Blood of the Pure (Gaea)

by Sophia CarPerSanti

  “You owe me nothing, child. The reading is part of my mission,” she replied with her persisting smile as I rumbled through my brain for a way to object. “Ah, look. The rain has stopped,” she pointed out, looking over my shoulder towards the windows, and I followed her gaze.

  “Yes, at least for now.”

  “You should go, then. Before it starts again”

  I looked at her, aware of her strategy to end the subject, and I still couldn’t feel right taking something without giving something else in return. However, the honesty in her eyes left me without arguments and I knew I would probably never convince her otherwise, and that I would only end up offending her goodwill.

  “I thank you, once more, for your time. It was a really pleasant talk. And I don’t know how to thank you for your gift.” I looked for the right words and she nodded, pleased with my honest acceptance.

  “You’re quite welcome, child. I wish you luck and, above all, courage!” I smiled, for she had said the same thing as Steph, and I walked towards the door.

  “Thank you once more. And have a nice day.”

  “Be at peace, child, be at peace,” she answered as I opened the door. The small bell rang once again to announce my departure, and the cold wind made me shiver.

  I hugged the heavy volume under my coat to protect it from the weather and walked back to Trafalgar Square. There was no time to go to other bookshops any longer. But still, not knowing exactly why or how, I had just acquired a new book.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  As expected, the house was empty when I returned home by the end of the afternoon. I went to the kitchen and started on the steaks my mom had seasoned for our dinner. While the rice cooked I took a quick shower and put on my old bears pajamas, something I had since I was twelve and that still fit me perfectly. I dried my hair so it wouldn’t turn out even more disheveled than it already naturally was, and went down once more to grill the meat. I ate too aware of the time and the homework I still had to do, and saved Rachel’s dinner in the oven.

  Before going up to my room, I passed by the living room to grab my things, which I then dropped on my desk before practically fainting on my bed.

  We’d walked the whole afternoon and my feet throbbed. Besides, it had been a long day and I felt really tiered.

  Classes, the thing with Michael, the strange woman and her even stranger reading, the heavy book I had been forced to carry around all afternoon, the stores we had visited and that, by the end of the day, had been packed with people, the constant dressing and undressing. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I wondered if I still had enough energy to study.

  My eyes found the old book, under the bag with the only jersey I’d ended up buying. I’d promised to take good care of it, which meant finding it a place in one of my overcrowded bookshelves. With a sigh, I stood up once more and picked it up, feeling how soft its leather cover was and ended up sitting on my bed with it resting on my legs. The title engraved on the leather shone lightly and I couldn’t help notice that, even though its letters had looked silvery in the store, now they were more of a metallic red. The title, Magic Spells and Enchantments, made me smile.

  It sounded like a one of those children’s book, filled with fairy tales, and I opened it carefully to take a closer look. As expected from such an old volume, the pages were yellowish and some of the corners had crumbled from old age. All pages had a silver frame and the letters inside were similar to the ones in the cover, almost as if they’d been handwritten. To my surprise, as I flipped through it, I noticed that unlike a tales’ book or even a romance, its structure reminded me more of a cook book filled with recipes carefully organized by chapters. I looked for the index, which was also divided in three sections, and read it out loud.

  “Magic Spells - of Friendship, of Love, of Communication, to Heal, of Prosperity, of Protection, of Purification, of Spiritual Evolution, to Bless, to Cast Away, to Cause Pain, to Be Successful, to Cause Failure, to Bind, Spells and Curses. Enchantments - of Animals, of Elementals, of Spirits, of Minerals, of Objects, of People, of Plants. Magic Circles of Protection, Seals and Talismans …”

  I could almost laugh or I knew I should probably be laughing, but since I was alone, there was no need for me to act like I was supposed to, and so I simply caressed the shiny letters. It really sounded like something out of some fantasy movie. How could someone in the twenty-first century believe in things like that?

