Awakening

by Catrina Burgess

  Shock at his reaction quickly gave way to anger. Here I was, trying to help him, and he was looking at me like I was evil and dangerous. I realized my hands were clenched into fists, and I had strong irrational urge to hit him. This man was losing his mother. I should have been feeling sympathy for him, and instead I only felt anger toward him. What was happening to me?

  I took a step back. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  I turned and rushed out of the door. I headed down the hallway and ran into Luke.

  Luke held up his hands. “Whoa. I was looking for you. Is everything okay?”

  I couldn’t get the image of the man’s expression as he looked at me out of my head. That look of fear and repulsion that came over his face as he realized what I was.

  I nodded my head. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

  Luke grabbed my hand. “I’m done. We can go.”

  I started to walk away and the voice whispered after me, “Thank you. Thank you for telling him.”

  This was now my life. Passing on messages from the dead. A chill ran down my spine. Being despised and feared by people was now my life. What had been done to me could never be undone. I had opened the doorway to the spirits, and now I would spend the rest of my life seeing them and hearing them.

  Chapter Nine

  Séance

  When we returned to Pagan’s place, Luke announced that he’d some research he had to do before the next ritual. He grabbed a half dozen books off various bookshelves scattered around the room and piled them onto the dining room table.

  He met my offer of assistance with a half smile and a “No thanks, I’ve got this.”

  Left to my own devices, I paced around the living room. Waiting for my family’s spirits to appear meant that I was more than a bit on edge. Every noise had me jumping. When I grew tired of pacing, I spent a long while flipping through magazines I found on the coffee table. An hour passed and then another and nothing happened.

  A storm had been brewing outside, and it finally made its appearance. The dark clouds opened up, and rain slid against the windows. I got up and sat by the window watching the trees blow back and forth in the wind. The temperature in the room dropped, but this time the chill was nature’s doing--the storm lowered the temperature. It was getting quite cold outside.

  It was also chilly inside. I rubbed my hands together and looked over at the dying fire. A stack of wood leaned against the wall, so I got up and threw a couple of logs onto the fire. I spent quite a bit of time squatting in front of the flames, stabbing at them with a long black fire iron. More time passed, and I was bored and extremely hungry. I hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch, and when my stomach growled for the second time, I dropped the fire iron and headed into the kitchen. It was time to make myself something to eat.

  I passed Luke sitting at the table, bent over a book. Whatever he was reading had captured his full attention.

  I stopped and sat down in the chair next to him. “How’s it going?”

  He didn’t look up. “Fine. Everything’s fine. Any contact from your family yet?”

  “No, no spirits.”

  Another book lay open on the table in front of me. I took a closer look. It was a big book, covered in brown leather, the pages yellow with age. Intricate drawings done in black ink covered the pages. I leaned closer and studied a picture of a man standing before a big block of stone, a dozen faces floating around him. Those must be Banshees. Other things surrounded the banshees--bigger, darker things. I wondered what they were.

  “How’s your research going?” I reached out to tug the book closer.

  Luke grabbed my hand and pulled it back. “Don’t touch the books.”

  “I just wanted to take a look.”

  His expression was serious. “I’m not worried about the books. I’m worried about you.” He held up the book he’d been reading. “The books have power. Spells have been done to them. You’re still untrained and wide open. There’s no telling what could happen.”

  I yanked my hand away and pushed my chair back. Talking to the dead was more than enough for me to handle at the moment. The last thing I wanted or needed was more freaky and scary in my life.

  I waved my hand at the table. “Does this stuff have something to do with the last ritual?”

  He closed the book in front of him. “Not this one.” He pointed to another book. “That one has the spells I’ve got to do for the ritual.”

  “Spells? There’s more than one?” I didn’t like the sound of that.

  He ran his hand through his hair, looking tired. “It’s a complicated ritual. I told you before I’ve never done them--I’ve only watched others do them. But this last one. It’s very tricky, and I’ve only seen it performed a couple of times.”

  “But you can do it?”

  He looked away for a few minutes before answering, “I think I can.”

  His reluctance didn’t make me feel any better about the ritual. “Did you get what you needed?”

  He gave me a questioning look.

  “At the hospital, did you get what you needed to do the spell?” I asked.

  He replied in a low voice, “We can do the last ritual tomorrow night.”

  Tomorrow night. I was going through the last ritual tomorrow night. I wondered how bad it was going to be and if he’d give me some kind of warning at the last minute. A speech like he’d given me before the first two rituals about how things didn’t always turn out well and the people who’d messed them up weren’t around anymore. I gave myself a mental shake. I’d survived the first two rituals. I could survive this last one.

  “And until tomorrow night, what’s the plan of action?” I took a few steps back. Better to give the books some distance. I didn’t like the idea that they had spells swirling around them.

  “We wait for your family to contact you.”

  “And if they don’t?” They hadn’t so far. I was starting to wonder if they ever would.

