by N. P. Martin
When Leona finally emerged from the bedroom ten minutes later, she was dressed in full tactical gear, black from head to toe as if prepped for some special forces mission. I was going to tell her the plan I had just come up with (such as it was), but instead, I said, “You look awesome. Badass.”
She threw me a sarcastic smile, still put out by my spying on her earlier, even though that wasn’t what I was doing (alright, I was spying on her, but so what? It may have been the last time I got to see that perfect body in all its glory). “You come up with a plan yet?” she asked as she tightened the velcro straps on her body armor.
“Yes, actually. We’re going in stealthy.”
She couldn’t help laughing at me. “Seriously Creed. You crack me up, you really do.”
“No really. I have a spell that will make us invisible.”
Her head tilted to one side as she raised her thin eyebrows. “Invisible?”
I nodded. “We can sneak on the island and move around without being seen. It’s the best option, believe me.”
“I’m still taking guns.”
“Of course. Everything on your person will be invisible under the spell.”
She walked over to the corner of the living room to a large steel cabinet. That’s where she kept her guns. I got up and followed her over, hovered conspicuously beside her. “I’m going to be honest here,” I said. “I seriously want you right now. Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but I can’t help it.”
Leona stopped just as she was opening the doors of the cabinet, staring straight ahead a moment like she was afraid even to look at me, which I should've known because saying what I just said probably wasn't the best thing to say to a person who I knew would have walls on top of walls around herself. I knew that because I spent the last three years doing my best to dismantle those walls, with some success, I might add. "Look, Creed," she said, finally looking at me. "We may have had some relationship going before, but the fact is, I barely know you. I have no memory of you. We haven't long met, for Christ's sake—"
Propelled by some force or latent desire, I quickly leant in and kissed her, a kiss which lasted exactly one second before I found myself gripped and slammed against the hard metal gun cabinet, Leona's forearm like an iron bar pressing against my throat, though thankfully with not much pressure. Under her steely glare, feeling like a cornered criminal, I waited on the inevitable tongue lashing. Which is why she surprised me by smiling instead. "You always this pushy?"
“Hey, you kissed me the other day, remember?”
She nodded. “I remember.”
“So…”
“What? You think that gives you permission to go full steam ahead?”
“No…yeah…maybe…”
"It doesn't. Things are weird enough right now without this." She leant in closer so her soft lips barely brushed against mine. "Patience. At least wait until I remember who you are again."
"But you know who I am." I sounded like a love sick teenager begging his first crush to go out with him. Not very dignified, I know, but I just wanted her so badly.
"No, I don't. I just know you're a magickslinger with a smart Irish mouth and a big fucking wolf for a pet. You probably drink too much as well."
“See, you know me so well.”
She smiled, shook her head, let me go. “Outta the way. I need my guns.”
A cheeky smirk appeared on my face. “I know you do.”
Roughly pushing me aside, Leona opened the doors of the cabinet to reveal an impressive array of weapons inside, mostly guns, but also a few scary looking knives, a Katana and a black truncheon with a steel ball on the end of it. She put a custom Beretta in her leg holster and one underneath her body armour. Then she looked for a minute at the rack of automatic weapons before selecting a high tech looking rifle that I had no idea of the name off. I'm not big into guns (owning only one, which I had on me) but the rifle looked military grade. She checked the weapon with the swiftness and assurance of one who has done so countless times before. As marksmen went, Leona was easily in the top ten percent in the country. A two thousand yard shot wouldn't have been a stretch for her.
As she set the rifle against the wall and began to lock up the gun cabinet again, I felt a rush of gratitude that Leona was backing me up on that crazy mission to steal a soul. She might not have known magick in the conventional sense, but she sure knew how to create her own form of magick when it came to fighting, either armed or unarmed. God help any of Belger’s acolytes should they try to accost us on the island, that’s all I could say.
"So," Leona said, locked and loaded, anxious now to get going. "How are we getting onto this island?"
“First we drive to the coast, then I teleport us over to the island itself.”
“Teleport?” She shook her head like the idea of teleportation disagreed with her. “I’ve seen The Fly you know. What's to say we won't end up a conjoined mess when we land?"
“Get a grip,” I said laughing. “This is magick, not technology.”
“Yeah, I know,” Leona said as we hauled ass out of the apartment. “That’s always what worries me.”
29
The Leap
IT HAD BEEN a while since I was outside of the city, so it was a pleasant change to see green fields and rolling hills set against an expansive sky, instead of buildings like skeletal fingers reaching up into the gloomy Blackham skyline. It was late afternoon by the time I drove the Lincoln off the expressway and started taking the back roads that headed towards the coast. On the two hour journey from Blackham to Morgan County, Leona and I discussed, amongst other things, our impending clandestine assault on the Devil's Playground (the gist of which was: get in, get out as quickly as possible), her opinions on her boss, Brentwood (good soldier, pain in the ass boss), her hatred for modern pop music (which I shared) and the fact that she was hungry by the time we got off the expressway, so we ended up stopping at a roadside diner so she could munch on a burger while I watched and drank coffee. Then we were off again, driving along winding roads, the smell of the sea air filling up the car as we got closer to the coast. Finally, we made it to Birkenhead Cliffs, driving the car over the wide stretch of grass to within several feet of the cliff edge.
