Poltergeeks

by Sean Cummings

  A Lieger to the Devil sent,

  Fully impowr'd to treat about

  Finding revolted witches out

  And has not he, within a year,

  Hang'd threescore of 'em in one shire?

  Some only for not being drown'd,

  And some for sitting above ground,

  Whole days and nights, upon their breeches,

  And feeling pain, were hang'd for witches.'

  "I know you're here, Matthew Hopkins and this is one witch who's going to kick your sorry ass before this night is over! Show yourself and face me you fourhundred year-old freak!"

  An eerie calm descended on the rugby field. The only sound I could hear was the rush of the wind blowing through the bleachers and a panting Great Dane standing at my side.

  But only for a moment. The sound of footsteps echoed across the concrete surface of the alcove as Hudibras cleared the gates and strode out onto the field.

  And he was a she.

  Chapter 26

  Betrayal is one of those crushing experiences in life that you never, ever see coming. It's always someone close to you who becomes a turncoat and you feel like they've kicked you in the stomach so hard that you can't even breathe. A poisonous rage mixed with the sting of humiliation surges through your veins and you wind up feeling like a complete idiot for having allowed yourself to fall victim to it. It's a slap in the face from someone you trusted. Someone you thought you knew. Someone who is so fucking clever they can hide their true intent right up until the very moment they stab you in the back.

  I'd fully expected someone taller and definitely male. Instead, I stared across the field at none other than Marla Lavik, and from the glowing coals where her eyes were supposed to be, I could tell that Marla had left the building and wouldn't be coming back any time soon.

  I'd known Marla since Junior High. We'd hung out together; shared secrets together, schemed together and even dreamed together from time to time. I stood by her when her parents declared war on each other and she faced the custody battle from hell. I cried with her when she showed up on my doorstep after her mother refused to let her see her dad for what seemed like the hundredth time. I studied with her, went to the movies with her. Christ, my mom and I even took her to a spa on my fourteenth birthday and now she stood before me, her body vibrating with supernatural power.

  But Marla wasn't a practitioner like me. True, she emitted the tiniest of magical signatures but if she had any abilities at all, I had always assumed they were probably of the Ouija board variety.

  The kind of Ouija board a complete amateur uses when they're trying to summon a spirit.

  I didn't have a clue what Marla had against me that would drive her to make a pact with a force like the spirit of Matthew Hopkins and it didn't matter. She'd just displayed an unimaginable level of power and that told me Marla was drawing on Matthew Hopkins' centuries-old hatred of witches to make her magic work. She just hadn't planned on winding up as his puppet when she summoned him and she probably didn't have a clue that the price of her pact might just be a shattered mind once this was all over.

  And then it hit me.

  The scorched symbol behind the toilet in the girls' washroom. She'd summoned Hopkins' spirit in that bathroom stall just before all hell broke loose.

  "That's my girlfriend!" I whispered to Betty. "That's Marla Lavik. She set me up!"

  Betty the dog snorted. "She certainly dresses in a depressing fashion."

  Marla had gone all out in her choice of wardrobe for our duel.

  She was clad in a tight, black corset with a sheer black blouse, teamed with a pair of black hotpants beneath a leather trenchcoat. A pair of patent leather boots that gleamed under the bright lights of the field covered her legs up to her knees. Her jet-black hair was crimped and pulled back by a spider-shaped comb and her face was chalk white, with a thick coating of black lipstick on a pair of lips that wore a snarl.

  And those eyes; they appeared nothing more than lifeless orbs set deep in her skull but the unearthly glow from where her pupils should have been told me that the spirit of Matthew Hopkins was somewhere inside and through her he intended to take me down.

  "She's your friend, Julie," Betty the dog rumbled. "You need to get Hopkins out of her without killing the girl."

  "Screw that! I want to tear her face off!" I snarled.

  "Killing her will only lead you down a dark path," she warned. "So don't do it."

