What the Hex

by Constance Barker

  “It’s two thousand nineteen. Why didn’t they just take the computers?” asked Lilith as she looked at the papers strewn about.

  “They did Miss.” Sir Kain pointed at two big empty spaces on both Lilith and Sir Kain’s desks. That was where their desktops used to be.

  “Who’d do this?” asked Lilith as the reality of the situation sunk in. She put her hand on her forehead the other on her hip.

  “Well, let me see. It could have been Gregor Greymoon, the lycanthrope clans, Otter, John Yarblood, your cousin Harold or maybe even some mundane robbers. I guess it could’ve been kids too. I’m not sure miss, it could’ve been a lot of people.”

  “You’re really bad at this Sir Kain.” Lilith stepped on the papers on the floor and plopped down in her seat behind her desk. She put the skull from the Dove Bed & Breakfast on top.

  “Always happy to help.” Sir Kain laid his sword down, it balanced between the floor and the wall. Then he got to work, bent over and carefully picked up papers.

  “Do you think this was the Cold Dawn? Maybe they know we are looking for them. “

  “I don’t see how Miss. You haven’t told anyone about the job.”

  “I dunno. They could have had cameras in their lame super secret hideout.” Lilith’s chair creaked as she leaned back in it, hands on her face. “Uuuggggghhhh! We don’t have money for new computers. And we have no idea who took...wait.”

  “What is it Miss?” asked Sir Kain as he placed a stack of picked up papers to the side.

  “There’s one way we can find out who took our stuff. We can ask the Cold Dawn.”

  “I do not have their number. Nor do I know where they live.”

  “The skull.” Lilith reached into her jacket pocket and took out the skull’s lower jaw. She carefully reattached it.

  “You do not be-, where am I? What is this” asked the skull. It became animated the moment it’s jaw was returned.

  “1334 Main Street,” answered Sir Kain, still picking things up.

  “Alfred Thorne?” asked Lilith. “Are you Alfred Thorne?”

  “Yes I’m, wait, why can’t I move.”

  “Because you’re just a skull.”

  “Because I’m just a...Where’s my body, where are my hands?”

  “Bad news Alfie. You are very much dead and your body is in a bed and breakfast hidden away in a hidden pocket somewhere in space. That noggin of yours is all that’s left and I’m about to pick what’s inside.” Lilith took off her jacket.

  “I can’t believe it. They actually did it! Those...they can’t get away with this. You have to make sure that they don’t get away with this!” demanded Alfred’s skull.

  “Slow down there buddy. You can’t believe who did what exactly?”

  “The others, my brother. I knew he was a bastard but that he’d actually have me killed?”

  Jackpot! “Who are the others? The cult of the Cold Dawn?” Lilith was excited, could this talking skull be the break she and Sir Kain needed? Especially after the day she was having.

  Alfred’s skull laughed. “He’s unbelievable. It wasn’t enough for him to be on the coven high council. No, he needed to knock me off too.”

  “Come on out. Looks like this guy wants to play some hardball,” said Lilith.

  OLG separated from her younger self/ host. Immediately she floated over towards Alfred’s skull, eyes glowing and a very mean look on her face.

  Unable to actually attack or physically effect anything in the living world, OLG was not without offense. She was quite powerful when it came to dealing with anything in the spirit world which included severed heads possessed by their former owners.

  OLG reached one hand inside Alfred’s skull. He begged her not to but she went ahead and literally tore off a piece of the remains of his soul. Then she ate it.

  “None of us has an unlimited supply of souls Alfie so I advise sticking to the subject at hand. Were you a member of the Cold Dawn?”

  “I was the Cold Dawn! Emphasis on the was I suppose.”

  “Why did they kill you then?”

  “The Cold Dawn was a legend. Not a real thing. Not anymore. Hasn’t been for a very long time.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s a front, a story to tell kids around a campfire. The real evil doesn’t hide behind legends and rumors. They do their business publicly, smile for the cameras while dooming the very world that loves them. Listen closely girl, I imagine I don’t have much time.

  “Forget about the Cold Dawn. Whatever reason that you’re doing this for isn’t worth it. These aren’t clowns in robes performing ritual and ceremony by candlelight. They are the end of things. And if you’re not careful, they’ll be the end of...”

