by Sam Cheever
It really galled me to admit she’d been right.
In the northernmost position was a green candle, to represent the Earth if I remembered correctly. The candle to the east was yellow and represented Air. To the south, red for Fire and the fourth candle, to the west, was blue for Water.
The representations of the god and goddess were formed from clay and looked like something a five-year-old or prehistoric human might have created.
Not a fancy altar but one which I assumed would adequately do the job.
The lead witch started chanting and the robed figures around me began to move out of the firelight. I turned in surprise as Raoul and I were left standing alone with the leader, who was staring at the altar and chanting in a deep, hypnotic voice. I looked at Raoul and tipped my head toward the edge of the circle but he gave his head one, quick jerk in the negative and reached into his pocket. He pulled out two crystals and handed one to me.
The other celebrants had started returning. Each of them was carrying something, which they proceeded to place on the altar. Pots of flowers and bunches of berries joined leaves and even a few vegetables on the altar’s surface.
When everyone else had placed their gifts Raoul nodded at me and we approached, placing our crystals in an open area at the center of the altar.
I placed my crystal next to a bunch of limp, brownish broccoli. The witch that contributed that was apparently a real hitter. Probably just cleaned out the food prep area and brought stuff he was gonna throw out anyway.
As soon as we stepped back the chanting stopped and the lead witch turned away from the heavily laden altar. He swung his gaze around the coven, ending with Raoul and me. “Our altar brims with life. Our hearts overflow with joy. And our spirits have joined in peace.”
He raised his arms, again his gaze continuing to sweep the circle of celebrants.
The leader nodded to a witch who was holding what looked like a small caldron with a pouring lip on one side. The witch walked to the edge of the firelight and started pouring a crystalline white substance on the ground. She walked a complete circle around the altar and coven with the salt and then turned back to the lead witch, nodding to indicate that the circle was complete.
Then the lead witch turned back to the altar and placed one hand on each of the god figurines as if in blessing. With lowered head he spoke in a loud and sing-song voice. “The moon is new and awaits our claim. All fault is cleared, no more lay blame. Let this our fondest hope it yield, that all our blights and wounds be healed. And all within this clearing see, our souls’ rebirth and blessed be.”
He turned to the coven and raised his arms like a holographic preacher on tour. “As I have said so mote it be.”
The crowd around us repeated, “So mote it be.”
Raoul’s voice rose above the rest as he repeated the incantation with unnatural fervor. I nudged him with a well-padded elbow and he struck back with a bony one but the effect was lost in my padding.
The formal portion of the program seemed to be over at that point and everyone started talking and mingling. Some of the witches dropped their hoods and most of the gathered coven had smiles on their faces and a sparkle in their eyes.
I turned to Raoul and murmured softly, “Doesn’t look like a particularly aggressive or power hungry crowd to me.”
He frowned down at me and picked at his chin warts. “You know as well as I do, Astra, that looks are almost always deceiving. I trust my information on this.”
I shrugged and stepped into the crowd. It was time to do some poking and prodding to see what I could come up with.
An hour later all I had come up with was a couple of invitations for tea that I hadn’t wanted to accept and a couple of recipes for dishes that I didn’t want to try. I was having a particularly hard time figuring out how any of the giddy, harmless looking people within that circle could have even constructed the devious plot Raoul had laid out to me, let alone put it into action.
One of the aforementioned harmless people was the rosy cheeked woman who’d trapped me near the fire and seemed determined to keep me there through pure strength of good will. The woman’s very happiness seemed tied to my acceptance of an invitation for luncheon at her house, which I had no intention of ever accepting. I forcefully extracted myself and hurried away, looking around for Raoul.
I saw him in a group on the other side of the altar, conversing with several men who still wore their hoods. Raoul was frowning and he kept nodding his head and looking around guiltily. His eyes met mine and I started forward, only to stop dead at a quick negative shake of his head.
Feeling a little desperate, I glanced around at the people surrounding me, wishing I could just disappear. It occurred to me that I was infinitely more comfortable around devils and demons and such than I was around fairly normal, happy people. What that said about me I didn’t want to examine very closely. But I had a sneaking suspicion I could blame that particular gene on my mother’s side of the family.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and closed my eyes, wishing I could sprout wings and fly away. But instead I took a deep breath, fixed a smile I didn’t feel on my face and forced myself to turn.
I almost choked.
The Mx. Coltrans stood before me, beaming happily and reaching for my pudgy hand. As they grasped my hand and stepped closer to welcome me to the coven, I closed my mouth and gulped, hoping my disguise was good enough to withstand scrutiny from only inches away.
Of course they would have to be close talkers.
Hearing nothing of what they said, I just kept nodding and smiling, praying they’d get bored and go away. I didn’t speak much because I wasn’t sure I could disguise my voice enough to fool them. But my mind was working at a frenetic pace, trying to make sense of the new development. Obviously the Coltrans were not ordinary human types who got pulled into a vigilante group without realizing what they were getting into. They were members of a coven. A rival coven to Angel City. And they had misrepresented themselves to me.
