by R D Martin
“Yeah, like we’re going to find one of those anywhere. Anything that powerful is in a private collection somewhere or, more likely, being held by the Imperium.” Bella said, doing nothing to hide her sarcasm.
At the sound of the name, everyone in the room seemed to shudder a little. Technically the Imperium was the ruling body of the supernatural world. Members of the Imperium were never seen unless they wanted to be, and their job was to keep everything in the supernatural world somewhat contained, hiding it from the mundane world around it. Step out of line a little, no one cared. Step out of line a lot, something local would deal with it. Step out of line enough to expose the entire magical community, and the Imperium stepped in. Their methods were vicious, harsh, and final without care for collateral damage. The eruption of Pompeii had been to wipe out a growing town of ghouls. The Spanish flu was started in Paris to wipe out the overgrown Vampire population. The Imperium were the scary tales monsters threatened their children with.
“I wouldn’t send you to them in either case. No, the weapon you need is specific, and that’s the only thing me magic is sayin’.”
“Well, that narrows it down a bit, doesn’t it? Might as well say it’s a magic sword.” Most of the ancient, powerful weapons were swords or spears. Mankind hadn’t been around long enough to have ancient and powerful guns yet, though the atom bomb was a good start.
“What can I say? It is what it is.” The Pooka shrugged. “Actually, there is someone that the magic’s pointing to.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so? Who is it?” asked William.
“See, there’s the thing. The magic’s confusing. It wants me to send you to someone, but it’s telling me that this person is both a friend and an enemy.”
“So they are either a friend or an enemy? That’s as clear as mud.” As soon as William finished saying it, Bella found herself nodding in agreement.
“No, not that. It’s like, well it’s like a loan shark. Borrow money and pay it back and they’ll be good to you. Borrow money and don't pay it back, and they’ll break your legs.”
“Gotcha. So we don’t borrow money. Good advice.” William nodded at her.
“Don’t be the south end of a northbound mule,” the Pooka said, staring at William. “I’m helping you, remember?”
“He’s sorry,” she said before William could reply. “We’re, well, truth is we’re a bit lost and need your help.”
The Pooka looked at her and whatever he saw must have decided. Taking a deep breath, he held it for a moment before letting it out in a rush.
“So be it. It’s not on my head anyway. The magic’s telling me to point you to the Old Hag of the Sea. She’ll nae be hard to find. Just head down to the docks and wait for the light to disappear over the water. You’re going to have to give her a sacrifice, something bloody.”
“And she’ll give us what we need?” Bella asked, looking askance at William. The idea of sacrifice was not something she was comfortable with.
“She has what you need, or at least has knowledge of it and can point you toward it. Don’t know if she’ll just be giving it though,” the Pooka said, shaking his head as though telling them bad news.
“Thank you for your help, Mr… You know, I never got your name,” Bella said, holding her hand out.
“Call me Brandwyl,” he said, reaching for her hand.
“Brandwyl. Thank you for your help. We wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
“No problem. I hope you find the girl, I truly do. But I see trouble coming for you too. Take care.”
Both she and William turned to leave. As they walked through the doorway, they shivered as if hit with a cool breeze as the doorway removed the truth spell from them. As the door closed behind them, she heard the Pooka call out.
“Oh, and, lass. I expect a discount on me next policy.”
Before she could respond the door shut, cutting off the Pooka’s laughter. Shaking her head, she looked at William, who was tapping his watch. There wasn’t much time until dark and they needed to do some shopping before then.
Chapter 11
Standing at the water’s edge, Bella and William watched as the last light of the setting sun dipped beneath ocean waves. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d dreamed of being here, toes in the sand, at the end of a perfect date with the perfect gentleman. There were some differences. None of her dreams included the scent of rotting fish, garbage washed up onshore, or carrying around five pounds of bloody beef. There was a problem, she felt, when reality was so overwhelming that it destroyed romantic illusion.
“Ready to do this?” William asked, holding open the bag.
She nodded and, reaching in, pulled out the package of raw hamburger. Her nose wrinkled as blood pooled to the bottom corner, and she was almost grateful when William took it from her. With one pull, he tore open the plastic and tossed the meat into the water a few feet away. The lapping waves overcame any ripples as it sank through the water, coming to a halt a foot below the surface.
They didn’t know of any ritual required to summon the Sea Hag, so they both just stood there, waiting for something to happen. After fifteen minutes of nothing, Bella started to think they’d been the victims of a cruel joke. Another fifteen minutes and William let out an exasperated sigh.
“Well, that’s that, then,” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans as he rose from his spot in the sand.
Bella nodded as she fought back feelings of defeat. This was the second night since Samantha’s disappearance and Bella felt she should have found the girl by now. There was no reason for the feeling, but as sure as the sun rose and set, she’d believed she would find the girl. Now with their last hope gone, there was nothing they could do.
“Maybe,” she started. “Maybe we missed something. Maybe the Pooka said something we just overlooked.” She knew she was grasping at threads, but what else was there?
“No. No, there wasn’t anything. I’ve been going over and over what he said. Come here, wait until the last light is swallowed by the sea, toss in the sacrifice, make sure it’s bloody. That was it.”
