by D C Young
Erika sat back down heavily and picked up the glass in front of her. Politics was not a game she liked to play but she was well aware of the negative impact even the smallest show of weakness could have on her leadership. Jade took one look at her sister’s face and knew it was her cue to take some action. She stood up to address the room.
“At this point, I think everyone is now well informed and it would be best we take another vote. Those in favor of launching an offensive attack on Yemaya before she gets to the Caribbean please vote by show of hands?”
One by one the faction leaders showed their support for Erika’s proposed plan. They would travel to the leeward island of Barbados and from the isolated cliffs off Ragged Point, they would capture Yemaya before she could cause any havoc on the islands of the Caribbean or their beloved New Orleans.
Chapter Sixteen
The Storm Approaches
All men can see these tactics whereby I conquer, but what none can see is the strategy out of which victory is evolved.
—Sun Tzu
New Orleans, Louisiana.
Two days later, Sam and her family took a cab to the Louis Armstrong New Orleans airport. They checked in for their flights and made their way to the departure lounge. When the call came for the flight to Los Angeles, Sam made sure Tammy and Anthony had all their belongings, hugged them tightly and told them to listen to their Aunt MJ and Uncle Rick. She hugged Mary Lou and Rick in turn, and then squeezed their kids in a huge huddle.
It was hard for her to watch them walk down the finger dock towards their plane, but Sam knew it was the best way to ensure their safety. She was about to catch a flight to Barbados where the entire Louisiana Council, Bridget Bishop and Julia Agrippina would be joining forces to capture Yemaya. Ironically, in a bottle.
***
“We’re more than just muscle you know!” Enzo shouted across the table.
“No one is implying that the werewolves are only good for protection, all I’m saying is that in this particular instance protection is going to be your key role. Unless one of you is a shaman and forgot to mention that.”
“Okay, Erika. I apologize, please continue.”
“This enemy is a magical one, so we will be leaning heavily on our magical resources,” Erika explained. “The spells have been carefully written and the covens have been practicing tirelessly.”
“Are you sure the bottle will work,” Julia Agrippina asked skeptically. Bridget had failed in her efforts to properly explain the concept to her.
“Yes, I believe it will. The idea is to attack her in her elemental form. When she presents herself as the hurricane we expect, she will not have all her wits about her. The bottle has been designed to look exactly as we will look on the yacht at sea; it is a perfect replica. The plan is to confuse her, bind her with our spells and compel her to chase us but she will be chasing the illusion of us right into the bottle.”
“I think the plan makes as much sense to a muggle as it possibly could,” Sam said referencing the terminology used in the Harry Potter stories.
“The vampires will serve as a power source for the witching circle and the werewolves will drive the boat and ensure overall safety while we are casting. Understood?”
“Understood,” everyone replied unanimously.
***
Bridgetown, Barbados.
As she rode to the boat dock in the taxi cab, the conversation replayed over and over in Sam’s head. She hoped desperately that she really had understood what they would be doing and more so, what they were up against.
When she arrived at the Barbados yacht club, Enzo was standing at the top of the pier waiting to give everyone directions to the yacht.
“How’s it going Enzo?” Sam asked.
“As well as can be expected. Just waiting for Giselle Claire to arrive and then we’ll be off.”
“Where will we be confronting Yemaya?”
“About four miles east of Ragged Point and it’s quite a boat ride to that side of the island. The winds are already picking up, she definitely approaching land but not very quickly at all. The weather service has the system categorized as a depression presently.”
“Sounds good,” Sam replied as a car pulled up at the dock.
“That’s Giselle now.”
“Awesome, let’s get this show on the road!”
***
“Alright, casters! We have to get our spell timed perfectly with the beam from the lighthouse. The light will blind her while the spell disorients her,” Erika said. Her back was to the sea as she kept her eye on the rotating turret of the lighthouse on top of Ragged Point. “Here we go. On my count of three… one… two… three!”
As the beam hit the five mile high mass of stormy, rotating clouds in front of them, the circle of witches began their chant. The spell was powerful and Sam could feel the waters around the bobbing boat churn as if the sea was boiling. Enzo stood back to back with Erika, facing the sea. He was giving her a commentary of what was going on in the storm.
The recital of the binding spell began and Erika braced herself harder against Enzo. He gripped the bottle with the model yacht inside it and raised it up over his head while Julia placed her hands onto Bridget’s shoulders. Sam took her place on the outside of the witch’s circle, putting her right hand over Giselle’s and Jade’s clasped ones and her left over Jade’s and Vivianne Laveau’s.
Suddenly, the boat felt as if it were getting lower in the water. Sam looked out over the water to see what was happening. The storm seemed to be getting darker and more concentrated around a point but that wasn’t what made Sam’s mouth drop open.