  The writing on Alfred’s skull began to glow orange. That didn’t last long because shortly after it exploded, pieces vaporized before they even hit Lilith.

  “That was-” started Lilith.

  “Unexpected,” finished Sir Kain.

  “I was gonna say informative but yeah, that too.”

  “Really Ms. Blackwater? I didn’t get much out of it. Sounded like, well if I may be frank?”

  Lilith raised one eyebrow and nodded.

  “It sounded like the rambling of a mad man.”

  “Earlier today I fought a half eagle half whatever those things were. Just a couple minutes ago we chit-chatted about an ancient magical cult with a talking skull. Seconds later it exploded into nothingness. I think ‘mad’ makes sense at this point,” Lilith spun around in her office chair. It squeaked.

  “Makes sense?”

  “Yup, perfect sense,” Lilith reached into her jacket pocket and took out Alfred Thorne’s wallet.

  “Ms. Blackwater, your parents have taught you better than to be a thief.”

  Lilith shot Sir Kain the same look one gives a dog when they won’t calm down. “I’m not stea-, well I guess technically I stole this wallet but then again, the dead don’t really have belongings do they? Rhetorical question buddy.”

  It took a moment for the connections to fire in his brain but when they did Sir Kain’s face lit up as much as it could at least. “His wallet. It’s a clue Ms. Blackwater? Isn’t it?”

  “Indeed it is dear Thomas. Indeed it is.” Lilith snooped inside the wallet, took out each card and checked it. “I hope.”

  Sir Kain stood there staring at Lilith with miscellaneous papers in his hands of living stone. He eagerly waited to see where Lilith was going.

  “So Alfred, or his skull, talked about being betrayed by his brother. Deacon Thorne is one of the most powerful members of our coven. If the Cold Dawn exists in whatever form, and has a head, it’s got to be him. We know who the leader is, which helps. Especially since Deacon Thorne is the only known member we got.

  “What else? We know that there’s trouble in paradise. Not only was he betrayed, Alfred was killed. That’s what we found in the Cold Dawn’s little club house. Surely the jerk didn’t cut off his own head.” Lilith pulled out and tossed different business cards and credit cards from Alfred’s wallet and tossed them over her shoulder.

  “This is good. But what does any of this have to do with finding Ms. Krueger?” asked Sir Kain.

  “Find the cult,” Lilith pulled out and examined a black business card. With a devilish grin she showed it to Sir Kain. “Find Ms. Kreuger.”

  Chapter 6

  “ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT to do this?” asked Klaus, Deacon Thorne’s driver/ man servant as he looked in the rear view mirror of his master’s luxury vehicle.

  “Were you there when my father died Klaus?” replied Deacon Thorne in the form of a question.

  “You know I wasn’t sir.”

  “So you didn’t hear his last words, the last thing he ever said to me or anyone?”

  “No sir,” said Klaus, his icy blue eyes looked annoyed in the reflective glass.

  “But you know them? Correct? Because I told you. What did he say,” Deacon Thorne’s hands tightened around the ornate bu
tt of his cane.

  “Don’t shed a tear, just get it done,” answered Klaus.

  “That’s right, get it done. Which is exactly what I plan on doing.” Deacon Thorne took a quiet deep breath. “Don’t wait here, you’ll draw too much attention. Be back in an hour or so, shouldn’t take any longer than that.” With that Deacon Thorne got out the car.

  “Will do, Mr. Thorne.”

  Deacon Thorne stood outside the dilapated remains of the Dove Bed & Breakfast. He looked down and checked his watch, secretly seething that he even had to be there. Whatever prompted the emergency meeting better have been dire because his time was far to valuable to waste.

  “Erom on neddih, ecnartne neddih, rood neddih.” Deacon Throne braced himself on his cane as he watched the sad former bed and breakfast transform into the Cold Dawn hideaway. The fact that it was hidden away in space did not impress Deacon Thorne in the least.

  Each step of Deacon Thorne’s expensive snake skin shoes echoed through out his cult’s little bubble in space. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. They were all of possibilities, things that went wrong that led to such an urgent get together. He had a lot riding on the Cold Dawn’s success.

