Submerging Inferno

by Brandon Witt

  How easy could it be to hide a whole square block devoted to supernaturals? It should stand out like a beacon. If nothing else, the magical vibe—yes, Mom, I said it, magical—should be detectable to other supernaturals. The thought made me stop in my tracks and glance around, this time to see if anyone noticed how stupid I had been. Of course there would be a vibe I could detect, magical or otherwise.

  What kind of warlock was I, anyway? Caitlin’s voice rang in my mind, answering that question for me.

  I wasn’t exactly sure what I needed to do. Most things that my mother refused to call magic came as naturally as breathing. I didn’t need to think about them; they just happened. This was different.

  I walked over to a large tree at the edge of someone’s yard and leaned my back against the thick bark. I slid down until I was resting on the ground, legs crossed under me, my hands spread wide and flat in the grass. I closed my eyes and focused on feeling the core of my being in my chest. Letting the connection to the earth build in my consciousness, I felt it grow heavy. Gradually, I let it flow from me and seep into the ground, feeling it shoot out and around, a thin disc coursing in waves ever wider. It made me feel both small and connected at the same time. I could feel the energies from the people living in the houses around me, the life force of the animals as they scampered across the ground or from tree to tree. Here and there, small sharp peaks shot through me as my core came into contact with a soul that was unusually pure or dark—very few who weren’t human, and nothing that would suggest anything out of the norm.

  It could have been mere moments, or it might have been hours. I was only aware of the ever-expanding circle of lives coming into contact with mine.

  When I finally connected to The Square, it was as if something had sucked all the air from my lungs and begun contracting my rib cage and skull. Intense heat surrounded me, steam gushing over me. I pulled back, trying to withdraw into the relative safety of my body. Instead, my throat began to constrict, and my eyes burned.

  The pressure continued to build and build. Each moment now seemed an eternity, each increasing the pain to a new level of agony. It was as if there were claws digging into me and pulling me ever deeper into darkness.

  With all the strength I could muster, I let out a yell and jerked backward, trying to force distance between myself and whatever it was that had hold of me. With the sound of snapping and a loud scream, I contracted back into my body with a force that slammed me into the trunk of the tree, my head smashing with such force that my vision was stolen from me.

  Slumping to the ground, I lay there, forcing myself to drag in ragged breath after ragged breath. Every part of me hurt. I felt scorched, like my skin was blackened and cracking.

  A few moments later, still trying to breathe, I forced my eyes open. Blinking them rapidly, trying to wipe away the blurriness, I inspected my arms. They seemed fine. Despite the feeling, they looked healthy—maybe more flushed than normal, but definitely not burned.

  When I was convinced that I was indeed alive and not charcoaled, I sat up. The sudden motion caused me to gasp in pain and once again lose my breath. Probing my side gingerly with my fingers, I discovered the snapping sound must have been a couple of my ribs breaking. I lifted up my shirt and saw the left side of my body was already turning a dark shade of purple.

  Slumping back against the tree, I let my eyes close as I attempted to breathe normally and get my racing heart under control.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what had transpired. I’d never experienced anything of the like. Something had a hold of me. Not just the part of my psyche I had sent out searching, but me, my body, my mind. I also wasn’t sure how I got free of whatever it had been. I’d been too panicked to cast a spell or a curse. It had been a gut reaction, fight or flight—and it was most definitely flight.

  The burning in my eyes was slowly dissipating, and with it, things gradually began to come into focus. It seemed like there should be people around me. Surely someone in the houses had heard me screaming. Had it all been in my head? Glancing around, nothing had changed, not even the grass. I expected it to be charred and burned away, but it was as lush and green as when I’d sat down.

  Maybe it hadn’t been an actual presence, nothing alive. It might just be an alarm system of sorts, a type of curse meant to protect the location of The Square. But even so, why would they need protection? I knew exactly where it was now. There was no way I’d ever have trouble finding it again. Its location would be burned into me for the rest of my life.

  The thought sent a shudder through me. If it had been an actual entity, could it now find me as easily as I could find it? That possibility made getting away from where I was take on the utmost importance. I shoved off the ground but only made it to a half-slouched position before my breath caught and the pain sent me crashing back into the tree. I yelped. Somehow, I’d managed to forget about my ribs.

  Groaning, I moved my fingers over my ribs, gingerly exploring each one. Cynthia was much better at healing than I, but I could make do until I got back to the house.

  Laying my right hand flat on the ground once again, I focused on the energy in the earth and splayed my left hand across my ribs. Closing my eyes, I went inside my body and traveled to the ribs. I focused first on the swelling and sent the fluid to be reabsorbed, then zoned in on the broken ribs and encouraged the splintered fragments to grow together and solidify.

  When the majority of the pain had subsided and things seemed mostly back to normal, I withdrew from the wounds. I knew they were weakly mended and would easily crack again, but it should be enough to help me function until Cynthia could do her thing.