  He gave me a half smile. “They will.” He turned back to the table, grabbed another one of the books and started flipping through the pages.

  Luke seemed more stressed and preoccupied with this ritual than any of the others. Why is this one so different? I wanted to ask, but I swallowed my question. Did I really want to know? Each ritual had some freaky aspect to it. First I’d been strangled and then brought back. Then I’d had a spirit possess me. God only knew what this next trial would entail. But we weren’t doing it until tomorrow night. The more I knew, the more time I had to worry about what might happen.

  “I’m going to make myself something to eat. Are you hungry?”

  He looked up and gave me another smile. “No, but thanks for asking.” He motioned toward the books. “I’m just going to get back to this.”

  “Okay. Good luck.” I didn’t know what else to say. I turned and made my way into the kitchen.

  I hunted around the cupboards and the fridge. If we were going to stay here any longer, we would need to get more food. There weren’t a lot of choices grub wise. I poured myself a glass of milk, slapped together a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then food in hand, made my way back to the living room.

  I ate in front of the fire. When finished, I decided to lie down and close my eyes. There was no reason not to take a nap. Nothing pressing had to be done. If my family was going to contact me, they would. There wasn’t anything I could do to speed up the process.

  A blanket lay on the back of one of the chairs. I grabbed it and pulled it over me as I settled down on the couch. I closed my eyes and tried to empty my mind. After a while, I drifted off to sleep. And the dreams began.

  I was back in the pantry. James closed the doors in front of me and whispered the spell that locked me in. I watched in horror as men surrounded my family. My father fought. He struggled hard, using magic to keep the men at bay, but the defensive magic of a healer was no match for the physical and magical forces he was facing. They quickly overpowered him. They grabbed him f
rom both sides and forced him down to his knees.

  A man I didn’t recognize pulled out a knife and raised it high in the air.

  “Join us and live or refuse us and die,” the man demanded.

  “Macaven, I’ll never be a part of your madness,” my father yelled.

  Before I could cry out, the man brought the knife down fast and hard against my father’s throat. Blood gushed out. Desperation filled my father’s eyes as he struggled to get free. The more my father struggled, the faster the blood spilled. It ran down his shirt and splattered onto the floor. Gradually my father stopped resisting. His body went limp. The men let go of his arms, and my father fell forward, crashing to the floor.

  I cried out. I screamed. I pushed and shoved against the pantry doors. My fingers bled as I clawed at the wooden slats, trying to force my way through. But I couldn’t get out.

  I watched the man holding my mother throw her across the room. She fell to the floor. And then she was up on her feet and running. But she only took two steps before her body lurched forward. A bullet tore through her and embedded into the wall. A red spot appeared on her forehead as she twisted around and fell backward. She slammed into the wall and slid to the ground.

  I closed my eyes, covered my hands over my face and screamed “No!” over and over. I slumped forward, tears streaming down my face. I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. I don’t know how long I was there, on the floor. There was only grief. Pain and rage filled my mind and body. Time seemed to stand still.

  This wasn’t happening. This was a nightmare I would wake from any moment. I finally sat up and forced myself back on my feet. That’s when I heard James’s screams. I made myself look again through the wooden slats.

  James stood on the other end of the room, his hands raised in the air. Magic flowed from his fingers until other magic came crashing down on top of his and forced him back. Another scream ripped from his throat, and I watched in horror as they scooped James’s spirit from his body. Some sort of death magic I had never seen before skipped the step of murder and went straight to stealing his soul. They tore his soul from his body. Forced it out and threw his spirit into the sea of unrest. I could hear James’s anguish as his spirit left this world and was sucked into the other. James’s screams lingered until I didn’t think I could take it any longer. I clamped my hands over my ears, praying to wake from this horrible nightmare.

  And then my eyes opened.

  Luke stood over me, gently shaking my shoulder. ”You were crying out in your sleep.”

  “I was?” I touched my cheeks, which were wet with tears.

  He sat down next to me. “You were calling out a name.”

  I sat up. “What time is it?”

  “It’s late.” He was suddenly anxious. “Colina, did your brother’s spirit come to you?”

  “It was just a dream. I remembered what happened to my family. It was a nightmare.” The same nightmare I’d had since my family was killed.

  Luke looked grim. “There’s been no contact with your family?”

  “None,” I whispered.

  Luke’s fist came down hard on the coffee table. “It doesn’t make sense!”

  “Maybe they went to the light.”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced. He turned and watched the fire. “But their deaths were so sudden and unexpected.” He turned back to me. “The way they died…violently. I was so sure they’d come to you.”

  Images rushed into my mind again, those last terrible moments of my family’s lives forever embedded in my mind. I tried to force those horrific memories away.

  We watched the fire for a while in silence.

  Luke reached out and grabbed my hand. “There’s something we can try, but it’s not something I would normally even think about doing. But we’re running out of options and time.” He squeezed my hand. “It could be dangerous.”

