by Shyla Colt
“Issur is much more than that. An expert on the Djinn with access to rare and accurate documentation, he’s the best chance we have. He’s come up with an interesting theory I’d like you to allow him to share.” I grab a scone from the three-tier tray and wait as they talk among themselves. The high-tea setting is informal, but the decisions are life-altering. After a time, Mémé turns to me.
“We’ll hear him out,” Vale says, speaking for the rest of the group.
“Thank you.”
“Please send Baal Shem into the parlor.” A few moments later the pocket doors slide open. The expressions range from shocked to uncomfortable when they realize I’ve summoned him without saying a word. It’s almost comical. At five-foot-five-inches, the thin man with a shock of white hair under his wide-brim, black hat should seem frail. Two mid-length payots curl along either side of his long, thin face. His black suit is modest. If one passed him on the street, they wouldn’t look twice.
It’s in direct contrast with the aura of power that surrounds him. The intensity in his dark gaze labels him a man not to be trifled with.
I stand. “Baal Shem Issur thank you for joining us today.”
“We must all join together in the pursuit of vanquishing this evil. I’ve spent my entire life battling the devil and his offspring, but at no time have they been closer to prevailing. They have one goal, conquering the Earth, and always they are seeking a way to achieve this.”
“Please sit.” I steer him to an over-sized brown leather chair.
“How do you think this happened?” Vale asks.
“Sealed places by Yahweh keep most demons below. However, Djinn are different. They have their own universe. Yaweh knew they needed more to contain them. I make it my business to know the state of the seals at all times. They remain unbroken. Which is puzzling.”
“How is this happening, then?” Fel asks.
“They’ve found a shortcut if you will. There are demonic artifacts capable of attacking the veil. It would take time and immense negative energy, but for them, waiting is what they do best.”
“Negative energy?” Mémé tilts her head slightly.
“Human corruption is fuel for them. The three wishes are a way into a person’s life and ultimately their soul. They offer a chance for more in exchange for favors. They start small, allowing them to build trust. Then the depravity grows. The Djinn will claim he requires more personal sacrifice to generate the power needed to achieve their desires. What people are capable of doing to get what they want would shock you. It turns good people into vile, unrecognizable strangers. Ask yourself this question: what wouldn’t you do to get everything you ever wanted?”
“A hell of a lot,” someone mumbles.
“How can we figure out what this artifact is?” Mémé asks, getting straight to the point.
“I have access to texts, outlining them.” He pauses and twines his fingers. “I believe it’s best to go straight to the source in this matter. We must learn the name of the Djinn, and summon him to get more information and narrow our search. I fear what may happen if we leave it too long—”
“Wait. This thing put Lou in the hospital after a short encounter and yet you want to face it head on?” Zephirin says slowly.
“Yes. Yahweh has provided us with a clue. The woman who was possessed is currently in the hospital. A deliverance would allow us to free her from entrapment and discover the name.” Charlotte was rushed to the hospital with a case of exhaustion, dehydration, and shock after a freak low-level earthquake caused a house to shift, due to a fault that had lain dormant for years. People will go to great lengths to explain impossible things, in what they believe is a logical manner.
“Baal Shem. With all due respect, I highly doubt her high profile husband would—” Sacha begins.
He holds up a hand, silencing her in mid-sentence. “Yahweh will smooth the way. We must act quickly. Today. Father Axson will be assisting me locally.”
“What do you need from us?” Mémé asks.
“Your support when it comes time to repair what’s been damaged in the barrier between our worlds,” he says.
“I take it you have a plan, Mr. Issur?” Meadow says.
“Yes. One I’m ready to set into motion immediately.”
“I believe I speak for the majority of us when I say let us proceed. Those opposed?”
“Nay.” Zephirin’s objection is expected.
“Those in agreement?”
“Yay.”
“The yays have it. Tell us what we can do to help, Baal Shem,” I say.
