Hexed

by Michael Alan Nelson

  The canvas hung limp in her hand, a heavy, wet thing that flapped in the torrential wind like a sad and hopeless flag. Thankfully, the image wasn’t yet a ruined mess, but Lucifer wasn’t sure how long it could survive. She had chosen Night on 47th primarily because it was painted in acrylics and not watercolors like so many of the other paintings in the gallery had been. So far, it seemed to have been the right choice. But she doubted anything could withstand this storm for very long.

  Lucifer kept low, searching for handholds to pull herself inland. A lull in the waves allowed her to quickly scrape across the rocks, but as she was just about to reach the center of the island, she looked up and felt her heart seize in her chest.

  Standing before her was Minnie Hester, the Witch of Cape Vale.

  The sight took Lucifer’s breath away. The witch was the physical embodiment of voluptuous perfection, a beauty the creature had no doubt purchased along with her dark pact of magic. Though naked, she appeared completely unaffected by the wet and cold. Her alabaster skin glinted in the smothered moonlight, and her black hair flowed with the same slow, unstoppable inertia of the mighty waves that crashed around her. But it was her eyes that terrified Lucifer more than anything.

  They were as dark and empty as night.

  Lucifer slapped the soaked canvas facedown on the rock. She wasn’t looking at the witch, but she could feel her reaching for her, her extended claws dripping with the eternal sea. With every ounce of strength she had, Lucifer shouted into the deafening wind. “Ech rost! Ton d’kallar von rost!”

  The symbols on the back of the painting erupted in a blinding pastel light that shattered the darkness. The light engulfed the island, growing in intensity. Lucifer knew the witch was close, her dreadful hand about to grab her. She wanted to look, to see just where the threat was, but the light was too bright. She couldn’t open her eyes without the searing pain of her pupils squeezing impossibly tight.

  But the hand never came. Lucifer heard the roaring wind calm to nothing and felt the spraying seafoam dissolve into a light, drizzly mist. Lucifer opened her eyes. The light was gone.

  So was the island.

  Lucifer was now standing in the middle of an empty city intersection: 47th Street. The lazy rain pattered against the parked cars that lined the streets in all directions, and the streetlamps glowed with a soft, surreal light. Tall buildings rose all around her with all but a few of their windows dark.

  The witch was there with her, standing calmly across the street. Her hair continued to undulate with the same speed and force of the waves that were no longer there. She was still naked, looking almost comically out of place in the sudden urban setting. Lucifer almost laughed until she realized that she herself was in nothing but her underwear and a bright-orange life vest.

  When the witch spoke, her voice scraped like the chitter of talons clawing across the ocean deep. “What manner of sorcery is this, witchling?”

  Lucifer bristled at the insult. “I call it a skip spell. A temporary little pocket dimension. It won’t last long, but it’s the only way I knew I could talk to you on neutral ground.”

  The witch glided forward, her delicate feet moving with relaxed but deliberate intent. “And why would such a fragile young thing wish to speak with me?”

  “I need answers.”

  “I need flesh,” the witch growled.

  “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

  “No?” The witch smiled, the void of her eyes pulling at Lucifer like the gravity well of black suns. “It’s true, you are a tiny thing without much meat on your bones. But that delicious boy floating at the edge of my island . . . now he would be a meal to savor.” She moved closer, leaving perfect footprints in the watery street behind her. “Perhaps a deal could be made.”

  Lucifer had no idea just how long this little pocket dimension would last, and she didn’t want to waste time bantering with the witch. Fighting the instinct to run away screaming into the imaginary city, she stepped forward and said, “I want to know how to get to Witchdown.”

  The witch stopped. Her smile melted away in the gentle rain, but the black holes of her eyes grew. “Why would any mortal wish to travel to Witchdown?”

  “One of the Seven Sisters has kidnapped a girl. A living girl. I need to get her back.”

  “Kidnapped how?”

  Lucifer shrugged. “A book. She used it to Bloody Mary the girl right through a mirror and into the Shade.”

