Resurrection

by Zed Amadeo

  “Congratulations Dina,” Alejandra said. “You are now a witch.” She handed me the ceremonial knife we had used in the ritual.

  “Now you shall fulfill your purpose.”

  ***

  Scrying. A method used to locate people by staring into a specially treated pool of water. Usually only possible to locate a person’s general vicinity if you have a strong emotional connection to them. Even with those criteria, it didn’t always work. I was determine to try anyway.

  I stared into that bowl of water until my eyes went blurry, filling myself with the red-hot anger evoked by memories of that night. Hours later, after a substantial amount of effort, one of them came into focus, a fuzzy image formed in the water’s surface: Joe, sitting in a well-known restaurant that was some distance away from here. First target located.

  “You have wonderful things ahead of you,” Alejandra said to me. “I am absolutely certain. Know that when you return, a world of opportunity awaits. Your true fate has only just begun.” A surge of unexpected emotion rushed through me. A person that I had only known for little more than a month, and yet she had given more than the people that I had known for the entirety of my life. She gave me a kiss on each cheek and a last-minute gift of a witch’s broom before I embarked on my journey.

  My mind filled with wondrous visions of the road ahead. I already knew my destination, but the path to it was filled with endlessly satisfying possibilities. First step was finding Joe. All I had to do was stake out the restaurant, making sure to keep myself hidden, until I spotted him getting a meal. After containing my knee-jerk reaction to obtain my revenge then and there, I waited until he left, and followed him to his apartment. He left his windows open, blinds barely shut. I could see him sitting in the living room, watching television and lifting a small dumbbell with a glazed-over expression. His face took me back to that night. I broke myself out of that and reminded myself that I was the powerful one now. He would soon be the one cowering in fear.

  I needed to start the night off right. I picked up the closest rock I could find and flung it at his window, shattering the glass. He dropped his dumbbell and pressed himself against the floor. When he yelled out “Who’s there?” with his voice trembling, I knew that my first step had been successful. I walked toward the shattered window, savoring every step that I took toward his frightened form. By the time he repeated his question, I had already crawled through the nearly empty pane. He scrambled up from the floor and pressed himself against the wall farthest from me.

  “What do you want from me?” he yelled. “Please, I’ll give you money, anything you want.”

  “You really don’t remember me?” I asked him. He stared at me, eyes full of confusion. “You don’t remember the innocent woman that you and your friend left for dead?” His eyes widened and lit up with a combination of fear and recognition.

  “But how did you-” he began. His chest expanded and deflated faster with every passing moment.

  “Magic.” I asked.

  “Magic?” he asked.

  “Yes, Joe,” he said. “You’re not the only one with that ability.” He remained still as I continued to walk toward him.

  “Please,” he begged. “I-I don’t even mess with that shit anymore. Not since we got kicked out. I’ve really changed. I’ve taken my life in a new direction. I’m-I’m sorry okay? Things got out of hand. We never-“

  “-Intended for me to survive?” I asked. “I don’t intend for you to survive either. Let’s hope I do a better job that you did.”

  “Pl-” The last sound I allowed him to make before I struck out at him. Relying upon the anger invoked by his vile presence, I began to prepare myself for the ritual to come. He continued to stare at me with increasing fear and confusion at the knife that I now held, raising his palms toward me in defeat and revealing the complex brand that had been burned into both of his hands. I wasn’t going to kill him just yet. I had other uses that I needed to get out of him first.

  I dropped down to the floor, closed my eyes, and pulled myself out of my old skin with significantly less pain than before. He stared at my new form in horror, even as I grabbed his arms and forced him to look into my dark eyes, placing myself into his body.

  A deluge of Joe’s memories rushed into my mind. The faint visions of events that were useless to me, zipping uncontrollably past my mind. I stopped the stream when it came to the night of my attack.

  I could see everything from his view. Flying through the air with my best friend Seymour at my side. He had just spotted an ordinary woman in her car, looking up at us. Our temporary invisibility spells had worn off. That night, I hadn’t been quite in the mood for our usual shenanigans. I wanted to leave her alone. Seymour told me that he had other plans. He told me to lighten up and have some fun. So I followed him. He had been right. That night had been a blast, reminding me of the good old days. Surely, more of our secret nightly adventures were sure to come afterward.

  I saw the news before Seymour did. The gristly result of our nightly fun laid out in a broadcast story. The woman had been found alive. I called him, panicking, asking him what we should do because sooner or later we would be found out. He told me to calm down and relax, everything would be alright, only I couldn’t understand how.

  I used to think that something was wrong with me. Ever since my early days of study, I had always had compulsions to hurt with my magic. I had kept them hidden for so long, until I had found a brother in Seymour for that reason. He and I thought in deliciously similar ways. Whenever possible, we would allow ourselves to give into our urges. Seymour helped nurture my dark side. He was the first to finally understand me.

  We had always been in the business of ordinary bystanders. Mostly women. Broads were where we had the real fun. As long as they didn’t survive, we were good, satisfied with the fact that the boring mundane world would never be able to discover the source of these disappearances. They would never believe that it had been warlocks.