***
Wooden bowls line the food tray which serves as a makeshift altar. Charlotte’s still form rests on the bed. The rise and fall of her chest and the steady beep of her monitors are the only indications she’s alive. It’s a crime to see a woman so full of a life cut low. With severely chapped lips, mottled skin, and sunken in cheeks, she’s ravaged. Even if she gained her new husband and wealth with wishes, she doesn’t deserve this. Baal Shem prays quietly in Hebrew as he anoints himself with oil. He picks up the white tallit with fringed edges, and a blue and gray striped design, kisses the prayer shawl, and bows. I wonder at the symbolism as he wraps it around his shoulders.
This is a glimpse into a world I’ve never been a part of. Father Axson steps inside and closes the door behind him.
“The staff is used to me being here to visit with the patients. The nurses usually make their rounds on this floor about every hour. Between the distraction spell and our lookouts, we’re fine to begin.” Father Axson turns his attention to Sacha, Fel, and I. “Are you ready to hold her in place?” He insists using our powers to keep her immobile is more humane than the usual method of tying her to the bed. It still feels wrong to restrict someone this way. I double check the silencing spell before nodding.
“We are.”
Father places his brown leather case on a chair and removes his purple stole. He kisses the strip of fabric before placing it around his neck, removes his cross, and a bottle of holy water. I watch as his face becomes serious. The sparkle in his eyes is replaced with determination as he prepares himself for the battle to come. He pulls out his Bible, as Baal Shem begins to sing, rocking back in forth in a continuous bow.
Charlotte sits up so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. Her eyes pop open.
“What are you doing in here?” She clutches the sheet up to her chest, sounding like a lost child.
“Do you remember me, Charlotte?” Father Axon steps forward. “We’ve talked before.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “None of you should be in here. This is my room. I want you all gone.” Her voice turns shrill.
“Your tricks won’t work on us. No one is coming in here,” Father Axson says calmly.
“You’re crazy,” she whispers, shaking her head. Her lower lip trembles. Her knuckles turn white where she clutches the thin sheet. She plays the victim well. If I hadn’t seen her reenact a scene from a few days ago, I’d be inclined to help her.
“We are speaking with the entity inside of Charlotte now,” Father Axson says. His deep baritone is clear and commanding.
Baal Shem lights a stick of incense. The sharp scent of sulfur fills the room. Charlotte’s lip twitches as he waves the smoke around her bed, fumigating. The process is meant to coax the spirit out of hiding. We received a crash course on Jewish Exorcism on the way over. It differs from the traditional Christian practice in a number of ways.
Her eyes bleed black, and she growls, gnashing her teeth. “You can’t stop what’s put into motion, holy men,” she says in a deep, gravelly voice.
“Speak your name, and leave this child of God,” Father commands. Charlotte jerks. We focus on keeping her arms and legs pressed into the mattress. The bed rattles. A crack forms the length of the ceiling to the floor.
“She’s mine. S
he made the deal and asked for this. They all do.”
“We will break your hold.” Father ignores his comments and begins to read the Bible.
Charlotte begins to speak in a harsh language. She jerks her head to the left and right, fighting our grip.
“I command you to tell us your name.” A lump forms in Charlotte’s throat. An unholy snarl vibrates in her chest. She snaps her teeth. The bed comes off the floor and slams down in a rhythmic pattern. The overhead lights flicker and the blinds open and close.
“Ah. Aaaah.” The sound is violently ripped from Charlotte’s throat.
Baal Shem flicks holy water onto her. Steam rises off her body like dry ice has been dropped into water. Her skin sizzles and blisters.
“Ag. Ag.” She chokes on the sounds. “Agares.”
Baal Shem begins a haunting wailing of the Djinn’s name. He bows repeatedly. Her body convulses. Windows shatter inward, coating us with glass. We scream as the glass knicks us. The Djinn sends out a jolt of power that slams the three of us to the wall, breaking our hold. Charlotte dashes to the large window, pausing briefly. She peers over her shoulder at us with sorrow-filled eyes.