  Four people, members, were already there by the time Deacon Thorne entered the Cold Dawn’s private castle. The first was a woman dressed all in white to match her hair. Over her eyes, wrapped around the back of her head was a blindfold, a yellow sun sewn into the front. Her name was Helena Sage, Madam Sage to most.

  No other family in Devils End knew more about and had more influence in the light side of the magic world than Madam Sage's family. They were the authority on what was moral and right. Yet their matriarch was in the inner circle of a very illegal cult. Conflict for sure.

  Brooding in one corner, looking over the stone encased wolf headed chimera was Morris Augustine, the short spindly profoundly creepy brother of the coven’s kennel master, Basil Augustine. Morris was the one who provided the beasts along with an encyclopedic knowledge of any little beastie that crawls or flies.

  The third and possibly most dangerous present member of the cult was Sterling Essex, of the Essex family. He was tall, slender and pale. His eyes were as black as his long slicked back hair and well groomed beard. His family put the “war” in “warlock”. Essex was the name of the coven’s muscle, their heavy hitters and most powerful clan.

  There was one other member there at the Cold Dawn hideaway, waiting. Detective Drake paced nervously back and forth with a half drunk glass of whisky in his hand. He mumbled to himself and seemed to ignore everyone else there.

  “I see my brother hasn’t arrived yet,” observed Deacon Thorne as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “Congratulations Thorne, you can see,” commented Morris Augustine.

  “Indeed I can Morris. Or though looking at you, I sort of wish I couldn’t. Look at the state of you boy.” Deacon Thorne’s emotionless eyes focused on Morris Augustine.

  Morris laughed, it felt forced. “Not all of us can afford fancy suits and be-speckled canes Deacon. Some of us have to wait for our ship to come in.” He walked over to the large floating granite slab that served as a table. He too took a seat.

  “He’ll be here soon,” added Madam Sage. “I’ve seen it.”

  “Or I told him the meeting was fifteen minutes later than it is,” said Deacon Thorne. “I just wanted to be sure he didn’t come early so we can discuss what must be done.”

  “Do we have to do it?” asked Madam Sage. “To kill, especially one of our own, is that really necessary?”

  “If spilling blood makes you a little, uneasy, you’ve picked the wrong club to join Madam Sage. Especially if you want to see it through to the end.” Deacon Thorne leaned back in his chair.

  “What we have to do is for the good of not only the coven but witch folk all over the world. It is a necessary evil. I know and accept that. But murdering Alfred Thorne, your brother, can we not find an alternative?”

  “We can imprison him,” suggested Morris. “Throw him in a cell hurtling through space never to be seen or heard from again.”

  “That would be more cruel,” pointed out Madam Sage.

  “He dies!” said Deacon Thorne as he slammed his closed fist down on the table.

  There was a brief silence before Sterling Essex, quiet up until then, broke it. “Are you sure you can do it Deacon? He is your brother, your plan, your decision. If he’s to die you’ll have to do it.” Sterling sat down directly across from Deacon. “Can you?”

  Deacon made eye contact with Sterling. “I’ll do what needs to be done. Don’t worry yourself about that.”

  “I’m not the one to be worried.” Sterling took off his black gloves.

  “No kidding. I am!” interjected Det. Drake. He put a hand rolled cigarette into his mouth with shaking fingers.

  “Don’t be. I promise you, he’ll tell us where she is before he’s...taken care of,” reassured Deacon Thorne.

  “He better. Because if she’s allowed to- , it’ll be more than my butt on the line people. If she talks to anyone, we’re done for. This ‘cult’ is done for and our plans, everything will be over.”

  “Spare us detective. All you really want is to save your career,” sneered Sterling Essex.

  “Yeah. That’s part of it.” Det. Drake sat down next to Essex. With one hand on the granite table he turned his head towards the rather unpleasant very pale man. “But isn’t that why you're here?” He lit his cigarette then waved his hand at everyone in the room. “Isn’t that why you all are here? To protect your place, your families’ places at the coven table?”

  “We’re here because I made the mistake of trusting you detective,” Deacon Thorne pointed at Det. Drake.