  The witch stood motionless. “A living girl in the Shade. My, but the Sisters are ambitious.”

  “Yeah, they’re real trailblazers. But how do I get there?”

  The witch let out a wet, diseased cough that took Lucifer a moment to realize was a laugh. “Simple, child. You die.”

  A shiver ran through her, though Lucifer couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the way the witch relished the word. “The girl they took was alive,” Lucifer said. “There has to be a way.”

  “No. Only the dead may travel to the Shade. The Sisters themselves gave their lives to travel to the Shade.”

  “But one of them brought a living girl into the Shade.”

  “Because the Sister is a witch. The Sisters of Witchdown can craft complex sorceries that take lifetimes to perfect, where one wrong incantation or misplaced stroke of a symbol could bring all their magics crumbling around them like a house of cards.” The witch waved a dismissive hand at the city around her. “You tinker with cantrips and sleight of hand like an inept child miming the actions of its parents. All while my sistren and I wield true power, power gifted to us for our loyalty. Our sacrifice. What have you sacrificed to deserve such dominion over life and death?”

  “So that’s it then? The only way to get to the Shade is to become an eyeless, infanticidal sea hag. . . . I’m sorry, I mean a witch, like you?”

  “Yes.” The witch took one step forward. Lucifer could smell the fetid stench of rot and decay bleeding off of her perfect skin. “You play with such trivial spells, girl. But the Sisters’ book holds their secrets. Find it. Follow its path. Then you will know magic as only a woman can.”

  The book. Of course the answer was in the book. There was no way Lucifer would even entertain the idea of becoming a witch, but she wouldn’t have to. If the book held the secret of getting into the Shade, she might be able to cheat her way in. She just needed to find the damn thing.

  “But your time is short,” the witch said.

  “How do you know that?”

  The creature looked up at the fabricated sky and said, “The moon is nearly full. And a witch’s power is always at its greatest when it shines wholly swollen overhead. Whatever intention the Sisters have for this girl, it will come to fruition when the full moon is at its zenith.” The witch extended her arms. “But do not waste your concern on her. Come to me, witchling. Let me guide you on your path to the sisterhood. We will feast upon the floating boy as I show you dark and terrifying wonders.”

  “As much fun as cannibalism sounds, I’m going to pass. I’ve already seen too many dark and terrible wonders as it is. But thanks for pointing me in the right direction.”

  “You reject my offer?” the witch asked, sounding genuinely offended.

  “Of course I reject your offer. What, do you honestly think I’d go to all this trouble to help a girl if I was willing to drown a friend then go play little mermaid with some monstrous cow like you?”

  The witch blanched. “What did you say?”

  Lucifer waved her hands. “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant monstrous sea cow. So I guess that would be manatee then, wouldn’t it. Yes, I think it would. Minnie the monstrous manatee. It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think.”

  The witch’s hair floated in the air around her face, creating a black halo. She smiled and said, “You will know the horrors of the deep in a way no human ever has.”

  “Witch, please. I call this a skip spell because I can skip out of here any time I want. You, on the other hand, not so much.”

  The wet,
coughing laugh returned, only louder, more menacing. “Let me show you just how weak your little spell truly is.”

  The witch didn’t move, but the soft rain grew heavier. Thick drops of water dotted the empty streets. When they fell against the parked cars, they began to run like paint smearing on a canvas.

  Lucifer turned to see the buildings themselves melting. Tiny lines of yellow from the windows swirled inside the thick rivulets of black that oozed along its sides. Heavy wind blew coagulated chunks across the sky in a kaleidoscope of color. Everywhere she looked, the world was dissolving.

  The wind grew stronger, the rain harder. The lampposts wilted and dripped into the dull puddles that had once been cars. The street tilted beneath Lucifer, causing her to stumble to her knees. When the street rose up again, it burst apart in a blast of black seawater and green foam.

  Lucifer was on the rocky island again, the pocket dimension of 47th Street now nothing more than a melted memory. She desperately tried to hold onto the rocks, but wave after wave pounded her. Above the sound of the wind and the roaring waves, even above the witch’s rheumatic laugh, she could hear David screaming her name. Somewhere in the distance. Somewhere a million miles away.