“It wasn’t worth it. You have to destroy the box.” She turns mechanically and steps out the window as if she expected to walk on air.
The loud thud as her body hits the ground is quickly followed by screams that set us into motion. I push myself off the floor and stumble across the room on Bambi’s legs. No one can know we were here for this. I’m numb as I repair the damage and help the men collect their equipment. Tears blind me as we leave the room under a veil of spells. Self-preservation wars with self-loathing as I force one foot in front of the other. We’d killed her as surely as if we’d thrown her out the window.
Silence remains as we wait for the elevator. I fight the urge to give in to tears. I didn’t like her, but life is precious, and hers ended badly. An alarm sounds as nurses rush into the room and panic begins. The elevator door opens with a ding. We step inside. I’m a Cyberman from a Doctor Who episode. Emotionally bankrupt, running on instincts, and focused on the mission. Whatever my personal feelings, this is about preventing the end of the world. It trumps everything else, right? It’s hard to tell when my brain is on overload. The gentle caress of Renee’s consciousness against my own makes me smile. He’s letting me know he’s here. Able to blend in and charm, he was the perfect choice for our lookout.
We walk out to the insanity of police sirens, crowds, and security rushing in to provide order. We were the stone in the pond that caused these ripples.
“If that was the right thing, why do I feel like a murderer?”
“Do not let the enemy weaken you. He wants to distract you from your purpose. Always remember, he’s the one who caused this. We will end this. Do not let Charlotte’s last gift be in vain.”
“What gift was that, Father? All I saw as pain and despair.”
“Hope. With the name and the clue, she gave us the most powerful gift of all next to love.”
“He is right. I believe I know the artifact of which she spoke,” Baal Shem says as we walk across the road to the parking lot. “It is a puzzle box. Fitting for a Djinn, isn’t it? It’s an intricate creation made up of tiny pieces that must’ve been gathered over the ages.”
“Demons have nothing but time. That’s what makes them so dangerous. They never forgive, and they’ll wait for the perfect moment to strike every time,” Father added. “What you’re all feeling right now is the aftereffect of being exposed to the demonic. This will pass in time. Keep your faith close.”
“How do we find the box, and what do after we get our hands on it?” I ask.
“We must consult the books,” Baal Shem replies.
Two steps forward and a million back. No one speaks as we make our way to the church van and climb inside. I’m grateful that Father is driving. I tune out as we pull onto the road and I watch the scenery go by. The sun sets in a beautiful display of peach, lavender, royal purple, and blush, yet all I feel is cold. Resting my head against the cool window, I welcome the night. A thump on the windshield draws my attention from the safe cloud of nothingness I’d allowed my brain to sink into.
“Suicidal bug,” Sacha mumbles.
I snicker.
Three more splats make me tense. Insects begin to pelt the car like hail. The wipers swish furiously, but they’re no match for the carnage of carcasses. Fog rushes toward us, effectively cutting us off from the rest of the world as visibility shrinks to less than a foot in front of us. A body appears in the middle of the road. Flying into the air, it slams down onto the hood. We veer off the road. The long-limbed creature’s claws clack over the windshield. It offers us a jagged, rotting-tooth grin. It disappears from view. Pop. The front tires blow. The van swerves as Father fights to gain control.
We rumbled to a stop in the grass on the side of the road.
“Is everyone okay?” Fel asks.
A chorus of ‘yes’ comes back to her.
“It’s trying to stop us. It’s frightened,” Father marvels.
“This means we’re on the right path,” Baal Shem replies.
“We have to get out of the car.” I fumble with my seatbelt and shove the door open as my instincts scream at me to move faster. The thick fog keeps us close together while we move away from the van. A semi slams into the side, dragging the vehicle away into the dense white. I scream, jerking back. If we’d been slower …
I can feel the court racing toward us.
“The others will be here soon,” I say. We just have to make it until then.
