Awakening

by Catrina Burgess

  Some of the words I recognized. I had been given some lessons in Latin, but I had forgotten most of it. Yet there seemed to be words that were now whispering in the corner of my memory.

  “Animus,” he said the word for spirit. He raised his arms and shouted out, “ex vita abire!”

  Which was something about death. And as the last word left his lips a light began to form by the window.

  At first I thought that it was a trick of my eyes. The shadows from the candles flickering against the ceiling and the floor. But these shadows were moving. They were coming at me. I didn’t bother to stifle my horrified scream, as the shadows stretched out and rushed toward me.

  I was drowning. It felt like my body was being sucked down into a whirlpool of darkness. The worst part, I suddenly realized I was not alone. There was something there in the darkness with me. I could feel its presence. It was close, watching and waiting. I tried pushing myself to the surface and, for a brief moment, I broke free and felt myself rising up. Then something grabbed me and started to pull me back down. I kicked, and I struggled but to no avail. Whatever was holding me, its grip was too strong.

  Then all movement stopped, and I found myself in a small, grey place. I could no longer feel my body, but I could hear voices. My ears strained to make sense of the words.

  The conversation was garbled at first, but then it became clearer. I realized in horror that it was my voice speaking. But then again it wasn’t my voice, it didn’t sound like me. It was a voice coming from my lips, I realized, but something had possession of my body. Something was working my lips and vocal cords, and at the realization, I felt myself fall further into the oblivion.

  “Good evening death dealer.”

  Luke’s voice answered, “Who are you?”

  “You want to know my name? We both know there’s power in a name.”

  “Who are you?” This time Luke’s voice was louder, more commanding.

  “I’m Wanda Branston. There you forced it out of me. Aren’t you proud? What a nice looking young man you are. I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. If you let me keep this one, I promise to do your bidding.”

  “You will leave her when I tell you,” Luke sounded angry.

  “Will I? Do you think you’re strong enough to make me go? We’ll see. But if you let me stay, you can have a greater power than you do now. I see those you keep with you. The spirits that you’ve harnessed to do your bidding. I could be one of them, or better yet, let me keep this body. Let me once again roam the earth.”

  “Colina, can you hear me?” Luke’s voice called out to me.

  I could hear his voice, but I couldn’t respond. I was in this small, dark, place, alone and frightened.

  “Colina, you have to fight, bring yourself to the surface. You’re stronger than the spirit.”

  “Is she boy?” Wanda’s voice spoke. “Do you really think this youngling is going to be able to break free?”

  “Colina, focus on my voice. Center your thoughts all on my voice. I know you’re feeling fear right now, and that’s what the spirit feeds on. Break the fear and find yourself again, and you’ll regain control.”

  And as he said the last words I felt the presence move closer to me, and I heard a wicked giggle next to me. It was all in my imagination. I wasn’t in a small, dark space--my body was tied to a chair in a room. I tried to force the panic and fear away or at least to gain control of it.

  I’m not afraid. Luke will make sure I’m not hurt. As the words echoed in my mind, I felt the presence edge further away.

  I can do this. I can break the surface and regain myself. I struggled, and struggled some more, but it felt like I was wrapped in cotton candy.

  Luke’s voice spoke out again. “Is there anything you want to tell me before I banish you Spirit?”

  Wanda answered with a cackle, “What? Kind words for my loved ones? Maybe a secret I could share with them or you? Is that what you think I’ll do? Be grateful for your passing my words onto the living and then I’ll leave quietly. That’s what you hope for isn’t it boy? But I won’t go. I won’t, do you hear me! I’m here, breathing this fresh air. Smelling the, what’s that, yes jasmine in the air. I love the smell of jasmine. And the stars. The way they glimmer in the night sky. I miss living.”

  “You can’t stay. You can’t have this body,” Luke said.

  “But why not? I beat others to get to it. Finders, keepers! It’s a strong body, a young body. It’s mine now and I won’t give it up!”