  Now that we were going to be caught, I would lose everything. All of the potential I used to have ahead of me. I was going to be a great warlock. I just needed to get this violence out of my system. I hadn’t been quite there yet, but soon. I could’ve made it.

  Alejandra, the closest thing we had to a leader, called a community meeting. She gathered all of the witches and warlocks in Greenville to watch as two of her associates held Seymour and I down, forcing our palms outward, so that they could burn the mark into our flesh. I almost passed out from the pain. When I became fully conscious again, the crowd was still around me, and she had ordered our banishment.

  Among our community, news spreads fast. Seymour and I would never be able to re-integrate ourselves. He wanted to fight against her, but even he knew that that was a stupid idea. She was far more powerful than the two of us combined. Seymour and I went our separate ways: he to a city a few hours away, and me to my current apartment. I had only gone to visit him one time since. Being around him reminded me of the dark part of myself that I wanted to bury.

  I had lost my place. The world had discovered the darkness within me and had rejected me for it. Now I would have to start from scratch, all because Seymour and I had fucked up and that broad had lived. If only she hadn’t decided to pop back into my life as I was making progress.

  With that last thought, I wrenched myself out of his body and went back into my own, having gotten the information that I needed most from him. I stood above him, waiting for something to happen. After only a few moments, the shimmering white haze of his essence descended through the ceiling and crashed back into his body, jolting him awake. I pulled my knife back out to silence him.

  “Make a single sound,” I told him, “And I will make this as painful for you as it was for me.” His eyes went wide, but he did not speak a word.

  I turned his TV all the way up before I got to work, slashing at his flesh to carve the appropriate symbol and watching the blood gush from him. He flailed around
at first, instinctively trying to fight back. By the end, his eyes rolled up into his head and his entire body shivered. I chanted the ancient words that I had rehearsed that would turn his death into my power. He broke his silence and pleaded with me, asking me why I was doing this.

  "It’s only fair that I repay you the great favor that you did for me,” I told him. I took in a breath before I stabbed him one last time, almost silently, blood spilling everywhere, staining the carpet. I placed my palms into the puddle, lifted them up to my face, feeling his strength pour into me. His spilled blood was so precious.

  As I watched his life force leave his body, dripping out through his bloody wounds and streaming into me, I thought that I had never experienced such a pleasant sensation. I soaked up the moment, savoring his spirit while I waited for his body to begin disintegrating into nothing.

  The moment of Joe’s death and mystical evaporation should have helped to quench my thirst for revenge. But killing Joe became an appetizer, a mere teaser to a greater sensation. Without looking back, I set my sights on Joe’s old pal, Seymour.

  My only plan with Seymour had consisted of a vague bloodlust. Joe had felt guilty, but more so because he was caught than for the actual act that he had committed. Of the two, Seymour had been the ringleader. I needed to make Seymour’s end extra satisfying. I hopped on my broom and began the next step in my journey.

  It was morning by the time that I arrived in Seymour’s city. Joe had given me some other crucial information about Seymour that I would use to my benefit: he thought himself a womanizer, a mini-Casanova even with the girlfriend in his life, and he could not resist the charms of a busty redhead. My hair color was the wrong shade for his taste, but I held the power to change that. I found a woman that more or less fit the description and followed her until she was alone before I took over her body. I tucked my own shell away in the woman’s house, revealed to me during the flood of her uninteresting memories.

  I hadn’t even gotten to Seymour’s house and I was already feeling some satisfaction. I was bracing the streets with my presence, gathering stares wherever I went, tall, curvy, and gorgeous. On my way to Seymour’s, it began to rain, making my plan that much better. Lots of rain made for wet clothes, damp hair, and sparkling eyes. I went from gorgeous to stunning. As I strolled up to Seymour’s doorstep, I braced myself for whatever emotions might arise from seeing the ringleader again. Soon after, I was propelled by how sweet revenge had been so far, and how delicious it would taste once carried out again.

  Seymour answered on the second knock. Joe had cared enough to change his appearance since the attack. Seymour had not. He looked almost exactly as awful as he had before. I realized, just as I was gazing at him with a short-lived fear, he was staring back at me with wonder.

  “Who are you?” he asked me. I sprinted away from the associations I had come to make with the sound of his voice. I drew upon every lusty stereotype that I could think of to create another persona, pursing my lips and attempting to sound as stupid and sultry as I could.

  “I’m lost,” I said, drawing out each letter to full effect.

  “Lost?” he asked, staring at my lips. I slowly nodded.

  “My car broke down,” I said, “And now I’m soaking. Can you believe it?” I watched his eyes drop down from my face to my breasts and beyond. I could have been threatening his life and he still would have been too distracted to do anything.

  “Can I use your phone?” I asked. “Mine is all out of power.” He gulped and then stared at me like he was about to drool, finally nodding his head and allowing me inside.

  “So, uh, what’s your name?” he asked.