  “More dangerous than the trials?” I whispered.

  “No.”

  I realized I’d been holding my breath and let it out.

  “Have you ever used an Ouija board?”

  At his question, I sucked in a breath. Was he serious? An Ouija board? “My parents would never have allowed one in the house.”

  He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “My kind doesn’t need the boards to communicate with those on the other side. Since you’ve become one of us, since you’ve gone through the first two rituals, you can contact any spirit that wants to communicate with you.”

  “If my parents or James wanted to talk to me, they could communicate with me directly?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but since they aren’t coming to you, there’s a way we can persuade them to communicate.”

  “Force them like you force the banshees?” The notion of binding my family like that made me ill.

  His voice was low. “This is different. The banshee is a spirit that willingly comes to you. Once you’re in contact with spirits, you can bind them to you. Make them do your bidding. You create the banshee. If your family is out there, their spirits unsettled, we can use the board and do a spell that will make them come to you. Forcing a spirit forward isn’t something we normally do. The spirits, when they come to you this way, are angry and upset.”

  Upset and angry spirits. Not something I wanted to deal with. Ever. “So making them show up pisses them off?”

  “Yes, and spirits do have power. They can hurt you physically.”

  I touched the scratches on my arm. “Like the scratches I got from the banshee.”

  “If they’re angry enough they can touch the living and manipulate objects.”

  I sucked in a breath and jumped to my feet. “Manipulate objects. You mean move things?”

  “Knock things over, throw things.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. I turned away and walked toward the fire. I stood there watching the flames for a long while before I asked, “We do this spell and my parents will come?”

  Luke came to my side. “If they’re around, yes.”

  “And then what?”

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “Then we try to get any information we can that will help us find Darla.”

  I turned and looked at him. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  He looked surprised at my answer.

  I shrugged. “We don’t have a choice, right? Without their help, we’ve no idea where to start looking for your sister.”

  “Right.” He looked around the room. “Pagan has an Ouija board somewhere. We can use it. This could get a bit tricky. The board is a catalyst to the other side on its own. The spell just amps it up and then focuses it and sort of pings the other side. Puts out a call, beckoning whatever spirit you’re searching for to come to you. If they’re around, they’ll make an appearance. They’ve no choice.” He looked more than uneasy. “Unfortunately, if something else is out there, it might also try to break through. We have to be on our guard and keep anything unwanted from answering the call we put out.”

  I didn’t like the whole idea of the “something else” that might break through. I imagined dark things, like what I’d felt when I’d been shoved aside, and the spirit of Wanda had taken me over. “How many times have you done this?” I hoped to hear “a zillion.”

  “A few.”

  Terrific. I sighed. “What do we need for the spell?”

  “Some candles and a medallion.”

  “The gypsy used a medallion to heal you.”

  “She did. There are different kinds of focus items. You can fill them with spells. Give them power and then release that power when you need to.”

  What choice did we have but to do this? We had no idea where Darla was. If she was still alive, if there was still time to save her, we had to do whatever it took to find her before it was too late.

  But an Ouija board? Luke had said this would be less dangerous than the rituals, but I didn’t know if I believed him. My kind had been brought up to fear things like the Ouija board. Communicating with spirits was consi
dered unnatural, something evil. But the spirits were communicating with me now whether I wanted them to or not. Did it really matter how I talked to them?

  I wrapped my arms around my body and tried to force away the panic consuming me.

  * * * *

  The books had been cleared from the dining room table. Now in the center of the table sat the Ouija board. Four white candles surrounded it, and on the outside of the candles lay a black bag and two small bowls, one black, the other red.

  Luke had a large metal amulet hanging from a thick, silver chain around his neck. The amulet had a black phoenix etched into its surface.

  We sat across the table from each other.

  I looked at the board with trepidation. It was only another way of communicating with the spirits, right? I kept telling myself that and tried to believe it, but there was something ominous about the board. It felt wrong. Evil.

  The wooden board had a polished surface, making it shine. Letters and words gleamed against the grain in sharp contrast.

  I leaned in to get a better look.

  In the top left corner was the word Yes. In the top right corner was the word No. Below these two words were letters from the alphabet. The letters were arranged in two rows, and each row was arched in a way that created a half circle. Beneath the letters were numbers--one through nine. There was no number ten, but there was a zero to the right of the number nine. And below the numbers, the word Goodbye.

  A pointer sat on top of the board. A heart shaped piece of plastic mounted on three felt-tipped legs. At the tip of the pointer, there was a circle that was transparent, to show the selected letter or number beneath.

  “We both place our fingers on the planchette.”

  “The what?”

  Luke gestured toward the white plastic pointer. “It’s called a planchette. We ask questions and the spirits answer by moving the planchette back and forth around the board.”

  It sounded easy enough.

  “But before we begin, I have to do a few things.” He rose and took out a green bundle about four inches long from the black bag on the table.