  "She wants to kill me, Betty!" I snapped. "Or hadn't you noticed that when the tornado ripped through the bleachers?"

  Betty nudged my shoulder with her huge doggy head, smearing me with drool. "Save the girl's life, Shadowcull. Perhaps you will save her soul and your mother's while you're at it."

  God damn it, I hate it when other people are right! It would have felt great to peel the skin from Marla's flesh but at the end of the day I'd be no better than the dark entity that was working through her. I'd been duped and humiliated by someone I called my friend, but I wasn't angry enough to kill. Talk about shitty justice. Marla hated me so much that she called up the spirit of Matthew Hopkins, stole my mother's soul and tried to kill me on four separate occasions in as many days and I had to be the good guy.

  "Witchfinder General!" I shouted across the field. "Give me back my mother's soul or face the consequences!"

  Marla cocked her head to the right and her snarl became a chilling, crooked smile. "Silence, hag!" she shouted, only it wasn't Marla's voice. Instead, she spoke in a male voice with a thick English accent. "My aim is to send you into the abyss!"

  Okay, nobody calls me a hag and gets away with it. I raised my right arm and shouted, "Hit him with everything now, Marcus!"

  A volley of witch's chaff landed with a series of soft thuds in front of Hopkins. I bellowed out a hex and each one exploded, filling the air around the Witchfinder General with a dense cloud of smoke until all I could see were the burning embers where Marla's eyes should have been.

  Hopkins didn't even cough. Instead, he stepped through the wall of smoke as easily as someone stepping out of the shower and he made a lifting motion with his hands. Suddenly a row of buried sprinklers popped out of the ground and sprayed Hopkins with about a dozen or so cold jets of water.

  "Underground sprinklers!" I groaned. "Why didn't I plan for that?"

  Betty bared her teeth and started growling as Hopkins strode through the sprinklers, emerging about thirty feet away from me, dripping wet. I glanced at my wrist and threw one of my father's binding spells at Hopkins. He waved it aside as easily as waving away an annoying fly and it was at this point that I realized I was in big trouble.

  "Ideas, Betty?" I whispered.

  "I recommend some distraction and then a flanking of sorts," she said, motioning her enormous head toward the bleachers and Marcus.

  "Hit her hard, Marcus!" I shrieked, as I made a beeline for the magic circle. Betty the dog tore across the field opposite me while Marcus started firing volley after volley of high velocity ball bearings at the body of Marla Lavik. Naturally this only fuelled Hopkins' rage and strengthened his magic, so I had to hit him with everything in me. I grated my teeth together and threw a blast of spectral force that nailed him square in the chest and sent Marla's body sailing through the air. I sensed static electricity in the atmosphere above and I drew my spirit into a giant hand that gathered the energy into a bolt of lightning that blasted out of the clouds like a giant, electrified sledgehammer. The earth exploded in front of Hopkins who was struggling to get back to his feet, so I set another ball of compressed force that streaked across the field like a bullet train.

  Hopkins was prepared this time. He extended his arms and bellowed something that sounded like backwards English. My blast of force ricocheted off his magical shield and shot up into the sky like a rocket, and he wasn't done yet. His eyes blazed furiously as he spun around like a top, then as if on cue, every single light at the Calgary Rugby Union exploded in unison, sending out a lethal mixture of sparks and s
hards of glass in every direction. Darkness fell on the stadium like a death shroud, so I pulled my hood over my head and stretched out my hand to get a fix on Hopkins' magical signature.

  Everything was silent for a moment as I intensified my focus. I reached out through the blackness, willing my power to pinpoint his location but I came up empty. I was just about to cast an illumination spell when I felt something hit me between the shoulder blades. There was a blinding flash for less than a second as the magical wards sewn into my cloak deflected the energy of the attack, but they did nothing to stop me from hurtling through the air. I landed in a heap next to a goalpost.