An eerie howl goes up in the distance. Others join. We shrink back. In the distance, I make out vague shapes moving toward us.
“Do you see them?” Sacha asks.
“Yes.”
“Hell Hounds,” Father whispers.
Close enough to view, the black dogs crouch, baring their fangs. Saliva drips from the pointed tips like venom, and their red eyes pierce the darkness. Without the holy men, we’re lost. Their safety comes before mine. The adrenaline coursing through my veins tricks me into believing I have energy. Prepared to take advantage of the pain blockers, I come up with a tentative plan. Planting my feet, I erect a barrier between us and the dogs from hell.
“On three, I want you to run. The others are close. We just have to make it until they arrive. Fel, stay with them. Sacha and I will lead them away.”
“What? I’m not leaving you.”
“Felicite. Please.”
She sneers. “Fine.”
“One. Two. Three.” I shove the barrier forward, sending them flying back like bowling pins. The sickening smack upon impact gives me a moment of happiness.
“Feu!” Sacha calls. A wall of wire leaps up, putting a physical barrier between them and us. We dart off in opposite directions. I can hear their massive paws pounding the ground as they resume the chase.
“Terre!” A wall of dirt rises. Loud yelps tell me I’ve hit my target. Still, more panting remains too close for comfort.
Archangel Michael, defend us. I pray like I never have before as my lungs burn, my legs shake, and fear rises up inside of me. A brilliant light flashes. I stumble and throw my arm up to shield my eyes from further damage. A large, flaming sword slices down, cutting a path through the fog. Stunned, I turn to Sacha. She grabs my hand, and we run full tilt down the cleared space. I glance back to see a form made of pure light wielding the weapon once more. The winged figure cuts the dogs down with a few quick blows.
“Dove.”
I’m swept into Cristobal’s arms. Eye ablaze and fangs distended, my court is a formidable wall between us and danger.
“We felt your distress, but I had to use magic to get here to you. There was a powerful barrier.” He cups the back of my head, and I bury my face in his neck, allowing myself a moment to enjoy being alive.<
br />
“The others?”
“Safe. I already had Larkin, Percival, and Miles carry them off.”
I relax. “Thank you. All of you.” My voice shakes.
“You’re dead on your feet,” Cristobal remarks.
“It’s been a rough week,” I say sarcastically.
He moves to bite his wrist, and I shake my head and wiggle. He lowers me to the ground.
“We should go. I’ll be fine. I just need rest.”
“Blood will help boost your energy.” Cristobal holds out his wrist.
I turn my head away. “It’s not a V-8, Cristobal. I don’t need it that bad.”
“Because you have to be at death’s door to drink from me?” Cristobal glowers down at me. He’s not used to being opposed.
“I didn’t say that. You’re overreacting.” I refuse to let drinking blood become a crutch I constantly lean on.
“No. You are clinging to outdated beliefs.”
“Let me. You’re carrying around some long gone practices yourself.” His anger is a hot wave. He’s shaken by the close call. So am I.
Marcellus clears his throat. “We should go.”
“We’ll send someone to retrieve the van and replace it for them,” Cristobal says banking the fire in his voice.
“I’ve got Sacha,” Renee offers, turning his bright grin her way. “It’s like a piggyback ride at warp speed.”
She laughs. “I guess there’s a first time for everything. We’ll see you back at the house.”
She’s gone with Ruby and Ada trailing them before I can comment. As the rest of the court disperses, Cristobal scoops me up under my knees. He’s far too dignified for a piggyback ride. I giggle. He smiles down at me. “Hold on.” He takes off like a bullet from the gun. I close my eyes as the world rushes by in a rush of air.
We end up in the gardens.
“Do we have to finish this now?”
“Yes, we’ve already left it too long.”
“We’re bonded. I’m becoming Lady of your Court. Do you really need more from me right now?”
“Don’t you see you’re only delaying the inevitable?”