When we got out of the car and walked to the edge of the cliffs, the wind was brisk and had a sharp bite to it thanks to the cold air blowing off the sea. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said as I gazed out over the vast sheet of dark water a few hundred feet below, the sun just starting to sink towards the horizon. "These cliffs are known as Maggie's Leap, did you know that?"
“No,” Leona said, as she stared hard at the island in the distance. “No doubt you’ve told me that before though, right?”
I suppressed a smile. "I might have. About a hundred years ago, a woman named Maggie Gilpenstein threw herself off the top of here, falling to the rocks below."
Leona looked down at the waves crashing against the rocks. “Some fall. Why’d she do it then?”
“She was an infamous child murderer. Apparently kidnapped and killed scores of local children before people realized it was her.”
"What was she? A witch or something?"
“Some say she was. She was apparently obsessed with the story of Countess Bathory, thought it a good idea to follow in the Countess’s footsteps and bathe in the blood of virgins to keep herself looking young. When the local townspeople found out, a lynch mob marched to Gilpenstein's house so they could burn her as a witch."
“But she did a runner before they got to her.”
“Yes. Killed herself rather than give the people the satisfaction of burning her at the stake. Henceforth, these cliffs have come to be known as Maggie's Leap. Her ghost apparently still haunts the town."
We fell silent for a moment as if listening for signs of ghostly activity, then Leona said, “Was there a reason for that story, Creed?”
I shook my head. "No. Just thought you might be interested in a little local lore."
“Okay, well
thanks for the history lesson. Are we going to start the mission now?”
I looked across the water to the island about six or seven miles in the distance. With the dim light, it was hard to distinguish anything about the island, except that it wasn't very big, a few square miles maybe, and that most of the island seemed to be covered by thick forest, at least around the perimeter. Who knew what lay beyond the dark trees?
"Sure," I said, suddenly feeling cold and empty, like my soul was shrinking because I was nothing more than a cancerous form or an empty husk to be cast off as soon as possible so my soul could exist on some other plane far away from me, the virtual stranger I was to it now. Holding back my despair, I said, "Let's get this done."
I popped the trunk on the Lincoln to reveal a large wooden box. Leona asked me if I'd brought a picnic. "Not exactly," I told her. "More like a tool kit." I opened the lid on the box, and the whole thing opened out like a fishing tackle box, with various drawers and compartments, each of them filled with a variety of glass phials, small plastic bags and other, miniature boxes. "We'll need a few ingredients out of here for the Cloaking Spell."
“I always wondered what it would feel like to be invisible,” Leona said. “Ever since I seen that Kevin Bacon movie, Hollow Man.” Leona wasn’t big into movies, but she had a thing for Kevin Bacon, almost crying when his TV show, The Following, was canceled. She even threatened to go after the executive who made the decision to cancel the show. If I hadn’t of been there at the time to calm her down, I think she might have followed through on her threat to take out the Hollywood exec. I certainly wouldn’t have put it past her.
“So you can lurk in people’s apartments unseen, watching their every private move?” I said salaciously.
"You're such a perv, Creed. Have you done that? Wait, don't answer that. I don't want to know."
I chuckled to myself as I selected a phial of dark blue liquid from the box, along with a little jar of greenish-black ointment. I held up the phial of blue liquid. “We need to drink this first. Just a drop will do.”
“What is it?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes,” she said, seeming unsure now.
“It’s the blood of a very rare fish that can only be found in the River Troyden, which runs through Babylon. The blood is then mixed with pure dream essence found in pools on the Astral Plane.”
“That’s it?”
“And semen from a sewer rat.”
Her mouth dropped in disgust. “That’s gross. You’re just kidding about that, right?”
"Sure." I held up the little round jar of ointment for her to see. "This is mostly plant matter, from various plants."
“And what else? Piles from a demon’s asshole?”
I stared at her a moment then shook my head. “That’s disgusting. Nothing so foul. Just the crushed up scrotum of a recently deceased man and the armpit hair of a three hundred pound Russian weightlifter."
“Now you’re just taking the piss.”
"I know I am," I said, removing the cork from the glass phial of blue liquid. “At least about the armpit hair. The crushed ballsack is still in there.”
“Jesus,” she said. “Magick is disgusting.”
“Can be.” With Leona watching with a grossed out look on her face, I put the phial to my mouth and supped a small amount of the blue liquid inside, unable to keep from screwing my face up at the bitter, acrid taste. “Hmm, lemony.”
"I'm sure it's more than that." Leona took the phial from me and immediately put it to her mouth, her face soon twisting against the sharp and bitter taste. "Jesus, that's worse than the piss we used to drink in Iraq."
"You used to drink piss? I hear it's good for the skin." With a sardonic smile, I took the phial from her and put it back in the box. Then I opened up the jar of ointment and scooped a small amount out with my fingers before applying the waxy lotion to both my cheeks.