  "The trouble with hags is they never realize their vile nature until the end," Hopkins' voice boomed across the empty field. "It's always that way when the guilty are about to be punished!"

  I shook my head and coughed hard as I tried to get my bearings. I blinked a few times as I searched the darkness for Marla's form, but my instincts told me she was well hidden behind a shroud.

  I got back to my feet and quickly gathered my magic. I spun around, sweeping my hands across my body as I sent out a wide crescent of emerald energy. It rolled across the empty field like a thunderhead, kicking up giant clumps of sod in its wake. I grunted agreeably at the display of my power and I was just about to fire off another salvo when I felt a sharp blow against the side of my head as searing pain drilled itself straight into the center of my brain. My neck snapped sharply to the right with such force I could have sworn I heard a loud crack. Instantly, my legs buckled beneath me and I dropped to the ground like a brick.

  I don't know how long I was out for, but when I came to I had a mouth full of dirt and I gasped for air. I pushed myself up onto my hands, willing my legs to move but nothing happened. I grated my teeth together and pushed with all my strength as Betty's furious barking filled the empty stadium. There was a loud yelp followed by silence for a few seconds and then I heard the sound of Hopkins' boots strolling across the broken and battered turf of the stadium.

  I pushed hard again, dragging myself behind the goalpost, as if the post itself could somehow protect me from Hopkins. Pain shot down my spine in fiery currents and tears welled up in my eyes. I rolled over onto my back and somehow managed to dig my heels into the ground – at least my back wasn't broken, but it might as well have been because whatever spell Hopkins nailed me with, it sapped my energy and I couldn't draw even the faintest trace of magic to protect myself.

  Suddenly a ghostly blue glow pushed through the darkness and I saw the silhouette of Marla's body approaching. Hopkins' eyes burned through a misty haze of supernatural energy as he extended Marla's arms toward me. Her hands glowed with power. Her eyes narrowed and her lips twisted into a wicked smile. He was going to hit me with a death blow and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. The air crackled and hummed with Hopkins' power as he opened his mouth. He was going to utter a death curse and that would be the end of Julie Richardson. I only hoped Marcus would get out alive.

  "I-I'm sorry, Mom," I sobbed as tears stung my eyes.

  "Now this ends, cursed witch!" Hopkins spat. His magic pulsed like a strobe light, becoming an enormous white ball of energy between Marla's outstretched hands. He drew Marla's arms over her shoulders and sneered.

  He was about to let loose with the final blow when out of the corner of my eye I spotted a flash of movement.

  "Get the hell away from her!" Marcus roared, as he threw himself at Marla's midsection like a linebacker. The force of his tackle sent Marla's body tumbling backwards while the ball of magic dropped onto Marcus like a five-hundred pound bomb.

  "Marcus! No!" I screamed, as the torrent of black magic enveloped his entire body. He writhed in agony as the toxic curse worked its way up to his chest. A pair of ghostly hands reached out from the deathly shadow enveloping his body and hooked tightly around his neck, choking him with the skill of a serial killer.

  And then something inside me snapped.

  My Shadowcull's band lit up with magical energies, fuelling my body with the last reserves of my spirit. I sprung back to my feet as Hopkins readied another salvo of power to throw at me, but it was too little too late. His death curse was killing Marcus by inches with every passing second and the only way to save him was to destroy the spell's power at its source.

  I lashed out at Hopkins, my fury supercharging my magic with emotional magic. I felt a wave of heat rush over my body as the darkness inside the stadium gave way to shimmering waves of colour. Marla shielded her eyes from the dazzling radiance pulsing from my body, then her body shot ten feet into the air as I lashed a binding onto Hopkins' spirit.

  "Release Marcus from your spell or I'll tear your spirit to shreds!" I snarled.

  Even though my binding had seized Hopkins like a bear trap, he remained defiant. "Your kind were a scourge four hundred years ago, hag! I was so good at my task that even now, in death, I do the noble work of not suffering a witch to live!"