  But still my eyes stopped over a page number written in roman characters and my hands flipped through the yellow pages once again. On the top of the page, in letters that ended in delicate swirls, was written - ‘Love Spells.’

  Smiling in what I knew would be a perfect expression of amusement, I went through the next pages reading the titles of the magic recipes that filled the chapter.

  ‘To attract a rich husband (or wife),’ ‘To make sure of fidelity,’ ‘To attract a new love,’ ‘To avoid jealousy,’ ‘To have a satisfying sexual life,’ ‘To protect lovers,’ ‘To conquer a predestined love …’

  My eyes stopped on that page, refusing to read more than the title. What the old woman had told me replayed on my mind. She had also spoken of a predestined love.

  I shook my head, criticizing myself for half taking something as nonsensical as that seriously and, using curiosity as an excuse, read through the recipe.

  To my surprise, it wasn’t all that hard. I’d expected the recipes in that thick book to be virtually impossible to comply with, meaning its results were impossible to verify. The process included some rhymes to say out loud, a candle that had to be lit, a drop of blood to shed and, of course, a bunch of steps that needed to be followed.

  I sighed. If only things would be that easy people like me would never have to go through the shame and pain I had to endure that morning.

  The first thing written on that recipe was ‘It’s advised to raise a Protection Circle. See page cccxxiii.’

  I flipped through the pages once more, careful not to lose my love spell, and quickly read over the requirements to fulfill that second task. Once more it all sounded rather easy. According to the recipe, a Protection Circle had to be drawn in white or with salt. In the center, with its main point north, a pentagram should be included. The book even had some illustrations to help better understand the procedures.

  Thinking it would probably be fun, and not wanting to admit a small part of me really wished it would actually work, I stood up, leaving the book on the bed, and ran down the stairs. I quickly put together the needed ingredients, including a small flask of sea salt my mother liked using on her cooking, a candle from the light failure prevention cupboard, a small kitchen knife and a glass with water. I went back up to my room and joined my potted plant, which I kept near the window, with the rest of my magical ingredients.

  I stopped for a moment, looking at all those things lying before my feet and asked myself, what in the hell was I doing. But my eyes flew to the book and I shrugged. What could happen anyway? Those were all myths and legends. As real as God coming down from above to enter a piece of host during the Eucharist.

  I opened a dresser drawer and looked for a compass. Marking the cardinal points on the floor, I filled a hand with sea salt and drew a perfect circle to the best of my abilities — starting east and going clockwise. I drew a pentagram on the inside and another circle on the outside. Next I copied the strange symbols as shown on the book, drawing them in the space between the two circles, this time counter clockwise, one at top of each of the pentagram’s vertices. When I was done I placed the book and the rest of the objects I’d gathered near me and lit the candle. I took off my shoes, took a deep breath and stepped into the circle, careful not to ruin any of my drawings. Peering towards the book, I read out loud:

  “The Circle has no beginning and no end; it is in eternal balance. This is a time beyond time. This is a space beyond space. Here the Dream World and the Waking World meet and are one together. So may it be.”

&n
bsp; I picked up the glass with water and gave three steps towards west, starting the greetings and evocations of the Guardians of the Elements. After the Guardian of the West, of the Element Water, came the Guardian of the South, of the Element Fire, which I honored with my candle. Next came East, of the Element Air, to which I offered some of my own breath. And last came the Guardian of the North, of the Element Earth, to which I gave a handful of dirt stolen from my potted plant.

  “So may it be,” I read again and knelt, placing my hands over my chest like the recipe indicated. “I walk towards the darkness and lose all sense of materialness. I’m not blood, I’m not flesh, I’m not bones. I’m pure intuition, conscience and will. Around me I hear mountains rising and stones falling. I would recoil to protect myself but I do not have a body. I’m pure Soul, white light amongst the darkness of the universe.”

  I stood up again and, always facing north and the head of my pentagram, gave five small steps backwards so I wouldn’t step out of the Circle. I knelt again and flipped through the pages back to my love spell.