  “You don’t have a choice.” More Latin words. Luke was working a spell.

  “Stop, stop I say. You can’t make me go!” Wanda screamed.

  In the darkness suddenly there was a small glimmer of colored lights. The lights expanded and as they did I tried to reach out to them. But before I could, the presence was there beside me again. It spoke not from outside, but the voice this time was now inside my head. “I won’t go! You hear me girly. I’m not leaving again!”

  As the voice spoke, I realized in horror that there wasn’t just one presence near me. I felt other things. There was no sound or physical shapes, just movement and gray swirls of what? Something in the blackness was near me. I suddenly felt like a deer in the woods being hunted by wolves. There was something out there worse than Wanda. Something out there waiting and hungry. I was so small and vulnerable, and any moment it would reach out and grab me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  Fear raced through me. A panic I had never felt before gripped me and I tried to cry out.

  “Colina,” Luke’s voice again. “You have to break free. I can’t do this without your help.”

  And if he couldn’t do this would I be stuck forever in this small corner of what…where was I? Darkness, emptiness. Was this hell? Was this the ether sea?

  Wanda’s voice inside my head cried out, “No girly this isn’t the other side. And it ain’t heaven neither. No loved ones surrounding you. I’ve tried to go to the light, I have, but I can’t seem to get there. It beckons to me, but every time I move its way it disappears. So here I am, floating around. But now I have a chance. I have you. You’ve given me a chance to be alive again. To live in the outside world. You just be a good girly and stay put.”

  No. the word resounded inside me. I wouldn’t be forced into this corner of darkness forever. Luke was waiting for me out there.

  You won’t hold me here. I’ll break free. As I said the words in my head, I felt the panic and fear start to ebb away.

  Luke said fear fueled the possessing spirit. The more scared I was the stronger it became. I had to be brave. I had to trust that he could get me out. I could do this. I forced myself to concentrate on the lights again. I reached out with my mind and my being. I could do this. I would do this.

  “You can’t. Stop fighting. Just give in and let me stay.” Wanda’s voice sounded weaker now.

  No. This time when the word echoed through my mind I felt myself rise. I felt the presence shrink back. Wanda was no longer controlling me, but as she left I felt something else move in to take her place. Something bigger and darker. There was no voice, no personality trying to overcome, just desperate anger. It seeped inside me, a cold anger filling me up. I felt as if I was drowning. I fell back into that small, empty place again, but this time there was a light, a bright light that seemed to be coming, not from outside, but from within. The light began to dim, and I reached out to it. It grew brighter, and suddenly it was like I was pulled from the dark waters, I broke the surface and gasped in a breath of air.

  I was back in my body. My head was throbbing, my chest was pounding, but I was back in the chair. I felt the ropes digging into my flesh. I felt a cramp in my left leg. I let out a cry of relief and Luke was beside me.

  “Colina?” He whispered my name and looked into my eyes.

  “It’s me,” the words came out a sob.

  He nodded his head and untied me. And then he reached out and pulled me toward him. I was in his arms.


  I should have felt comforted to be free--to be with him standing in his arms. I should have felt safe, but I didn’t. Everything looked different. The room, his face, even the air around me smelled different. It was hard to explain. Had I truly come back? Was this really me? Or was a part of me still in that dark corner? No, I was here. I felt his shirt pressed against my cheek.

  There was no evil cackling of the spirit Wanda or the feeling of her presence around me. I was me. But somehow I was not the same. And the thought terrified me.

  * * * *

  I stood in the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I no longer recognized myself. Something about me had changed. My face was my own, yet it wasn’t. What had the rituals done to me? I studied my reflection. It was almost as though I was seeing a shadow of another face on top of mine. A wiped my hand over my face. No, it was me in the mirror, but something was not the same. It was something in my eyes, in my expression--it wasn’t just the way I looked I felt different. A darkness now filled me. The awakening was dangerous the gypsy healer had said. I felt as if my soul had been torn from my body and when it had been replaced it was not put back fully. I was not myself. I had been shattered. The world looked bleaker, greyer. And in the place where normally there was fear I now felt anger. It burned through me like a great flame fueling my blood. Before I had felt powerless and helpless, but not anymore. Now I was invincible. I was ready and willing to fight, and I felt a sudden desire to inflict pain.