  Chapter 16

  SURE enough, it was easy to find The Square. Too easy. It could be an advantage if the internal homing device only worked one way, but that didn’t seem too likely. If whatever it had been was intending to protect The Square, the last thing it would do would be to make it where I was more aware of it while it had no knowledge of me. However, why hadn’t it struck out at me yet? Vampires were bad enough, but the thought of having something unnamed possibly stalking me made me even more nervous. My uneasy feeling continued to grow. I had probably set out on a fool’s errand. One that didn’t even have a defined destination. Hunting for a specific vampire during the day, entering a known demonic area—anyone with half a brain would have turned around and gone home. But what was I going to do there—watch Brett suffer whatever dreams were tormenting him and wait for the next time the vampire chose to attack? At the very least, this gave me the illusion of doing something to help Brett.

  The neighborhood continued to get worse and worse as I neared The Square, each block growing more worn down and drab—the darkness seeping out like a fungus.

  There was no physical indication that I had entered The Square. No neon-pink sign like at Hillcrest. No warnings or caution tape. One minute I was in a nondescript, broken-down residential neighborhood on Forest Street, and the next, as I crossed Imperial, I was in the southwest corner of The Square—the tumult of vile energy announcing the vortex of evil.

  After my experience under the tree with the entity, I was expecting to have a horde of demons fall upon me and rip me to shreds. Nothing happened. Nothing so much as even an electric shock or an unusually strong gust of wind. Feeling a fool, I cracked open my eyes to glance around me, realizing that, in anticipation of an onslaught, I’d squeezed them shut—not summoning surrounding energy to help me fight back, not casting out my senses to determine what was coming my way. Nope, just closing my eyes and cringing. Warlock my ass.

  Maybe I had been in sensory overload on my first visit, or maybe it was because it had been at night, but The Square wasn’t as ominous in appearance as I remembered. True, compared to the neighborhoods on the outskirts, it was even more rundown and sinister looking, but it was better than what I’d expected. There was still an abundance of empty storefronts, but a bookstore, restaurant, and a couple of stores were dispersed among the bars.

 
; While the marble courthouse in the middle of The Square was larger and more imposing than I remembered, I wasn’t all that surprised it didn’t stick out in my memory. There was nothing overly memorable about it. The only adornments the building could boast were a carved lion’s head in the center of the overhang, etched words that scrolled around the top of the marble wall, and massive, crumbling columns spaced about every ten feet or so. Even the small sweep of steps leading down from the entrance was in disrepair—stray weeds and struggling saplings shoving through the cracks here and there. The few windows that weren’t covered in cardboard from the inside were cracked or gone altogether. A small forest of trees surrounded most of the massive courthouse, obscuring it from view.

  A movement from behind the courthouse drew my attention. A tall, thin man—at least, it moved like a man—exited a bar in the far northeast corner. Stumbling, he turned to his right and moved out of sight, the courthouse blocking my view. I waited for him to reappear on the other side, but after several more moments, I assumed he had entered another one of the bars.

  Other than the oddly skeletal man, there were no other living people to be seen. Part of me would have felt less exposed if there had been a crowd of people to blend in with, but at least this way, I’d see whoever might decide to come my direction.

  Unsure of what to do now that I had arrived, I continued walking down Forest Street, glancing around at all the buildings in The Square. Either painted above the doorway or on signs hanging from the tattered awnings, each store had a simple name. The first I came to was empty, but the following said BOOKS, and the next BAR. Peering in both of the windows of the bookstore, I couldn’t see anyone moving around, but could see row upon row of bookshelves in the shrouded room. BAR’s windows were painted over in black. The lot that followed was empty and charred. Whatever establishment had been there had not been rebuilt after it had burned down. The store flanking the scorched lot read PORN. These windows were filled from floor to ceiling with large screens, each showing scenes that had never before come into my imagination—many of which I was sure were illegal. The last store on the block, before The Square wrapped around onto Nogal Street, was another empty building, its storefront windows gone entirely.

  Having walked the one block allowed me to scope out all corners of The Square. I counted six stores that were labeled BAR—no other differentiation than that. Besides the BOOKS and PORN, there was also RESTAURANT, DANCE, HEAD SHOP, and GIFTS. The idea of a gift shop in The Square caused me to laugh out loud rather abruptly. The sound of my voice startled me. This time, I began to gather energy around me as I prepared for who, or what, I might have just alerted to my presence.

  Still no one moved. I was by myself.

  Maybe I’d assumed once I got here the answer would pop out—the next move obvious. However, I was more confused than ever. I’d spent so much of the afternoon searching, there wasn’t all that much time left until sunset. So much for finding the lair of the vampire during the day. Still, there had to be something here. Something.

  Maybe this was how it should be. Maybe I needed to be here after sunset. Hell, maybe the vamp would show. It could be my lucky night. Not sure if that would really count as luck or not.

  I shoved my hand into the right pocket of my jeans and pulled out my cell phone to call Cynthia. She’d be worried that she hadn’t heard from me yet, and would get even more so when I told her I wouldn’t return as soon as I’d anticipated. Running my finger across the screen, the option menu lit up, telling me it was later than I’d originally thought. Holding my finger over Cynthia’s face on my contact page, I waited for it to dial.

  Nothing.

  I held the phone to my ear. Silence.