  "You're scum, Hopkins!" I spat. "You took my mother from me and now your curse is killing Marcus. Release him now!"

  His defiant glare gave way to a look of confusion. He furrowed Marla's brow until her garish, white makeup cracked like a dried lake bed. "Twice this night you've accused the accuser, hag. I know nothing of your mother!"

  "Release Marcus now and give me back my mother!" I screamed. Hot tears burned my eyes.

  He fired me a menacing glare as I felt the energy from the dark spell that was killing Marcus begin to loosen its grip from around his neck.

  "I said I know nothing of your mother's soul. If this be a trick, hag, remember the fate of your ally is bound to mine. If you destroy my essence, then you will destroy him!"

  There was something about his tone that struck me as being genuine. Sure, I had no reason at all to believe the guy, but he'd just bound Marcus to his own fate and he was quite content to let my best friend die if I kept up the fight. I had every reason to call him a liar, but Hopkins truly seemed to believe that he had nothing to do with what happened to my mother.

  "You attacked me at my school!" I growled. "You ripped my mother's soul from her body and now she's lying in a hospital bed waiting to die!"

  Hopkins face was still awash with confusion, only this time there was a hint of frustration behind the burning embers that were Marla Lavik's eyes.

  "I did no such thing, hag!" he raged. "I know nothing of your mother's soul. The only soul I am interested in this night is that of yours, witch!"

  I didn't know what to do or say. He seemed to resent the insinuation that he'd somehow harmed my mother. Marcus was choking for air from a few feet away and I didn't have time to argue. If Hopkins had nothing to do with what happened to my mother then someone had been playing me. I was about to lash out at Hopkins again when I remembered who sent me to capture Matthew Hopkins' spiritual essence, and it was at that precise moment that I knew I'd been had.

  Holly fucking Penske.

  I threw a panicked glance at Marcus and saw that he wasn't moving. I had to end this now or he'd be as dead as my father. I couldn't destroy Hopkins' essence without harming Marcus, but nobody said I couldn't subdue the old spirit using non-magical means.

  "Betty!" I shouted with ice cold fury. "I need your help now!"

  Hopkins didn't see her coming. One hundred and thirty pounds of Great Dane leaped high into the air and dragged Marla Lavik's Goth-clad frame to the ground. I lowered my magic as Betty started mauling Marla's leather covered arms and I looked over at Marcus to see the death curse dissolve into ectoplasmic slime that drenched his entire body. I reached into my cargo pocket and pulled out my father's copper box and threw it on the ground beside Hopkins as he struggled in vain against Betty's immense strength. I scrawled a small chalk ring around the vessel and glowered at Hopkins. I bound my hatred of the Witchfinder General, my fear of losing my mom and Marcus into a final act of sheer will and lashed out with the rite of exorcism.

  "Spirit!" I screamed with pent up rage. "Be release
d and take form within my ring."

  Hopkins continued to struggle against Betty's crushing grip on his forearm, but to no avail. Marla's body went limp as a vaporous mass drifted out through her eyes and floated into the ring. I sent a small whisper of magic into the chalk circle and it snapped tight like a mousetrap.

  "Speak thy miserable freaking name, spirit!" I growled. The supernatural mass twisted and churned inside the ring in a desperate attempt to resist my will. "Speak it!"

  A disembodied voice called out from beyond. "Matthew Hopkins."

  "Are you the same Matthew Hopkins known as the Witchfinder General of England? The same selfrighteous loser that sent thousands to the gallows after accusing them and trying them for the crime of witchcraft?"

  "I am," the disembodied voice rang out in a mournful, empty tone.

  I exhaled heavily and bellowed in a clear and commanding voice, "Then it falls upon me to send you to your place of my choosing! Spirit of Matthew Hopkins, by my will I command you into yon vessel and blessed be!"