“Well, maybe we used the wrong sacrifice. Maybe we should have used fish or something.”
William chuckled. “Maybe. And maybe I should cut off a finger and toss that in.”
Bella could understand his frustration, and even sympathize with it, but there was no call for him to be an ass, and as she felt her own anger welling up ready to burst, she would let him know that in no uncertain terms. Before she could say anything, however, another voice broke in.
“You could do that, if you wish. Though truth is I prefer the beef. I haven’t enjoyed human since that Jonah made me sick.”
They both whirled to face the source of the new voice. Standing in front of them was a woman so old and ugly that Bella couldn’t stop herself from recoiling a bit. Her skin was a tallow white as if it had never seen the sunlight, while long, sparse, scraggly hair hung from the woman’s head. Red and green seaweed mixed in with the hair, though whether on purpose or accident it was hard to tell. Regardless, it did nothing to hide her balding scaled scalp. Her face was a rictus of scars, crossing back and forth over each other so often it looked like the crone was wearing a mask. Her nose was nothing more than two slits flat against her face, and her eyes were sunken deep enough in her skull as to make them disappear. Her dress was a dirty robe weighed down by water and what appeared to be barnacles. The robe, heavy enough to force the woman to bend, moved as if something slid and crawled beneath it.
“Well,” said the crone in a voice that scratched so much it was clear she was not used to speaking. “You’ve called me, what do you want?”
Neither Bella nor William seemed able to find their voice as the crone stared at them.
“Speak, children, before I drag you to my dark home. I do not suffer fools.”
“We’re sorry,” said Bella, hoping the woman wouldn’t be the main actor in all her future nightmares. “We were told you cou
ld help us. We mean no disrespect.”
“Told I could help you? Me? Do you know who I am?” The woman straightened herself up under the weight of the robes. As she did so, she changed. Gone was the scarred face and scraggly hair, replaced by a glowing vision of perfect skin and golden hair. In the time it took her to stand straight, the crone had turned into a woman so beautiful Bella felt ugly being near her. William took a step forward before falling to his knees in the sand, staring up at the woman as if she were standing on an altar.
“I am Ceto,” the woman said, her voice transformed into a symphony of desire and heartache. “I am the mother of monsters and dangers of the deep. I am the great whale. I do not help. I devour. I…”
The spell enchanting Bella and William broke as the woman doubled over in a fit of coughing. Back to her ugly self, the crone stared at them as she regained control of her breath. Disturbed from whatever they’d been doing beneath her robes, small crabs and sea life scuttled away from her as fast as they could.
“We meant no disrespect and give all honors to the great Ceto,” Bella said, dropping to a knee. Whatever this Ceto was, it was obvious she had been strong at one time, and showing a little humility couldn’t hurt. Besides, right now she needed some extra time. Whatever spell Ceto used was still affecting William, and Bella wasn’t sure she could take the woman in a fight on her own.
Her decision was the right one. The scowl on the crone’s face never moved an inch, but her posture changed just enough to let anybody watching know this was how she expected to be treated.
“I have accepted your sacrifice, what is your desire?” Ceto intoned. The way she said it was almost formulaic, as though she’d repeated the phrase millions of times before. Bella began wondering just how old she was and made a mental note to do some research on her.
Taking her cue from the crone, Bella launched into her tale again, though this time she included the advice from the Pooka. Reaching the end of her story, she kept her head down and remained silent as she waited for a response. The quiet became so pregnant she was afraid the crone might have fallen asleep. Risking a quick peek, she caught sight of something long and slimy disappearing back under the edge of the water. As the tip of it disappeared, not even a ripple was left in its wake.
“So you need a weapon,” said the crone.
At the sound of her scratchy voice, Bella dragged her attention away from the water’s edge.
“One that only I can give you.” There seemed to be some amusement in her voice, and not for the first time, Bella was thinking there was some kind of cosmic joke being played that she wasn’t aware of.
“Yes, great Ceto.”
Bella looked sidelong at William. He’d regained his senses after she started relaying her tale and, surprisingly, had caught on. Now he was kneeling beside her in the same pose with his head down.
“I know of such a weapon. It is old, even older than I, though it will do you no good.” As she spoke a glowing ball of light appeared between the three. It rotated and stretched until it solidified in front of them. As the image rotated, Bella did her best to memorize everything about it since it was unlike anything she’d ever seen. The top half was about two feet long and made of clear crystal that radiated power. Though it shouldn’t be sharp, Bella understood the crystal could cut her soul from her body without leaving a mark. Below the crystal was some grip bound in leather and too short to be held by more than one hand. There were no jewels or ornaments added to the crystal sword. This was a sword meant to be used, not hung on a wall.
“Over time, this blade has had many names and been used by countless people. Enough blood has been spilled both for and by this blade to fill oceans.” The glowing blade was replaced with visions of fighting and sacrifice more gruesome than she could believe. At one point she watched a group of priests sacrificing men and women on a bloody altar, plunging the blade into their chests and kicking them from the top of the temple. The bodies piled below were almost enough to be a temple of their own. In another scene, men in loose white clothing fought others in armor. Blood spilled by both sides soaked desert sands until only one was left alive. That one died from his wounds as he reached for the blade. The crone’s voice changed as she described the carnage. It was as though for every wrenching death she witnessed in the vision, she was getting some pleasure.
