Deathspell

by Peter Dawes

  He cast a quick glance at me and I fought to bite my tongue. If Jeffrey was apt to offer hospitality, I figured I should not be the one to cast aspersions. When I failed to issue a cheeky retort, Jeffrey turned his back to Paolo and me. “Come inside,” he coaxed. “Have a bite to eat. We’ll save discussion for the morning, Christian.”

  “For the morning,” I repeated, so as not to be completely rendered mute. Paolo and I exchanged a look while Jeffrey disappeared inside the house with Ida. Nodding toward where they entered, I reached to pat my friend’s shoulder and garnered a sigh from him, the exasperation latent in it bearing affection despite itself. He motioned forward and I followed in his wake, shutting the door behind us and removing my cloak without further prompting from my brother.

  Paolo mimicked the gesture, and together, we sat and accepted bowls of water to clean our face and hands before being offered what remained of their supper. After Jeffrey’s wife took away the soiled plates, Ida bounded to us and yanked me by the hand. “Papa says I need to show you to your room while he tucks Ivette into bed,” she said, adding another tug for emphasis.

  I laughed and exchanged a smile with Paolo. “By all means, little bird. Lead the way,” I said.

  My niece nodded, solemn in her duties and silent until I opened the door to where we’d be sleeping. The satchel I deposited by the main entryway had found its way inside. I reached to pluck it from where it rested while Paolo bent and kissed Ida’s hand, causing her to giggle. She bounded off and Paolo shut the door after watching her depart. I couldn’t help but to smile. “She and her sister both are treasures,” I quipped, setting the bag onto the bed long enough to ensure its contents intact before lowering it back onto the floor.

  “I had nieces,” Paolo said. “Nephews, too, but that was a long time ago.” He sat in the sole chair in the room and reached to remove his boots while studying his modest surroundings. Apart from a bed and the chair, there wasn’t much else besides four walls, a window, and a crude table poised in the corner of the room. Together, it formed a luxury most men of Jeffrey’s station didn’t enjoy – a makeshift room for guests.

  I stole a glance around as well before peering back at Paolo, a small smile dancing across my lips. “This is where I slept for two years before running off to kill people.”

  Paolo snorted. “Your brother keeps it for you?”

  “He harbors blind hope I might someday retire from this unsavory life and become like him.”

  We exchanged a smirk and a raised eyebrow, the joke not even needing to be stated to be understood. Paolo rose to his feet and padded to the bed, depositing his weight on top until he was settled supine atop it. I closed the distance and looked down at him with my brow yet upturned.

  He looked up at me and grinned. “Your brother said you get the floor,” he explained, lifting a hand to gesture with it. “Hospitality, si?”

  “You are a scoundrel, Signor Bellini,” I said lowering onto the floor and spreading out there. Paolo reached for me and I took hold of his fingers, compelled to bring the back of his palm to my lips. Something about clutching onto him made me yearn to curl into his arms, fatigue nipping hungrily and compelling me to relent. Our fingers remained intertwined until I heard the faint sound of him snoring, knowing he had succumbed and apt to do the same.

  The sight of my satchel forced my tired eyes open, however, the whispers sprinting even faster than the compulsion for sleep and overtaking me first. Reaching for the shoulder strap, I pulled the bag closer and tipped it onto its side so I could open it. The sight of the spell book’s spine compelled me to pull it out, and as I flipped to the middle, an English phrase caught my attention, causing my blood to run cold.

  ‘The flame of the eternal shall not be extinguished.’

  Lawrence’s dying words echoed as an unpleasant reminder both of our encounter and my current predicament. Shutting it on impulse, I shoved it under the scant amount of room available under the bed and settled back into place. Moonlight from the windows danced across the wall and the rhythmic sound of Paolo lulled me back into a relaxed state, until my lids descended at last.

  My dreams that night would be unencumbered. I could not help but to wonder, though, if they would remain as such for long.