  Lucifer looked up and saw the witch standing on the rocks, her arms wide, as the storm raged around her. The woman’s black eyes bore into her. Lucifer could feel the terrible gaze holding her, lifting her. She was suspended above the rocks, though Lucifer couldn’t tell if it was magic or the rush of water flowing over the island that held her aloft. All she knew was that her limbs were growing numb and useless from the overwhelming cold.

  The witch howled into the storm. It was an impossible screeching, like white noise funneled through a distorted guitar amplifier. Lucifer struggled to reach into her trick bag for something, anything that might be able to help, but it wasn’t there. She had left it in the boat with David. Not that it mattered. Her arms wouldn’t obey. She was too cold, too tired.

  Suddenly, the witch brought her hands together in a thunderous clap that sent a wall of water crashing into Lucifer. She tumbled through foam and fear as she was pushed clear of the island. Dark water danced all around her. Lucifer opened her eyes and winced at the sting of saltwater. The briny liquid filled her mouth when she tried to scream.

  Now that she was submerged, the light on her life vest began to blink, giving Lucifer quick glimpses of dark shapes moving toward her.

  Blink

  She tried to swim to the surface, but up was now an abstract concept.

  Blink

  There was no up, no down, only the sea and the things that were coming to take her.

  Blink

  Scales flashed in the dark, then disappeared.

  Blink

  Tentacles groped for her through the muddy swirl.

  Blink

  Faces with eyes of black glass leered at her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Things brushed past her in the current. The water in the back of her nose burned. Her lungs pleaded for air.

  Blink

  A hand. It reached for her, wrapped itself around her neck and pulled her into the dark.

  CHAPTER 19

  It was David. He pulled Lucifer up out of the water with one hand while using the other to keep himself from falling overboard.

  “Lucifer!”

  The biting wind cut through her like chilled knives slicing at her sodden skin. Lucifer maneuvered one of her arms over the edge of the boat. The rubbery fabric of the dinghy offered enough traction to keep her from falling back into the water, but it also rubbed her armpit raw. David let go of the boat and grabbed her life vest with both hands. He held her for a moment before timing his lift with a large swell to help her inside.

  She plopped to the bottom of the boat like a dead fish and sucked in lungfuls of wet, salty air. Precious, precious air. David hovered over her, screaming her name, though she could hardly hear him over Minnie Hester’s otherworldly screech commanding the raging storm.

  Lucifer coughed, willed her hand into a fist, and gave David a thumbs-up.

  “Oh thank God,” he shouted. He moved to the far side of the dinghy and lifted the anchor out of the water, his sinewy arms straining with each pull of the rope. The dinghy rose and fell in the rolling waves. It tilted to its side and almost capsized before slamming back in the opposite direction. The violent movement twisted Lucifer’s stomach into knots, but she was too cold and too weak to care.

  She heard the outboard motor sputter to life. “Hang on!” David shouted, though the order was pointless. Lucifer didn’t have the strength to hold onto a thought let alone the boat. All she could do now was hope that gravity kept her from being tossed overboard.

  Mercifully, the dinghy began to move toward the shore instead of just the constant up and down caused by the angry swells. Lucifer lay on the bottom of the boat and watched the lightning streak across the inky sky, occasionally interrupted by the foamy spray misting over the dinghy whenever the bow would crash through a wave.

  The frigid wind against her wet skin finally spurred her into action. Lucifer fumbled around until she found the garbage bag with her clothes. The plastic bag had done little to keep her clothes dry, however, and her shoes were missing. Thankfully, her trick bag was still there and all of its contents accounted for.

  Lucifer had fought her way out of the blinking life vest and into her clothes by the time David had steered the dinghy past the breakwater and into the calmer waters of the marina. The wind had died down to a lazy breeze, and the rain was now only a mild drizzle. Still, Lucifer felt as if she were stranded in the Arctic. She shivered uncontrollably, and her teeth chattered so hard that she worried they would break.