If they were witches, why had they sent Margaret into the demon’s lair and why had they needed me to get her out? None of it made sense. Some part if not all of it had to be lies.
Which was why I suddenly realized Raoul was right.
They weren’t the carefree, harmless people they appeared to be. At least not all of them. I was pretty sure Luncheon Lady was annoyingly harmless, but obviously some of the people in the Devil’s Glenn coven had secrets. And I couldn’t help wondering if some of those secrets weren’t destined to bite me in the ass.
~SC~
On our way home, Raoul confirmed that his information had been right about the Devil’s Glenn Coven. The group of men he’d been talking to had admitted they were trying to pull Angel City into their coven. And, while they hadn’t come right out and admitted they were planning on doing it through nefarious means, they’d told Raoul Angel City’s coven would be taken by surprise when it happened and that some of them probably wouldn’t survive the takeover.
Raoul had, of course questioned them about the use of the word “survive” but they’d just clapped him on the back and told him he had nothing to worry about. He was about to join a coven that would be larger than any coven in the country. And, by extension, one that would have more power than any other.
Knowing what I did about the coven’s plans, the information did not give me the warm and fuzzies.
~SC~
The first dead demon was found on the street outside Demonica the next morning. She had been one of my targets. Meaning I’d been hired to vanquish her for one of my clients.
When I found her, she was a fairly large green puddle on the sidewalk.
I learned of her unscheduled demise when my client called to thank me for vanquishing her. While I was surprised to learn that the dead demon had been on my target list. I was even more surprised when I figured out she’d been vanquished through black magic. I could still feel the magic in the air when I arrived at the scene.
; It was extremely rare for a witch to have enough power to vanquish demons so thoroughly. They could, of course, kill dark world types with black magic but it would take a very powerful witch to turn a demon into a puddle. I’d only heard of it happening once, a long time ago and that had been considered a giant fluke. A witch of some power had been temporarily inhabited by a very pissed off demon spirit, which had vowed revenge on his unfaithful demon girlfriend. He and his host had found the errant girlfriend in the arms of her new beau and the Paranormal Police had found them both...or what was left of them...a couple of days later when the landlord called in to report a strange green haze in the seemingly abandoned apartment.
When condensed, both demons had fitted into a small glass jar.
I called Raoul on the televisual when I got back to the office. He didn’t know about any coven activity the previous night and had no information that they’d targeted any demons. I hung up feeling like there was something I should know about the whole situation but was unable to put my finger on it.
As I struggled to catch the elusive thought that was banging around in the unreachable depths of my brain, the air around me changed and I looked up into a pair of beautiful blue eyes, over scored by lustrous, black lashes.
My Dialle looked at me from the other side of my desk. Appearing every inch the great unifier, except for the angry light in his vacillating eyes.
Two thousand years ago a prophecy had been spawned, proclaiming that one day, a great unifier would come to the dark world. The highly anticipated individual was destined to join forces with the side of good to bring the dark and light worlds together. That unifier, the prophecy said, “Would gaze upon the world with eyes that vacillate as the heavens, blue as the day and black as the night.”
It went on to say, “This unifier of dark and light will touch upon the good to save humankind, while preserving his heritage to ensure the continued existence of his own.”
According to the prophecy the great unifier would show himself through a selfless act that would endanger his own people while saving humankind. All signs pointed to Prince Dialle being the unifier. Even the celestial army thought he was probably the prophesied one. He’d recently worked with us to protect the human world from a deadly plot by King Nerul, of a rival devil court, to gain unprecedented power that would have made humankind expendable.
But the prophecy also spoke of a false unifier. And the selfless deed still hadn’t been performed.
I did a mental shrug and asked the first thing that came into my mind, “Hey. Did you get the hostages wiped and de-swiped?”
He reached for my hand, “The human cattle are of no consequence. You must come with me.”
I opened my mouth to speak but found myself locked in time and space with my mouth hanging open.
Shit! Why was dignity such an elusive thing in my life?
We landed in King Dialle the First’s chambers. As soon as I could move I closed my mouth and prepared for battle, looking for the king in his usual spot in front of the wall of windows. He wasn’t there. My Dialle paced away from me, moving quickly to his father’s desk.
I watched him with narrowed eyes. He seemed extremely agitated.
He turned back to me when he reached the huge, onyx desk. His eyes were black as night and filled with anger. “He’s gone.”
I frowned and rubbed my arms, which had risen in bumps as I stood there. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
Dialle swept an arm around the room. “Do you see the king? He is gone. He has disappeared.”
I swept my gaze around the room and shrugged. “Are you sure he just didn’t go out for a jumbo cup of espresso, extra dark like his soul?”
His response was to glare at me. “Don’t you feel it?”
As soon as he said the words it hit me. What I’d been feeling since I’d been shifted into the room. My skin had prickled with the oily evil residue in the air and I’d been too busy watching Dialle to notice.
“Black magic.”
He nodded.
“But not simple black magic, this is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It seems to be laced with something...more...”