Behind the funnel of the approaching storm, a huge wave of water was growing. It was already half the size of the cloud system in front of it and growing taller with each second that passed. It reminded Sam of the footage she had seen of tsunamis.
“Don’t be alarmed,” Erika shouted to the others around her. “This is exactly what I’d hoped for! Our spells are working.”
Sam wanted to be relieved by the Guardian’s words but somehow scenes from the movie, ‘The Perfect Storm’, wouldn’t leave her mind. The wave continued to grow intimidatingly high. The chanting of the witches grew frenzied and words began to merge into a loud hypnotic mumble. Suddenly, there was an ear splitting clap of thunder. Sam looked out to sea again and what she saw nearly blew her mind.
The wave had removed itself completely from the ocean and was levitating about a half mile in the air in a perfect ball of water. The storm in front of it raged on; Yemaya, the being inside of it, was still dazzled by the beacon of the lighthouse and bound by the spell the witches were casting. So spellbound in fact, that Yemaya was completely unaware she had been trapped until the ball of seawater engulfed the clouds and began to crush the storm within its circumference. The witches turned their gaze to the water and watched as the ball turned over and over on itself shrinking with each turn until it was the size of a baseball.
Erika held both her hands out and the small sphere made its way towards the boat. A few moments later, it was pushing its way into Enzo’s raised bottle. He pushed the cork in instantly and the witches set about casting the spells which would keep the bottle from ever breaking and sealed shut for an eternity.
Epilogue
Home Sweet Home
Fullerton, California. Two days later.
Sam was grateful to finally be home with her family again. Mary Lou had brought Tammy and Anthony home the morning after Sam arrived back from Barbados. The night alone had been appreciated but she missed her children desperately.
That afternoon, while they were at a friend’s birthday, Sam took to her desk to go through the mail. There were the usuals which she pushed aside to look at last; the water bill, electric, US Weekly magazine and Tammy’s InStyle but soon enough a few interesting envelopes popped up.
She read through the thank you notes and soon was overcome with emotion and even though she had come close to it several times during the
whole encounter with the Louisiana witches but never did, Sam cried. And her tears were happy ones.
A pleasant surprise had been a postcard from Savannah. It was a picture of the Roman Archway tomb at Bonaventure Cemetery; the locals called it ‘The Gateway to Heaven’. It was from Dani and it read, ‘I hope your vacation was one to remember. I hope to see you again in Savannah.’
Boy, would she like to know, Sam thought with a smile.
Finally, she came down to a pretty mint green envelope. The return address only read: Hilton Head Island, S.C. but that was all Sam needed to know who had sent it.
Rennie Telfair had easily been the most interesting person Sam had met on her whole adventure, probably because he promised to be an excellent new contact and resource for her in the L.A. area.
Dear Miss Moon,
I cannot begin to say how much of a pleasure it has been to have met you and to give what insight I could into yours and Mr. Fulcrum’s cases.
I’ve had news that the crisis in New Orleans was expertly diverted and that your help in the matter was an overall blessing. I am particularly pleased that you have formed a connection with the Louisiana factions; everyone there speaks so highly of you and the Western Elders. It says much about our California community.
As for Mr. Collins, his spirit has left Seagull Point. It seems that his satisfaction with the outcome of both Mr. Ambrose’s trial and the capture of Yemaya has put his soul at rest. Should that change I will be sure to alert you, of course.
I implore you, Samantha, please don’t hesitate in the future to contact me should you ever need my help.
I am now and forever your friend,
Rennie Telfair.
Samantha smiled and sighed as she folded the paper and put it back in the mint green envelope. Though quaint and a little stringent in his behavior, the man had struck a chord with Sam and she felt she had with him as well. They had become fast friends and allies.
The End
The Chronicles of the Immortal Council returns in:
Vampire Vacation
by D.C. Young
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Fang
Chronicles of the American Vampire
by H.T. Night
(read on for a sample)
Chapter One
I hadn’t lived long enough to be cynical. But I had lived long enough to know the only person who gives a shit about you is yourself. So, I guess I was cynical.
I looked out my cell door window and saw them drag in another one. This time, he was gagged and swaddled up in a straitjacket like a psychotic nightmare. There were yammerings of a crazed individual—conspiratorial in nature to that of an insane mind.
“You sons of bitches ate my corn dogs!” he yelled at the men who dragged him by his restrained arms.
“There’ll be plenty of corn dogs to be had during your stay,” replied Don, Fulton State Hospital’s largest security guard. Don looked as if he had just stepped off the WWE tour bus with his long, blonde ponytail, villainously-trimmed goatee, and shoulders that looked as if they could stop bullets in their tracks.
“Will the corn dogs protect me from the witches?”