  “Lucifer?”

  She turned to David and tried to give him another thumbs-up, but her fingers were too numb to obey. “I-I-I-I-I’m f-f-f-fin-n-n-ne, David-d-d-d.” Lucifer did her best to smile, but her chattering teeth made her feel like one of those ridiculous wind-up toys.

  David’s concerned expression melted into one of worry. “You’re freezing!”

  “J-j-j-ust g-g-get me to the c-c-c-car.”

  David steered the dingy back to the pier. Before they had even stopped, he hopped onto the pier and lashed the boat secure. It took Lucifer a full minute just to get her trick bag over her shoulder. What limbs still had feeling in them were stiff and only moved with the greatest concentration.

  David saw her struggling and reached into the boat and pulled her onto the pier with one powerful movement. He put his arm around her shoulders to help steady her. “Where are your shoes?” he asked.

  Lucifer couldn’t feel the warped, wet wood beneath her bare feet. “G-g-gone.”

  Without a word, David scooped her into his arms and half marched, half ran his way back to the car. She vaguely remembered David putting her in the passenger seat before they were on the road with the heat blasting.

  “I can honestly say, with absolutely no sense of shame or embarrassment, I have never been that scared before in my entire life.” David was shaking himself, though probably from adrenaline and not from cold. “I mean, holy crap, Lucifer! She was real! That witch was real! I know you already showed me magic and all, but part of me still thought . . .” He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “At first I was worried you were going to drown or be eaten by sharks or something. But when she appeared on that little island, I swear, Lucifer, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.” He chuckled. It was a quiet burst of nervous energy tinged with relief. He looked over at Lucifer in the passenger seat and asked, “Did she tell you what you wanted to know?”

  “The b-b-book. I have to find the b-b-b-ook-k-k-k.” Lucifer’s teeth chattered like machine gun fire.

  “Lucifer, are you all right?” he asked.

  She shook her head. No matter how much hot air the vents were blowing over her, the cold wasn’t leaving.

  “Your lips are blue,” David said. “I’m taking you to a hospital.”

&nbs
p; “N-n-n-nothing they c-c-can d-d-do.” Lucifer said. “It’s m-m-m-magic.” She could feel the spell’s tendrils pulling at her. A consequence of getting too close to a witch who made her home at the bottom of the sea.

  David gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. “Magic? Oh, Jesus. What do I do, Lucifer? Tell me what to do.”

  “It’ll p-p-p-pass.”

  “It’ll pass? Before or after you die from hypothermia?”

  Lucifer didn’t respond.

  David said, “Okay, we just need to keep you warm until the magic wears off, right?”

  Lucifer managed a nod.

  “Right,” he said, pressing his foot down hard on the accelerator. In a few minutes, David pulled the car off the highway and toward a rest area where dozens of semitrucks huddled together against the night. David parked his car in an isolated corner of the lot. He stepped out of the car but left it running with the heat on high.

  While David rummaged through the trunk of the car, Lucifer concentrated on the hot air blowing over her. No matter how warm the air was, it couldn’t get through her skin. The witch’s magic had left it as heat resistant as the underside of a space shuttle. Nothing was getting through.

  David got back into the driver’s seat with a blanket in one hand and a duffel bag in the other. “Take your clothes off,” he said.

  Lucifer wanted to retort, make some kind of sarcastic remark, but she was shivering too much to think. But David must have seen a questioning look on her face because he said, “Magic or not, you’re never going to get warm in those wet clothes.” He unzipped the duffel bag and pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants, T-shirt, and his letterman’s jacket. “My gym clothes. Don’t worry, they’re clean.” He sniffed a rolled-up pair of white tube socks. “Ish.”

  Lucifer managed a chuckle. David helped her undress and fumble into his gym clothes. He did a rather masterful job of looking away and affording Lucifer some modesty. The shirt was the same gray as the sweat pants, but with his school’s orange and blue mascot, the Spartans, emblazoned across the front. The clothes were way too big and not even remotely clean. But Lucifer didn’t care.