“Something not of this realm perhaps?” Dialle said with an impatient look in his eye.
I got the distinct impression he was waiting for me to complete a mental journey that he’d already completed.
And I was obviously not getting there fast enough.
“It feels like.” I stopped because I didn’t want to say what it felt like. “It can’t be.”
His face turned deep red with anger. “Can it not, halfling?”
My heart beat faster and I took a step back. The temperature in the room had risen several degrees with Dialle’s anger. I didn’t think he’d hurt me. But I wasn’t really sure. And I’d have been stupid to ignore the warning gong in my head. “How is it possible?”
“You tell me.”
I shook my head, wondering if I could manage the shift out of there and get to the Viper before he could follow me. Then he took an angry step forward and I stopped wondering.
My magic surged forward and took thought right out of the picture.
I left the plane of awareness and prayed I’d land where I wanted to land.
I entered the physical plane again somewhere above the Viper, landing hard on the shiny red surface of my air vehicle, splayed like road kill across its glossy hood. Embarrassment heated my face but I had no time to indulge it. I slid quickly off the Viper, screaming an urgent command, “Open.” I threw myself into the cool, black leather interior and shouted, “Secure and climb, optimum speed.”
We shot out of the vehicle docking garage at breakneck speed, narrowly missing a sleek, silver air sedan as it slid sedately into the underground space, its unsuspecting owner glancing around for a suitable space to dock the expensive vehicle. The poor woman shrieked inaudibly when the Viper swung onto its side with its bottom facing the spotless sedan and squeezed through a too narrow space on a roar of repulsed air that blew the sedan sideways into the other vehicles hovering there. As the Viper cleared the garage I punched in the directional setting for my father’s house and coded the car for masking so my angry devil prince couldn’t find us.
Then I sat back and let my thoughts roil in my head. It was impossible. It just couldn’t be true.
But deep inside I knew it was. Magic left a signature behind that could be tied to its user. Some signatures were vague or common, hard to assign to a user. But some were more easily recognized.
His signature was too unique, too special. And hers was unmatched in power and complexity among her kind. I knew it was true. What I couldn’t possibly imagine was why.
They could barely stand to be in the same room together. And they had never joined forces on anything that I knew of. They certainly wouldn’t do it to kidnap King Dialle.
My father’s house loomed ahead of the Viper like an ancient, hillside fortress. It was built to resemble the home my father had been born into in the thirteen hundreds. High above the Angel City River, the walls rose straight and unadorned to the sky, broken occasionally by windows of leaded glass.
Just under the roofline, on the river side, a wide catwalk cut the expanse of the stark wall along the entire width of the home. The catwalk widened out on one end, standing out from the roofline in a wide arc that overlooked the raging waters below. It was there that I settled the Viper down.
As I exited I saw him.
He stood several feet away from me, in full Seraphim regalia. His gold and silver robes rustled gently in the ever present wind above the river and tangled softly around his legs, which were wrapped to the knees in delicate golden cord.
His red-blond hair curled at his neck and flecks of gold sparked from it as the sun caressed the beautiful strands, making it look, as it always had, like his halo rode above his golden head.
He stood completely still, his arms hanging straight down his sides. He watched me walk to him with an impassive look. I’d seen
the expression often growing up and I called it his omnipotent angel face. It was both awe inspiring and extremely unnerving. Especially in the face of a guilty conscience, which I fortunately didn’t have at the moment.
I didn’t think.
Stopping in front of him, I looked up into his angelic face. “Father, what hast thou done?”
He stared back at me, the only emotion he allowed me to see was in his eyes. They were filled with the usual pain and touched with something that looked like worry. “Bless thou, Astra.”
I shook my head. “Nay. Do not bless me, Father. Thou hast forsaken me on this.”
He stared at me for a long moment, unwilling and unable to lie to me. “You do not understand, child.”
“Then explain it to me.”
He looked briefly skyward, something like fear touching his face, and then turned toward the house and offered me his hand. “Come.”
We entered the cool, dim interior of the fortress-like home in a stiff, uncomfortable silence.
I felt the magic in the air as soon as I stepped inside.
Looking around I noted the same clean lines and sparse furnishings I remembered from my earliest childhood. It was a décor not created for comfort as much as for basic need. The hard stone floors held few rugs, located in strategic areas such as before doors and under clusters of sleek, clean lined furniture. One wall was dominated almost entirely by an enormous, open-mouthed stone fireplace, which had always burned, night and day, for as long as I could remember.
Memories flooded me. Recollections of sitting on a soft rug in front of that huge fireplace, practicing small magics with my father and talking for hours at a time. In that moment, my heart softened toward him. We’d always been so close—he’d always been my hero.
But my love for him had never been the issue.
I walked over to the fireplace, welcoming the warmth as the chill in my heart spread through my body. My father’s robes rustled softly as he moved closer.
“Astra, what I’ve done is against all that I believe in.”
I fought the urge to cry. My father had always been the best of everything that was in me. If he fell into decadence I’d have nothing left to cling to in my daily battle with my dark side.