“Yeah, sure, why not? The corn dogs here are kryptonite to witches. What do you think, Terry?”
Terry, the other security guard, was older and smaller, but looked as if he had been a spry linebacker in his youth.
“Yeah, just the other day I saw a corn dog jam itself into a witch’s nose and suffocate her to death.”
Terry nodded with a smirk and then opened the cell door across from mine. It was a holding pen of sorts. A bench, a toilet, and not much else. Not even a goddamn book to keep anyone from losing his mind even further. But this was to be expected in the maximum-security wing of the hospital where they kept the worst of the worst… including me, apparently.
I didn’t belong here. Being bombarded with every type of mental illness imaginable made me long for the comforts of a normal prison population—even though I’d never stepped inside a normal prison before. I wasn’t crazy, and if I was and didn’t know it, I sure as hell wasn’t as demented as the hogtied fellow in front of me who was still rambling on about corn dogs and witches.
“The witches... are bad, man. I need some corn dog sticks,” he continued. “Let me sharpen some. I already cut one of them witches.”
Don released his grip on the man’s arm and watched Terry escort him into his cell.
“That lady was no witch, she was your landlady,” Don said.
“That’s her front, man! She has a cauldron in her bathroom. I seen it with my own eyes.”
“It’s a bathtub.” Don rolled his eyes. Terry shook his head and stifled a snicker.
Blood droplets that had soaked through the ends of the man’s sleeves, and minor scratches on Don’s bulky forearm, told me why the ‘corn dog man’ had to be restrained. Terry inspected the buckles binding the patient, making sure he couldn’t loosen the straitjacket. He secured the belts behind the man’s back, and closed the door before heading off with his hulking partner.
The clamor ceased soon after the latch thunked closed and locked the thick and impenetrable cell door. I continued staring through the small window, trying to make eye contact with the new resident. The top of his head bobbed in and out of sight as he paced the small room like a caged animal.
I figured if he would make eye contact with me, perhaps he’d dial down the crazy a bit. The place was lonely, and I needed to talk, or at least make eye contact with someone who didn’t think I was a monster.
Waiting for him to quit pacing, I noticed a smell that needed addressing. The faint stench of bleach permeated the room and the hallway outside. Yes, this was a hospital, but I had yet to see an actual cleaning crew mopping the halls and making sure it remained sterile in the few days I’d been here.
Perhaps the smell was there to keep our minds off things, obsessive things, like corn dogs, and in my case, the sweet, sweet taste of blood. I compulsively indulged in my desires and became a slave to the sanguine and scarlet liquid. Yet, my vampirism came without the benefits of immortality, flight, or shape-shifting.
I had unforgivably screwed up the other night. I’d never imagined myself a murderer or someone capable of hurting someone. But I had.
A part of me would always feel remorse for stopping a beating heart, but the events that night helped me come to terms with what I eventually could become.
There was a reason God gave me these teeth—unless he had some kind of morbid sense of humor. I would hate to think the Almighty took pleasure in seeing me suffer on Earth. I thought of the way people covered their mouths as they whispered to their friends while throwing judgmental glances my way, as if I were some loser playing Halloween on a Wednesday in January.
Nah. On second thought, I doubted the Creator was playing a cruel joke on me. After all, He’d blessed my taste buds, too. I was manufactured to ‘seek neck and suck.’ Annie, who I cared for and who cared for me, paid the ultimate price so I could recognize who or what I am.
The crazy guy finally stopped pacing in circles and gave me a blank stare through the small glass window. I smiled and I believe he caught a glimpse of my teeth. He immediately frowned and his emotionless eyes pooled with tears. He began pounding his head furiously against the window.
I didn’t mean to frighten him. Nor did I want him to crush his skull against the window. Blood smear
ed against the glass, while I yelled through my door slot for help.
Don and Terry sprinted down the hallway to the man’s cell. As soon as Don unlatched the key ring from his belt, the man disappeared from view. They opened his cell room door, revealing the man lying on the floor, twitching from a seizure. Don radioed for help while Terry turned to me with a worried look in his puffy eyes.
“What the fuck just happened?” he asked me.
“I have no idea… I just wanted to say hello. I sure as hell didn’t ask him to eat his tongue for breakfast.”
Don crouched next to the man. He reached into his pocket for a mouth guard, but before he could insert it into the man’s mouth, blood sprayed out from the man’s lips like a geyser.
“He just sliced his tongue in half!” Don sprang up and away from the crimson spray.
Three blue-gloved members of the emergency medical staff, wearing face shields and smocks, rushed in to try to stabilize the inmate. Don and Terry made room for them as they stepped out of the cell and into the hallway. I noticed small specks of blood spray on Don’s left cheek and nose.