  Chapter Seven

  I stole a kiss from him when he woke, hesitant to do much else where my brother could find us. As Paolo tended to his horse, I watched in silence, my mind too crowded to settle on any one thought long enough to indulge it. My heart turned heavy when he finished feeding and watering Diavolo and adjusted the gelding’s saddle again. I almost said the words, ‘Please, don’t go,’ but choked them back with what little will I could muster.

  “Be safe,” I said, instead, walking closer when Paolo settled himself on the saddle and gripped harder onto the reins. One hand settled onto his horse’s neck, brushing back its mane, while I regarded my lover. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “One way or another, amico mio,” he said. A wink punctuated the comment, a moment of levity given over to such a sobering thought, making it easier for us to share a smile. I paced backward and he nodded, his focus shifting to directly ahead of him. With a whistle and a nudge, he coaxed the beast forward, until they both disappeared down the road.

  Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself before walking back into the house. The door was open, combining the distant sound of children playing in the fields with the scent of dinner cooking in the hearth as I entered. Directing my attention toward the food, I strode closer, watching my brother’s wife stir stew in a cauldron. Jeffrey stood beside her, already sweaty from work.

  He glanced at me as I approached. “Good day, Christian,” he said. “Your friend is on his way, then?”

  His voice bore a convivial tone I immediately despised. “Yes, unfortunately so, but our employer is a harsh taskmaster. He would have become angry with Paolo if he lingered,” I said. A yawn crested past my lips as I finally made eye contact with him. “Alas, you’re stuck with me instead.”

  “Not much changed in nine years, then.” He flashed a small smile before patting Anne on the shoulder and walking away. I followed him to the table, where a fresh loaf of rye bread sat cooling. Jeffrey pulled out a plate and a knife. “I trust you rested well, considering you look much less exhausted today.”

  “I did. Barely slept for the last three days and spent two of them in travel.” I slid onto one of the bench seats. “As it is, I’m fortunate Paolo accompanied me here. I might have collapsed along the side of the road otherwise.”

  “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.” He thanked Anne as she walked over with scraps of cheese and meat, folded up into a cloth. She deposited it onto the plate and turned back toward the cauldron. It took my brother continuing for me to train my attention back to him. “Your friend is very… exotic. He said he hails from Verona?”

  I nodded, both hands lifting to smooth back the locks of my hair. “Yes, he does. I know very little about his homeland as he prefers not to speak of it. He ventured to England about seven years ago and already knew English by the time we met.”

  “You two seem fond of each other. Should I accuse you of caring for someone other than yourself?”

  “Accuse me of whatever you want. I will neither confirm, nor deny it.”

  “I believe there are times when you say things just to be contrary with me.” Placing two large slices of bread onto the plate, he passed it over to me, inviting himself to sit in the bench directly across. Jeffrey nodded at the meat on my plate. “You’re fortunate our lord’s had excess. You’ve had a proper treat with us during both of your visits.”

  “A silver lining to the cloud.” Regardless of my disposition, I did not mean the words to be wounding. Picking up a piece of bread, I ripped off the crust and popped a chunk of it into my mouth. “Out with it,” I managed while chewing. “You’re staring at me like a hungry dog begging for scraps.”

  “You did say we would talk in the morning,” Jeffrey countered. “I wa
s simply going to give you a chance to eat first.” He sighed, his disposition sobering. Glancing at his wife, he caught her eye and nodded at the comely woman, causing her to straighten her posture. She checked the food one last time, then turned for the front door and walked toward it.

  Jeffrey waited for her to disappear from sight before turning fully to face me again. “How bad is it, Christian?” he asked, his voice subdued.

  I shrugged, attempting to seem impassive even as a knot formed in my stomach. “The potential to be terrible,” I said, swallowing the bite of bread down. “More than likely, though, it’ll only earn me a harsh rebuke. If I was in mortal danger, I don’t think I would’ve made it here in such relative peace.”

  “Noted.” Although my gaze fell from his, I could still sense the troubled way he regarded me. “From where is this rebuke coming?”