  The Circle where I stood should have the ability to protect me from the outside negative energies, and intensify my own inner energy, or so the book said. I placed the kitchen knife next to me and took a deep breath. The book said something about how to clean and consecrate the knife, but I jumped over that part. The purification process would take several days, including nights under the moonlight and some special herbs. I quickly read over the spell once more, making sure I had everything I needed, and focused on reading the magic words:

  “Yog-Sothoth, Master of Dimensions, through you I now enter the World of Magic. To you, the one without face or features, I ask you to guide me through the night of your creation, so that I may contemplate the bonds that unite the Angels and the promise of the fulfillment of my will.”

  I read, proceeding with the naming of the Nine Angels, creators of the secret worlds. When it was over I silently read the text that, in a different color, instructed what I had to do next. Holding my kitchen knife I pressed the point against my index finger and winced when the blade broke my skin. I squeezed my finger until a droplet of blood was formed and went back to the book for some more reading.

  “With no blood, with no flesh, with no bones, listen to the voice of my Soul. That this bridge, between my life and I, may echo my will, so that it may be heard and fulfilled,” I claimed and frowned as I tried to decipher what had been written next. Inside the pentagram I drew the sign of the infinite with my bloodied finger and tried to read the next phrase without tangling my tongue. “I’a k’nark ... Ishanyx ... kyr’w ... qu’ra ... cylth ... drehm’n ... El-ak.”

  As soon as I pronounced the last syllable, the five symbols I had drawn in between the two circles came alight, shining incandescently. As I looked completely stunned at what was happening right before my eyes, they exploded, throwing sea salt everywhere, almost as if the light had been too intense to be contained within the symbols. A windstorm took over my room like someone opened the windows to allow a cyclone in. I heard the book pages rustle as they were thrown from one side to another and the sound of the candle holder as it fell. Trying to make sense of everything, I shielded my eyes with one hand and looked towards the window that, to my disbelief, was still firmly shut. The strong wind destroyed the rest of the Circle and blew away all the papers on my desk. The bag with the new jersey Steph had forced me to buy fell on the ground. The roar all around was so strong I thought I would end up deaf, which meant it was no use screaming for help. And the speed of the whirlwind around me made it difficult to breathe. Above all, I was so shocked with what my eyes were seeing I couldn’t even think.

  I raised my eyes to the origin of the windstorm and blinked twice to make sure of what was ... or wasn’t occurring. Floating right in front of my eyes, suspended in midair, at the center of what used to be a pentagram, was a black mass of nothingness. No color, no sound, no air. The nothingness was pure darkness spitting out that furious vortex of wind.

  I couldn’t move, nor speak or even blink. I briefly thought I could only be dreaming, that somehow I had fallen asleep along the way and hadn’t even noticed it.

  The nothingness that had been dark and round began to slowly stretch, and I asked myself if it would end up swallowing the whole room, and me with it! Finally it stopped growing and the wind subsided until everything was silent once again. The nothingness, however, hadn’t disappeared and, as I stared at it, started to look more like some kind of egg. In the silence my irregular breath became suddenly quite audible, as my heart ran desperately inside my chest. Unable to think about any of the possible consequences, I raised my right hand, which wouldn’t stop shaking, to touch it. That thing looked hard, but at the same time almost liquid. It looked soft and malleable. On the other hand, its shape was perfectly geometrical.

  However, as soon as I touched it, a shrill shriek echoed through my room making me cover both ears. The dark egg exploded with that screeching sound and what stood in its place was even more terrifying.

  I dragged myself along the floor, pulling away without even thinking, until I hit the wall. Even then I tried to get farther away, as if I could drill a hole somewhere and simply run away. My crazed eyes didn’t know where or what to look at. The only thing I could hear was my own breath, guaranteeing me I was still alive. The horror froze me inside, making me shiver uncontrollably, and erased all rational thoughts from my mind.