  “Gina,” I said. I turned around to take a look at him. His face gave me little reason to think that my false name had tipped him off to anything odd. He obviously wasn’t thinking with the head on his shoulders. I decided to play up my lustfulness a little more.

  “And you’re…let me guess, Seymour, right?” I asked as I moved toward him. He crinkled his face with confusion.

  “How did you know?” he asked.

  “I know a lot of things,” I said. I pretended to shiver. Seymour instantly attended to me. He placed a hand on my shoulder as if he were capable of being a genuinely concerned person.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked me.

  “I’m just cold,” I said. “Cold and wet. Can I use your phone? I’ll be out of here in no time.”

  “My phone?” he asked.

  “Your phone,” I repeated.

  “Yeah, my phone,” he said. “I could get that for you.” He ran out of the room and disappeared from my sight. While he was gone, I glanced around his living room, looking for anything that could prove useful. All I found was a row of photos hung on his wall of him and his girlfriend, to whom he apparently had no problem being unfaithful.

  Seymour was about to teach me an important lesson: People rarely ever change. I couldn’t have been staring at his photo for more than a moment before he came up behind me and shoved me onto the floor, flat on my stomach so that I couldn’t see him. He held both of my wrists in one of his hands in a painful, vice-like grip, using his other hand to pin my neck down. Seymour had taken me by surprise for the very last time.

  “You will do as I say,” he said, “Otherwise I will make you realize that I am capable of doing things that will make you wish you hadn’t come here in the first place. Do you understand me?” His words wished to frighten me, but I had already promised myself that I would never let this man scare me again.

  “Do you understand me?” he repeated. I didn’t think that he was worthy of being given a direct answer. I retreated into myself in concentration, picturing his hands as clearly as I could.

  “Alama,” I yelled. His hands suddenly released me, and he jumped back in pain.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he yelled, staring at his hands, which had been burned just like Joe’s. “How did you do that?” He clenched his hands into fists and came toward me.

  “Hariyak,” he screamed, and released two small streams of fire onto me, singing my skin. I barely even noticed the pain.

  “Who are you?” Seymour yelled. “Why are you here?”

  “Did you really not recognize me?” I asked. “Not even in this form? You didn’t think that the name that I gave you was a bit odd?”

  “Look,” he said, “Why don’t you just leave right now before things get really nasty?”

  “No,” I told him. “That’s the not the way that this works. I can’t just walk away and forget after what you did to me.”

  “What are you-” He quickly shut his mouth.

  “Dina,” he said, sounding more surprised than scared. I was about to change that.

  “I didn’t think that exile was a harsh enough punishment,” I said.

  “I’m going to warn you now, Dina,” he said, “You really shouldn’t do this. Whatever you’re trying to do here is pointless. I almost killed you once, I can sure as hell do the deed again. Except this time, I’ll do it right.”

  “Pointless?” I asked. “Really?” My momentary hesitation gave him the opportunity to gain the upper hand.

  “You think you’re so powerful now?” he said. “You’re just as helpless as you were before. I can already see the seed of darkness growing within you. Killing me isn’t going to make that go away.” His little speech caught me off guard. He came toward me faster than I could react and grabbed my throat with his hand, looking dead into my eyes. All I could see was the darkness that existed within him alone.

  “I don’t know how you found this new body,” he said, “But rest assured, it’s not going to make it through the night.” As he started to choke me, I used the last of my breath to whisper Alama. He didn’t fully let go of me this time, but loosened his grip enough for me to breathe and fight back. I held out my hand to recite the word that would make him lie still for a few seconds, Sokara, the same method he had once used on me, and froze him in his curren
t position.

  Seymour began reciting something almost as soon as I spoke the word. Immediately afterward, a force came from my side and knocked me onto the floor. An invisible attacker, no doubt summoned by Seymour, that he had waited until this moment to unleash. It did not remain invisible to me for long. I could see the faintest whisper of smoke hanging in the air, the physical manifestation of whatever ethereal spell Seymour had invoked for his protection.

  After becoming mobile again, Seymour came toward with me with a vengeance in his eye. I had little precious time in which to think of my next action. I decided that it was time for me to let go of this pretty girl persona and release the monster within me. I separated myself from the moment at hand and imagined myself tearing through the body of this beautiful redhead. With a small amount of pain, I was finally free.

  There was nothing like standing above Seymour in my true form, so shocked that he was unable to move. Seymour was no longer the grand ringmaster of the show.

  “You bitch!” he yelled. “I should have killed you when I had the chance!” Seymour seemed to regain some of his previous focus and began tossing spells at me, none of which was enough to keep me down for long, while he tried to get away. I used one of my claws to strike him against the wall, which only stopped him for a moment.

  If I had been a normal body, in any other setting, his spells probably would have been enough to incapacitate me, perhaps even kill me. But then, with my anger and adrenaline soaring to new heights, nothing could keep me from moving forward toward my goal. My mind barely registered any of the pain or damage being done to my new grotesque figure. Unfazed by any of Seymour’s actions, I clawed him a few times before letting him escape just to see him run around in desperation.