure the spirit doesn’t over power you.”

  I was not liking the sound of this. “And that’s something I’ll learn. Which means this time, the spirit will over power me?”

  He nodded his head. “Yes.”

  “And the rope?”

  “As you train and learn you’ll be able to decide what spirit to let possess you. They’re around, forever floating on the ether sea. When you call them to you, you don’t know who’ll show up. Something with good intentions or something evil. But as you get more practice you’ll be able to discern who’s around you and you’ll be able to choose who to let in.”

  “But not this time.”

  “No, not this time,” he answered.

  “And since I can’t choose something might come and possess me that’s evil?”

  He nodded his head. “It’s possible.”

  “Terrific,” I mumbled.

  Luke smiled and tried to look reassuring. “By tying you to the chair I’m keeping us both safe.”

  “How much control will this spirit have over me?”

  “Complete. At first it will be able to overpower you, push the very essence of your being back. It will be able to control your mind and your limbs. It will speak through your lips. Move, using your body.”

  Being tied up was starting to sound like a good idea. “How will I make the spirit go away?”

  “You won’t be strong enough yet to do it all on your own. That’s why I’m here to guide you through the ritual. I’ll be able to help you banish the spirit.”

  “And if you can’t?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry, I can.”

  I was starting to understand why so few people went into death arts. You had to be more than a little bit insane to agree to be first killed and then possessed.

  I looked over at Luke and wondered why he’d chosen this life. “You never had the urge to turn your back on the family tradition and become a baker or a mechanic?”

  A ghost of a smile flashed across his face. “No.”

  “And how did your first possession go?”

  “It’s different for each person,” he answered.

  “But for you, what was it like?”

  He looked away. “It was like swimming in the sea against the current. It’s not painful if that’s
what you’re worried about.”

  I’d had enough of pain. My fingers drifted again to the bruises on my neck.

  He noticed my reaction. “The bruises should be gone in a day or two. I promise you can count on me. I’ll keep you safe.”

  I sat in the chair, and he tied my hands behind my back with a length of rope. The rope cut into my flesh.

  He pulled gently on the knot. “It needs to be tight enough to hold whatever may come through, but if it’s too tight let me know.”

  Next, he tied each of my legs to one of the chair legs. And last he attached a length around my waist.

  He tugged on the rope again. Satisfied, he moved back in front of me. “How are you doing?”

  I nodded my head. “Go ahead. Do it. Let’s get this over with.”

  He walked over and opened the drapes and then slid open the window. He then went over and flicked off the lights. The candles glowed in the dark. He took out a piece of red chalk from his pocket and leaned over and began to draw a symbol on the floor. It was a pentagram surrounded by a triangle. At each point he drew words I didn’t recognize.

  He looked up and saw me watching him. “Latin. I’m not sure what’ll be coming through. It’s getting closer to a dark moon and that sometimes makes the spirits stronger. I want to be prepared for whatever comes.”

  “You’re drawing a protection circle?”

  “Not just for protection. It also amps up my abilities. Focuses them, allows me to be at my strongest.” He went back to drawing. He finished the circle and then slowly etched out a phoenix to one side of it. When he was done, he stood up and wiped the chalk from his hands onto his pants. “Ready?” he asked.

  No, I would never be ready to be possessed by spirits. But we were here, and I was committed. Or should be committed, I thought wryly. This was crazy. I took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

  “Goddess protect me,” I said the prayer under my breath.

  He walked over and picked up a leather bound book. He flipped open the book and looked up at me. “Here we go.” He started to read from the book. Latin flew from his mouth.