  “We all did,” said Madam Sage as she too took a seat.

  Deacon held out one hand. “ Dnah thgir ym ni eniw der fo ssalg a nommus.” A glass of red wine manifested about a foot above his outstretched appendage. It fell, he caught it, some of the wine spilled out.

  “She was supposed to tell the coven police that we don’t exist that we’re nothing but a rumour, a legend. Once the coven police were satisfied they’d stop looking into us and we could continue our good work. Undisturbed,” said Det. Drake.

  “Yes, but she didn’t,” added Morris Augustine. “And now, she’s gone, doing who knows what.”

  Five minutes and a good amount of arguing later, Alfred Thorne arrived. He was not alone. Like always he had his slack jawed lackeys Ennis and Maria Chevenko. The Thornes of Devils End, California and Chevenko’s of St. Petersburg, Russia were always closely tied. That was a fact that no one else in that space hideaway took into account this night.

  In life Alfred was a balding but relatively handsome man. Like his older brother he always dressed well. As did his cronies but unlike him their digs weren’t fitted or nearly as expensive. Twins, the Chevenko’s were both brunette and muscular knuckle draggers.

  “Hope you all didn’t start without me,” said Alfred with an insincere smile.

  “Oh, we wouldn’t dare.” Morris’ words dripped with sarcasm.

  “ Who do we have here?” Alfred started his rounds around the room. The Chevenko’s found their seats and sat down. Like good dogs.

  “Alfred,” greeted Madam Sage as she nodded her head.

  “As beautiful as always Madam Sage. A true pleasure. “ Alfred moved on to Morris. “You smell like a barn Augustine. Showers, a benefit of the modern age, look into it my friend. “ Next was Sterling Essex. “How are you? Still as morose and grumpy as always. Don’t bother, I can see that you are.”

  “Enjoying yourself Alfie?” asked Deacon Thorne who was not a fan of his brother’s theatrics.

  “Just couldn’t wait your turn, could you brother?” Alfred walked up behind Deacon and put his hands on his shoulders. “So, bro, I’m sure I’m not the only one wondering.” He took the chair on the other side of his brother. “Why are we here? Why did you call this meeting?”

  “
Because we have a problem.”

  “What might that problem be?”

  “You,” answered Morris Augustine. “You’ve betrayed us.”

  Dim as the Chevenko twins might’ve been, they knew those words meant trouble. Both shifted their weight in their chairs, ready to spring into action. If need be.

  “I betrayed you? What are you babbling about Augustine?” Alfred looked around the table. “What is he talking about?”

  “Where’s Detective Krueger?” calmly asked Deacon.

  “How would I know?” Alfred overacted his feigned ignorance.

  “Games and lies will get you nowhere Alfred.” Sterling Essex stood up. “Your brother here said he’d get the truth out of you. He might. But I definitely will so let’s not waste anymore of our time.”

  “Lying and games have got me this far. Why not continue?”

  “This isn’t a joke Aflie!” Deacon stood up. “Tell us where she is and I promise to make this quick.”

  “Make what quick?” Alfred examined his brother’s stoic face. “You got to be kidding me. You’re going to kill me? I know you’re cold but not that cold. Pun intended.”

  “If he won’t we certainly will,” said Sterling Essex.

  “What? No day in court? None of you have even told me what I’m accused of doing. Or are we gonna skip that part and go straight to an Essex doing what they do best?”

  “You’re a coward and a traitor! We know Det. Krueger came to you. We know you told her about our plans for the mundane world. We know that you instructed her to go to the high table at the coven, expose all of us to gain a seat.” Morris took pleasure in slinging accusations at Alfred.

  “Alfred Thorne, exposer and destroyer of the dreaded Cold Dawn. Has a nice ring to it, the description of a hero.” Sterling Essex’s body was tense, prepared to speak the words to strike down Deacon’s brother.

  “Are you all mad? Paranoid or, no that’s not it. Is it?” Alfred turned to his brother. “This is all you, isn’t it?”

  “The days of blaming me for your failings and terrible decisions are over brother. This was all you and your actions that doomed you.” Deacon Thorne was steadfast.