“This may seem like a stupid question,” Leona said. “But if we’re both invisible, how are we supposed to see each other?”
“That’s what the accompanying spell is for. I can tailor it how I want. Magick can be pretty flexible in that way.”
She nodded as she took the jar from me and made a face as she put some of the contents on her fingers and did as I did, rubbing it into the skin of her cheeks. “This shit smells awful. All I can think about is that I’m rubbing some old guy’s scrotum on my face.”
“Not for the first time, eh?” I laughed. Leona wasn’t amused as she threw the jar back at me. “I just mean that I’m fairly old by normal standards, and we have slept together and my balls—”
“Yes, Creed, alright. Enough. I get it. I’m going to get my rifle from the car now. Don’t be surprised if I shoot you with it.”
I chuckled again as she walked away and I put the jar back in the box, closing the lid before slamming the trunk closed. "Get everything you need before I do the spell."
After attaching a suppressor to the end of he rifle, Leona attached the rifle to a strap on the front of her. “Shouldn’t you be wearing armor as well? I’m sure there’s going to be guns on that island. Invisible or not, you still might get shot.”
"I have my fetching trench coat, don't forget. Demon skin is as good as any armor you could give me."
Daylight was beginning to fade, and the sky was taking on an ominous appearance as dark clouds gathered, making the water look almost black. As I looked out at the island barely visible now in the distance, I thought about Hans Belger. Did the old Warlock know we were coming? He certainly would when we landed on the island, that was for sure. It remained to be seen what his response to our trespassing would be, though. Something told me he wouldn't be waiting for us with tea and biscuits.
I called Leona over and put my hand on the back of her neck, pulling her close, so our foreheads were touching, our eyes looking into the others for a moment before I closed mine and started reciting the spell that would make us invisible, at least for the next few hours or so. After that, the spell would fade, and we would be exposed to the world again. Hopefully, we would have completed our mission before that happened. “That’s it,” I said, stepping away from her. “It’s done.”
Leona looked down at herself like she half expected her body to have disappeared. “I don’t feel any different.”
“You won’t, except when other people look right through you.” I grabbed her arm then. “Ready?”
She nodded once. “Ready.”
"Devil's Playground, here we come…"
30
The Devil’s Playground
WE TELEPORTED TO a stretch of sandy beach on the north shore of the island, our boots sinking into the soft, wet sand as we landed, the stiff breeze coming off the choppy water rapidly cooling our skin. Leona still held onto me as she tried to get her bearings again. “That was a rush,” she said as if we had parachuted out of a plane thousands of feet up.
“It takes a bit of getting used to,” I said, as I looked around for signs of life, seeing nothing but rocks, trees and sand. “The dizziness will stop shortly. It’s just your brain readjusting and trying to make sense of the fact that it was somewhere else a second ago.”
Leona let go of my arm and shouldered her rifle, keeping the barrel pointed downward as she surveyed her surroundings, looking every inch the professional soldier. “Seems quiet.”
“So far. No doubt that will change when we move further inland.” No doubt at all. I was pretty certain that Belger knew we were there on his private island. Any Warlock or Mage worth their salt would have been able to detect intruders immediately, even if said intruders happened to be invisible to everyone but themselves.
Leona seemed concerned as she stared towards the dark woods about ten yards away. There was something ominous about those woods like an evil presence lurked there. “Something isn’t right about this place.”
“Your instincts are spot on as always.” I stared down the beach toward a rocky outcrop that jutted into the
water like a huge demon mouth. “There’s a lot of darkness here.”
“Darkness?”
“Evil.”
We exchanged glances like we were crazy even to go to the island in the first place. Which we were, of course. Batshit crazy, although Leona didn't know the full danger. How could she? If she knew magick like I did—if she knew the full extent of its dark potential in the hands of someone like Hans Belger—I doubt she would have come with me. Or maybe she would have. One thing about Leona was that she was loyal, and despite only knowing me for a few days, she seemed more than willing to help. When I first met her three years before, it took her nearly a year before she displayed the kind of loyalty towards me that she was exhibiting now. I guess I should have been grateful, but I still wondered what was different. Was it because on some level she knew I was telling the truth, or because deep down she still remembered me, even if those memories were nothing more than hard to pin down impressions? As curious as I was, it wasn't the time for indulgence. It was a time for focused action so we both could stay alive.
“Alright,” Leona said, her slender fingers curling around the stock of her rifle. “Are we going to do this? I want off this island as soon as possible.”
I didn't blame her for wanting to leave. So did I. The presence of dark magick on the island was palpable, more so to me because I still bore the stain of it inside me, and that stain was acting like a magnet to the black magick that permeated every square inch of the island. Drawing the magick to me, which demanded access so it could fill me up and consume me once more. Leona threw me a look and asked if I was alright. "The magick here is corrosive," I said. "I can feel it burning my skin."
“I don’t know about magick, but this place gives me the damn creeps.”
“We’d better get a move on then, before—”
“Before what?”
“Before someone or…something, comes looking for us.”
“Very reassuring, Creed. Let’s move to hell out.”