  “My employer.” I bit off some of the cheese. “Roland has been warning me to pay better mind to my duties than my hobbies and this particular instance proved him right.”

  “I wonder if I should bother saying I appreciate that there are others minding after you.”

  “Please don’t. I think all of you fail to note I’m not a child any longer.” Slowly, I looked up at him, casting a weary gaze at my brother meant to ward him off nagging me much further. Once the message had been conveyed, I turned my attention back to the food. “Paolo minds after me as well, Jeffrey, if you were going to thank anybody for bearing that cross.”

  “I think I should.” Jeffrey paused, taking in a deep breath. I glanced at him again as I heard him release it with no small amount of heaviness. “I am weighing whether or not I should ask what would make an employer of scoundrels angry at you, Christian. I know what your hobbies have entailed. Did you have another brush with a cultist?”

  “I did, yes. I was to kill him. It was as I was examining his library that he walked in with a companion. He met his end, but she fled before I could reckon what to do with her. ”

  Jeffrey somehow managed to bite back whatever comment I saw aching to brim past his lips. Instead, he clasped both hands on the table, far too close to my food for my comfort. “Perhaps God is granting you the chance to reevaluate your life. There’s more than enough land here to work. It’s a rewarding life.”

  “A dull and stationary one, you mean.”

  “It’s stability. Why do you fight against that so much?”

  “Perhaps I’m not a stable man, Jeffrey.” Picking up what remained of the meat and cheese, I crammed it into the final slice of bread while rising to a stand. My brother looked up at me as I peered back down. “You are a good father and a caring husband,” I said. “I am reckless, selfish, and haunted.”

  “I think you don’t give yourself a chance to be anything else,” he countered.

  “No. But I recall trying to be you for a short time. It didn’t work out very well.”

  Biting into the piece of bread, I set my sights upon the door. Jeffrey frowned, but didn’t fight against my departure. I could already hear his objections circling around my thoughts anyway. The notion that there was a composed, quiet man somewhere deep in my heart bore all the earmarks of folly, a delusion I couldn’t hold true as I knew myself far too well. As I stepped outside, I passed his wife and spoke to her without glancing her way. “I believe we’re done disagreeing for the moment,” I said. “I’m off to finish my meal in peace.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but I didn’t let her. Instead, I wandered down toward the fields and sat at the edge of them. Once I had finished eating, I spied where my nieces had run off to, smiling at them as they caught my gaze and waved me over. Another child – a boy; presumably one of the other workers’ sons finished with his chores for the day – regarded me curiously, but helped pull me into their games for as long as my tired limbs would permit. Their squeals of joy lightened my disposition, laughter still ringing in my ears when I strode down to the stream to finish tidying up.

  It wasn’t until after I returned for supper that I felt the whispers return. Anne collected the bowls as we finished eating and the cups once the last of the ale had been consumed. The warmth of food and drink settled on my stomach for a time, but when the chill returned to my bones, I excused myself. My brother nodded and Anne regarded me in her usual silence, the smallest of mercies offered in that neither argued with my departure. Within a few moments, I had locked myself within the sanctuary of my room.

  Sinking into bed, I nestled in until I felt comfortable. Faint strains of conversation drifted in from the main room. The last, lingering embers of sunlight filtered through the windows, though not enough to disrupt the pervasive darkness. I sighed, rolling to a stand again and searching through my satchel for my tinderbox and the candle I had stolen from Lord Bertrand. As it burst into life, the glow emanating from the wick comforted me, coaxing me to pull out the spell book out from under the bed.

  I lowered atop the straw mattress once more, setting the candle aside and opening up the tome to its first page. Latin filled the next first few pages, with strange symbols jotted next to the words I had never before seen. Sitting up, I pulled the candle closer, flipping from section to section while trying to sort out what any of it meant. More of the same followed until I stopped on a page with a different sort of writing than had been on any preceding it.