  Inflict pain. The thought stopped me cold. It was true I felt an odd desire to hurt someone, which was not in my nature. It was true I had wanted the men who killed my family to die. But I had never really thought about actually killing them. Their death was more of an abstract thought. Somehow they should die. I had been brought up as a healer, to care for people and take away their pain. And yet, this new-found desire to see someone cower before me, to feel their fear, was so strong I could almost taste it.

  The awakening was dangerous, the gypsy said, and I now understood what she meant. I felt as though I stood on a great abyss, a sea of darkness that reached before me and within the darkness nameless, faceless voices and shadows called out to me, enticing me to come join them.

  The thought of what those men did to my family made a swell of violence fill me. As it consumed me, the hatred roared through my body and my blood. If I could have gotten my hands around the necks of the men that hurt my family, I would have strangled them with my bare hands. I would make them suffer, like they had made my family suffer. Slit their throats and watch the blood ooze from their gashed necks. Watch bullets tear into their flesh. And at the thought a feeling of glee…was it glee? It was. It filled me, and as it did I looked again at my face in the mirror. My face was contorted in rage and hate. Violence gleamed out of my eyes, and my hands reached toward the reflection in the mirror. Who was this girl? It couldn’t be me. But it was.

  Darla. You must save Darla. The words whispered across my brain. I had forgotten about her. My lust for vengeance had filled me in a way it never had before and that terrified me. I was changing. I was becoming, what? I was becoming whatever I had to in order to survive. I turned and walked away from the mirror.

  Chapter Eight

  Just Remember to Breathe

  I went through Darla’s suitcase a second time looking for something to wear. I held up a yellow top and threw it back down on the bed. I couldn’t bring myself to put on the cheerful color. It didn’t match my current mood. I wasn’t even sure what that mood was. I woke up in a funk. I had finally slept--no tossing or turning this time, but I woke with a heaviness that seemed to fill the air around me. My brain wasn’t working at full speed. I felt slowed down both mentally and physically, drained by last night’s activities. I should be thankful I had survived another one of the rituals--instead a feeling of foreboding filled me. Cheerful clothes no longer seemed appropriate--a darkness had touched the very essence of my being and had changed me. I held up another brightly colored top and realized I had the sudden desire to dress in a way that matched how I felt inside.

  I rummaged through Pagan’s closet since she wasn’t around to protest, and hit pay dirt. I shimmied into a tight black dress that flared out around my knees and threw on a dark grey and black striped sweater over the top of it for warmth. A pair of black tights and black, lace up, chunky boots finished the ensemble.

  In the bathroom, I helped myself to a drawer full of makeup. I normally didn’t bother with the stuff, but today was a day for something different. I lined my eyes with thick black eyeliner and opened one lipstick, and then another, until I came across a deep purple. I took my finger and ran it over the surface of the lipstick then leaned forward and carefully smeared the purple over my top and bottom lip. My hand reached up and touched the hair hanging in gentle waves to my shoulders. In another drawer, I found a straightener, and I took my time taming my wavy hair until it was straight and sleek. Finally satisfied, I took a step back and gave a closer look at my image in the mirror.

  Gone was the middle class girl who’d stepped into the magic shop days ago and in her place stood someone who now looked more dark and dangerous. I stared at my reflection for a long time. I had always been an optimistic person. I had always been surrounded by happy people, but that part of me, the part that considered the glass half full, now seemed very, very far away.

  * * * *

  When I was done I made my way into the kitchen. Luke was pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

  He slowly took in my appearance. “New look?”