  Another glance at the home screen informed me that I had no service. I let out a sigh. Imagine that. No service in a place of evil. Who’d have thought?

  At the moment, I was rather irritated with my parents. Even though they wanted to protect all of us from the darker side of our society and from the more dangerous species, it might have been advantageous for them to have at least taught us what we needed to know in order to defend ourselves against whatever might come our way. I was beginning to feel like Pollyanna being dropped off at the beginning of a horror movie, with no other tools but her ability to play the “Glad Game.”

  After taking another few glances around, trying to get some type of sign, I finally decided to go to the store marked GIFTS, partly because I couldn’t imagine what they would sell and partly because it seemed the least daunting.

  Still not encountering anyone as I made my way down Nogal Street, and after passing two of the other bars, I took a steadying breath and pushed the door open. A chime sounded, the same as at Dad’s store. What had I expected? The calling of ravens or women screaming?

  Pausing for a few moments, I held the door open, waiting to see what would come out to greet me. When no one came, I let the door swing shut on its own.

  Honestly, the store wasn’t anything like I’d expected. It was clean, well lit, and much more organized and feng shui than Dad’s. Items were displayed on bamboo shelves and cabinets along the walls. A glass counter made a large square in the center of the store—merchandise exhibited within and a cash register on top. A large fish tank seemed to be taking up most of the expanse of the rear wall.

  Stepping further into the store, I walked over to the glass counter. Glancing through, there didn’t seem to be much different here than at a lot of the tacky gift stores at the mall. Most of the case was taken up with resin statues and figurines. The ones in front ranged from unicorns and fairies to ornate dragons and knights on black horses. I bent to inspect a glittering black unicorn. The memory of Caitlin’s mocking voice caused me to redirect my attention. My unicorn fascination was far more shameful than her fetish for mutilating monster figurines, or at least that was her assertion.

  As I walked around the case, the figurines took a darker turn. Devils, monsters, and scenes of people being tortured replaced the lighter and more fanciful. I bent once again to inspect. This was much more up Caitlin’s alley.

  “Can I help you find something, dear?” The scratchy voice above me caused me to shoot up from my crouched position beside the case.

  Turning, I saw a short, thin woman. Her mouth settled into a hard line. I must have been gawking at her without realizing it. “There’s no reason to be rude, boy.” Her hands subconsciously smoothed out the top part of her skirt.

  “Oh no. I’m sorry.” I tried to quit staring, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her as I spoke. “I just wasn’t expecting….”

  “What?” Her voice became a short staccato, even raspier than before. “A witch?”

  I continued to stare at her, all the time trying to focus on something else in the room, but every time my eyes attempted to look elsewhere, they were drawn instantly back to her. She wore a full-length black dress with black lace poking out in ruffles from the hem of her long sleeves and skirt. On top of her head was one of the tallest, most tattered and pointed “witch hats” I had ever seen, long stringy gray hair hanging limply underneath. She’d applied an obviously fake wart to the side of her left nostril and held a ratty wooden broom in her hand.

  She leaned closer to me, her hand shooting out to close over mine where it was gripping the counter. “Don’t let the outfit mislead you, warlock. You try anything funny in my store, I swear I’ll make it where you can’t….” She let out a gasp as her black-contact eyes met mine for the first time. “Oh, I’m sorry.” While still gravelly, her voice took on a less menacing tone. She let go of my hand and took a step back.

  Unclear what had caused her sudden change of attitude, I waited—not sure if she expected me to do something or if she was getting ready to make an offensive move.

  When she continued to simply stand there, her eyes downcast, I addressed her cautiously. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to offend you. I wasn’t expecting a witch to dress so, well, so much like a witch, I guess.”

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nbsp; She lifted her eyes from the floor but still refused to meet my gaze. “It’s just part of being here in The Square. The humans expect it.” I could hear the distaste in her voice.

  Looking past her ridiculous costume, which most witches would refuse to wear on principle, it was easy to see the older woman wasn’t any more like the witch from storybooks than my mother was. I was even willing to bet the gray hair hanging around her face was sewn into the hat, hiding her real hair underneath.

  I almost asked her why her attitude had changed with me, but then decided I’d better not press my luck. It would be more helpful to simply get her on my side somehow. “Well, I’m sorry that you have a boss who requires you to wear that. Although I guess it’s the same as having to wear a crazy getup for fast-food restaurants and those pretzel places with the bad hats.”

  For a split second, I could see the anger shoot through her once more, but she quickly stuffed it back down and gritted her teeth. “I own this store.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” I glanced around, trying to find some other topic, something that might make it easier to lead into a conversation that could offer some details about Brett or the vampire. Drawing a blank, I turned back to her. “Do you mind if I look around?”

  She opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by the chiming of the front door.

  I turned around to see who had entered. It was a human couple. A goth girl, probably in her late teens or early twenties, with her computer-geek boyfriend, who looked ready to turn around and flee as he caught sight of the “real-life witch” talking to me. The girl, on the other hand, let out an elated squeal and rushed toward a section of vampire paraphernalia—books about vampires, blood-scented candles, fake teeth—dragging her hyperalert boyfriend along with her.