  The Latin was still there, but under each word was a broken up rendition of that term, hyphens separating each syllable with the occasional variance in the spelling. It wasn't until I recited in my head that I realized what had been done. “Pronunciation,” I murmured, turning another page and seeing more of the same. I squinted at one phrase in particular, which seemed to precede both blocks of text, and mouthed the words first before giving unction to them. “Evo… catio…” I frowned and attempted it again with more confidence. “Evocatio spiritualis.”

  A shudder raced up my spine like quicksilver, forcing the book to drop from my hand and onto the floor. I scrambled to collect it, knocking over the candle and having to refocus my efforts toward righting it before it could catch the bed on fire. Hot wax dripped onto my fingers and I bit back a yelp while placing the candle beside where the tome had landed. Swearing underneath my breath, I wiped my fingers off on my pants, eyeing the sigil on the cover with a measure of fear. “Witchcraft,” I said, keeping my voice down lest my brother hear me.

  “Are you a sorcerer?”

  Shaking my head, I forced the question out of my mind once more while studying the hand I had burned. It caught me by surprise as I watched it tremble, but what shocked me even more was the realization of how desperately I wanted to try that again. “No,” I said, picking up the book and shoving it back under the bed. I blew out the candle and rushed from the room, deciding to take a walk lest I act suspicious in front of my brother. It took hours for me to feel settled enough to return, and even then, I snuck in quietly to avoid notice. Slipping inside my room, I slept without touching the tome for the remainder of the night.

  The next morning, I rose and found myself unwittingly forced into assisting my brother in the fields. The day had all but passed before I could seclude myself once more, the call of the spell book easy to ignore behind the veil of fatigue. It wasn’t until the day following that I woke to find my fingers itching, something rippling under my skin as though apt to burst through the seams. I took a quick walk to the creek in some effort to abate it.

  And yet, as I scooped up handfuls of water, even the sensation of the droplets stung in an odd manner. My breaths turned shallow and I toppled onto the ground in a seated position, attempting to figure out what had come over me. Vignettes passed through my thoughts, a discordant symphony of revelation pushing at invisible barriers and attempting to burst forth. The look of shock on Lawrence’s face. The wary way Jane had eyed me and the change to the air when I beheld the fire consuming Lawrence’s house. I forced myself to a stand, determined to make it back inside so I might make good on burying the book at last. After three days, the itch had be
come too much to tolerate.

  As I stepped across the threshold, however, I saw my brother poised by the hearth and paused when he looked up at me. “Christian,” he said, instantly stopping me from advancing any forward. A pregnant pause weighed in the air between the issuance of my name and Jeffrey continuing. “Could we talk?”

  “Don’t you have to get out to the fields?” I asked, but as my eyes rose to meet his, I saw what he held in his left hand and winced. He raised an eyebrow at me and I issued a shaky breath once I had taken stock of the full scenario. “Ah. I see you took it upon yourself to rummage through my things,” I said, my gaze shifting briefly to Anne and the girls before my returning to my brother.

  Jeffrey held the tome up as though to display it. The frown which overtook his expression bore a significant amount of weight, something dancing in his eyes I had never seen present there before. As I regarded him in silence, my brother scowled and I realized this would be unlike any of our other disagreements by the way the air shifted around us.

  “What is this thing doing in my house?” he asked. “And when were you intending to tell me about it?”

  Chapter Eight

  While I had long since mastered the art of annoying my brother, I hadn’t ever managed to inspire the sort of glower being directed toward me. I froze in position, as did Jeffrey, save but to gesticulate once more with the spell book. “Christian, do you have any notion as to what this is?” he spat when I failed to break the tense silence which had settled between us.

  A frown tugged at the corners of my lips as I weighed my response to him carefully. Something told me this had the potential to turn rash at any moment. “I have some idea now, yes,” I said.

  “Then you brought this satanic nonsense into my home deliberately?”

  The vitriol in his tone made me raise an eyebrow. I hazarded another step closer to him, waiting to speak until I was absolutely certain he wouldn’t overreact in response. “Jeffrey, I might be risking angering you further by asking this, but how do you know what it is?”