  I shrugged my shoulders and tried not to feel self-conscious. “I guess.” I opened a loaf of bread sitting on the counter and slid two pieces into the toaster.

  “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders again. He looked at me waiting for an answer, and when I realized he was not going to let it go, I finally admitted, “I don’t feel like myself. It’s hard to explain.”

  His expression changed and turned more serious. “It happens after the rituals.”

  His answer surprised me. “Did you feel different, afterwards?”

  He nodded his head. “I did.”

  “In what way?”

  “I became…” he turned and stared out the window a few seconds before answering, “Stronger. Harder.”

  Last night right after I had broken free of the possession I had no longer felt the panic or fear that had been swirling inside me. The fear that had been my constant companion since I had watched my parents get murdered. I had felt, for a short period of time, invincible. And it had been exhilarating. But slowly the fear had come back. And when it did, it wasn’t as strong, or as overpowering as before. But along with the fear I now felt a new sense of…it was hard to put into word. Violence? Hatred? Whatever it was it seemed to be at, this very minute, coursing through my veins and warming my blood.

  When I first met Luke I had sensed an overwhelming violence that had seemed to radiate from his whole being. Was this a product of the rituals? As I continued forward, would I keep changing? Morphing into someone different? Before I could voice my questions, I realized I suddenly felt very odd.

  A tingling at the base of my neck slowly spread and radiated down my spine. The room turned cold. We weren’t alone. I titled my head and looked over to the far corner of the kitchen. Something was there. Something not of this world.

  I looked over at Luke and realized he was staring at the same spot.

  “There’s a spirit. I can feel it.”

  Here was the power I had begged to learn. The Death Arts--magic at the upmost top of the food chain. I could now feel the spirits and, at the realization, I was shaken to my very core.

  Being possessed, having my very essence forced into the dark recesses of oblivion, had been a terrifying experience. I hadn’t been in control of my body. Something else had looked out of my eyes and spoken with my vocal cords. Something else had been inside me, and I was freaked out at the prospect of it happening agai
n.

  I stood frozen, unable to tear my eyes away from the corner, horrified that at any minute I would see a rush of dark shadows coming toward me again.

  “Tell me what you see,” Luke said, coming to my side. He put his hand on my shoulder.

  For the first time since the night in the cemetery, I didn’t recoil at his touch. Instead, I had a strong desire to throw myself into his arms and beg to be protected. I didn’t want any part of the thing in the corner. Didn’t want to deal with whatever restless soul that was lingering around the ether sea waiting for the opportunity to jump into me again. At the thought, I wrapped my arms around myself. But this is what I wanted, I reminded myself. I was getting my deepest desire, and if we were going to save Darla I had to face down my worst fears.

  I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the corner. “I don’t see anything.”

  “You’re not looking hard enough.”

  I glanced around the kitchen. As my eyes passed over a small mirror hanging from the wall near the fridge, I could have sworn I saw a shadow move across its surface.

  “By the mirror?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Luke answered. “Now try communicating with it.”

  I shook my head and took a step back. “But… what if… what if… it takes me over?” I forced the words out between clenched teeth.

  “This spirit is someone I’ve dealt with before. I promise you, he won’t hurt you. You don’t have to be afraid. Just open yourself up and communicate with him.”

  “How?” I asked, my hands now trembling.

  Luke’s voice was calm and reassuring. “Reach out with your mind. Focus all your energy in the direction of the shadow.”

  A wisp of breeze, where I knew there was none, rustled the window coverings and the room got even colder. I could actually see my breath.

  Luke was suddenly behind me, he leaned against me and whispered in my ear, “You can do this. Trust yourself. I’m here to help you.”

  The image of darkness filled my head. Those swirls of gray floating around me, hungry things, awful things, that I could feel coming near me. The cackle of Wanda’s voice inside my head. As the memories rushed in, I felt the panic rise from the pit of my stomach.