  I suddenly saw arms and hands holding legs covered in black; a cascade of long black hair falling over bent knees pulled against a white chest. The skin I could see was inhumanely white. And worst of all, I saw dark glossy wings embracing a body protectively.

  This was no dream! It was a nightmare from which I wished I could wake up as soon as possible!

  But I didn’t wake up. And, as my eyes that I couldn’t for the life of me close began burning, the horror that completely ruled over me threatened to stop my heart from beating. Unable to move and utterly terrified, I watched as the inhuman figure slowly came to life. The arm around its knees fell to its side and the legs began to stretch, even though it still floated in midair. The black tunic it wore, looking more like a piece of satin wrapped around it, floated down with a gentle murmur, shocking vividly with the panic inside me.

  It raised its head and I wanted to scream, run, cry ... anything ... but I simply stood there, trembling and powerless. I saw flashes of its face, but my eyes wouldn’t stop wandering around in sheer terror. And then its wings opened, like dark shadows ready to devour the entire world, and the deafening roar came back. I think I screamed. I should have. I remember closing my eyes tightly and thinking I would probably never open them again. The silence that followed convinced me I’d been right and that my life was over, and I silently gave thanks that at least it had been painless.

  The sound of footsteps over broken glass startled me and the fear that momentarily left me came back to strangle my chest. Dreading what I was about to see, wishing I wouldn’t be able to do it, I opened my eyes to a scene of complete devastation.

  My desk had been shattered in hundreds of small wooden pieces; my books were all over the floor, some lying opened, many torn, their white pages dancing lazily by the cold wind coming from the window. The window! Sure, it was still closed, but the glass was shattered into tiny bits that shone among the broken wood and torn pages.

  A shadow leaned over me and, panicking, I recalled what I’d tried so hard to forget. Why hadn’t I simply fainted? Maybe I’d wake up the next day, cursing the irritating sound of the alarm clock, like any other day.

  Unable to avoid it and wishing I didn’t have to, I turned my head, my stiff neck hurting, and looked at it ... at him. His face was as close to mine as Michael’s had been, the day before, but still I couldn’t see him. Without thinking I opened my mouth and took a deep breath so I could scream, but a cold hand with long fingers silenced me, almost suffocating me to death.

  “Hush ... Since you’re going to die anywa
y, why not do it quietly?” he asked me in a low voice. I don’t know which startled me the most — that he could talk, that I could understand him or that his voice sounded as deep and soft as velvet. My eyes finally stopped wandering aimlessly and stared back at him. His eyes were frighteningly unreal, shining hypnotically in a violet color sparkled with red. “Hmm ... and to think that a small Human child, with no Magic whatsoever, would be able to release me from that Seal,” he mused sarcastically. I couldn’t help thinking that even with those words, his voice was really beautiful. “Nothing personal, Human. To tell you the truth, I’m even thankful. And I’m sorry I’m not the kind of being that can be evoked to fulfill your pathetic wishes. Just think of it as ... bad luck,” he added, sounding bleakly amused, and his eyes stretched out telling me that he’d probably smiled. “Your Soul belongs to me now,” he told me as he placed his other hand over my chest, crushing me against the wall. Pain shot through my ribs and I thought they were about to break. I tried to cough but I could hardly breathe, and my sight became blurry as I felt hot tears sliding down my cheeks.

  Suddenly, and to my surprise, his hands were pulled away and I could finally cough while gasping for air. I pressed the ribs that hurt and winced as my lungs burnt.

  “You!” His incredulous tone of accusation made me look up. He was holding his hand against his chest, as if he’d hurt himself, and my gaze wandered aimlessly again as terror ate at me from within. I think I saw him smile and a terrifying expression transformed his marble face. He kept his wings closed against his body and my stomach cramped, threatening to throw up my dinner. And then his fingers were holding me again, this time surrounding my neck, and I was sure that I’d just taken my last breath. “Change of plans!” he informed me and once again I became a prisoner of his crimson gaze. “I will establish a Contract with you. I will fulfill your pathetic wish. And, in return, your virginity is mine.”