When the images stopped, Bella had to blink away their afterimages. Her stomach turned and roiled at what she’d seen, threatening to spill its contents on the sand.
“Alas,” the crone continued, heaving a heavy sigh. “The blade of ages shattered long ago. It now lays in three, waiting to be united once more.”
“If there was no use, why show us this?” William asked. Bella, thinking the same thing, had chosen not to speak, fearing she’d lose everything in her stomach if she did.
“Fool. The blade is broken. It will do you no good until I mend it. Bring me the shards and I will mend them for you.” A light burned in the crone’s eyes as she spoke of mending the blade.
“And why should we trust you?” Bella found her voice, though when the crone’s eyes turned on her, she almost wished she hadn’t.
“Trust me?” The hag laughed. “You shouldn’t trust me. I’m a goddess. I am ageless.” The woman’s cackling sent shivers racing up and down Bella’s spine. After a moment, the laughter wound down, and the crone stared at the two of them, a mirthless smirk splitting her face. “Do not fear, I have no need of your weapon. It is of the mortal world and can only be wielded by one who is mortal. Though I wish it different, to me it is only a pretty knife.”
Whether or not it was a lie, Bella felt a most urgent need to be away from this bloodthirsty hag. “If it’s broken, how do we find the pieces?”
“Oh, I can tell you. I can tell you, but there will be a price.”
Of course there is, Bella thought. There’s always a price, but with no options left she had to ask, though she knew she wouldn’t like the answer.
“A bull. I want a bull sacrificed in my name. I want its throat slit on my shoe and I want to feel its life slipping away as blood mixes with sand.” Her eyes took on an almost manic look and her voice rose higher with every word.
“How the hell—” started William.
“Deal,” shouted Bella over him. This was her last opportunity, and she would not let him ruin it now. “But after. After the blade is whole. Only then.”
“Do not think to bargain with me, mortal. I was there when your pitiful race fell from the trees. I will be here when the last of you die.”
“Then we leave and you get nothing,” Bella said, rising to her feet. It was time to either bluff or cut and run. “How long has it been? How long since you’ve had a proper sacrifice? Since you were honored and respected?”
Bella continued and each of her questions seemed to slash at the crone, who took a step back under her barrage. It was as if she was letting off steam for the first time in a week and couldn’t help herself. All she knew was if she stopped now, she’d never have the courage to do it again. As she ran down, the immensity of what she’d done struck her heart and dropped into her stomach. She’d just yelled at an ancient one. A being so old legends had been born, forgotten and reborn about her. A being so powerful that with a snap of her fingers, Bella could find herself dead. Or worse. William was staring at her, his mouth open so wide in shock that birds could nest in there.
As the last of her words wafted away on the shifting wind, the silence between the three was deafening, broken only by the lapping of waves and creaking of wooden docks.
“Bella, I think it’s time we left,” William hissed as he plucked at her shirt.
The duo backed away from the hag, who continued to stare at Bella as if seeing her for the first time. Bella had the distinct impression no one had yelled at the crone for a long time, if ever, and the hag was trying to decide what to turn them into. Probably something small and slimy.
Reaching the top of a rise, as if it had been the plan all
along, the two turned and began sprinting across the sand toward the break in the seawall they’d used to climb down. Just as they were about to make their escape from the beach, Bella felt a sharp tug in her stomach, as though someone had put an invisible arm around her and begun pulling. Her feet jerked out from beneath her and she flew through the air, landing on her back at the hag’s feet. The impact, even cushioned by the sand, was enough to knock the breath from her lungs.
Lying in the sand, gasping for breath that didn’t want to come and knowing she was going to die, Bella struggled to stand. If the crone was going to kill her, at least she would die fighting. Most of the spells she knew required runes or chanting to direct the magic. Using hand gestures alone was advanced magic, but there was one spell, a childish one that sent a spark of static electricity to shock a person. Harmless, but if that was all she could do, well, at least she fought back.
“Deal,” said a scraggly voice in front of her in such a quiet tone Bella wasn’t sure she’d heard it right.
The spell she’d been preparing died at the sound of the voice as, for the first time since landing at her feet, Bella got a look at the crone. It looked as though the old woman had shrunk in upon herself even more than Bella would have thought possible. The power and menace the hag radiated disappeared, replaced with… nothing. Standing before her was just another sad old woman, beaten and scarred by life, bent under the weight of countless years behind her.
“Deal?” Bella asked, still torn between running for her life and feeling sorry for the miserable wretch.
The hag just shook her head, dislodging a clump of seaweed-mixed hair that fell to the sand with a wet thump.
“You’ll tell us where to find the pieces and repair them?”
Another nod.
“Why?” she asked.
There was a pause as the hag drew in a breath and sighed. Bella could feel sadness emanating from the woman like an arctic breeze rushing through an open window.
