Raising Hell

by L W Rogers

  I take a deep breath and then enter. All eyes turn to me and they all rise in respect for their superior.

  “Please sit.” I encourage them with a waft of my hand. Everyone obliges apart from Gregory who is stood rigid with a look of frantic worry drawn across his ageing face. He knew my mum for longer than I can remember. She trusted him implicitly. He contacted her at least once a week, not only in a professional capacity but on a personal level too. It is no wonder he is worried.

  “Please Greg, take a seat. There is something I need to discuss with you all.” He begrudgingly sits a couple seats down from mine at the top of the large oval table. “I appreciate you all attending on such short notice- “

  “What the hell is going on, Cadence?” Geoff interrupts me. I glare at him, snapping him a look of displeasure for the interruption. Geoff always was hot-headed and short fused. He got that from his late father.

  “Unfortunately, I bring bad news.” I swallow, trying to gain some composure and saliva both of which are in short supply. My nerves are getting the better of me. That and the fact I am just about to tell them that my mum is dead, which is something I haven’t come to terms with myself. I can feel my emotions beginning to play havoc with my abilities. The dryness in my throat is beginning to bring waves of burning and my palms are starting to sweat. Goddess, I hate how they are so intertwined with my emotions.

  I briefly close my eyes to compose myself and feel the heat simmer.

  “My mum is dead!” Just like that. I blurt it out so cold and unfeeling. It’s there for all to hear. She is gone. Waves of gasps follow, everyone looking to one another as if to question what I was saying. The only one who doesn’t look surprised is Gregory. I think deep down he knew.

  “I know this has probably come as a shock to you all. I just felt you needed to know sooner rather than later, especially with the fundraiser, it – “

  “You’re still planning to go ahead?” another question.

  “I am. My mum would have wanted it that way.” I wait for a response, but none comes. They are in shock.

  “Now all I ask is that nothing is said about this matter until tonight. I will make a speech about it then. So, if anyone asks where she is, you play dumb, got it?” I look at them all in turn, ensuring I have their complete compliance.

  “We will meet again next week to discuss the formalities and legalities of her passing, but that is all for now.”

  They each leave in turn, with no sympathies or well wishes given. I shouldn’t expect much from a mix of supernaturals really. I am sure a few will try and fight for my position as leader. I have my suspicions on which ones, as did my mum when she told me of her will. The only one left is Gregory. He’s sat with his face in his hands, slumped over the chair. I take a seat next to him, turning to face him. I place a hand on his knee and he startles, as if he was in his own world and I had just rudely invaded his space.

  As he looks into my eyes, I can see he has aged, more so than I have ever seen someone age in such a short space of time. He’s a warlock and a healer. I think that is why he and my mum got along so well. They had a lot in common and I’m pretty sure an unspoken love for one another. It’s a shame they couldn’t be with one another, they would have been a perfect match, but of course the coven wouldn’t allow it, or any other coven for that matter. It is forbidden for a witch and a warlock to have such a union. The fear of what their offspring would grow to be is just too much of a risk. I hate all the rules. They should have been together. Maybe in the next life...Which reminds me, I really need to get hold of Jessie to see if he’s had any luck contacting her.

  I feel Gregory’s hand on top of mine and it pulls me back from my thoughts.

  “How did it happen, Cadence?” I pull my hand from his, taken aback a little from the question. I really don’t want to divulge the details of her demise, especially to him, a warlock, who will no doubt want vengeance of his own. I have to tread very carefully.

  “I - I came home and found her dead.” I turn my eyes from his. It isn’t a lie. The vision of the empty, soulless cavities where her eyes should have been re-appear in my memory and I shudder at it. I can tell he isn’t happy with my answer, but it will have to do for now. I stand, placing my hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry Greg, I know you loved her.” He looks up at me in surprise at my boldness. He doesn’t say a word, tears forming. With a squeeze of his shoulder and a smile I leave him to grieve. I can hear the whimpers begin as I leave the boardroom. I hate to see him like that. I yearn to be free to do the same. To grieve, to let go...but I have a job to do and my grief will have to wait some more. There will be time for grieving and a time for revenge, but for now, I have to pull myself together…for my mum and for everything she has built.

  Chapter 20

  Blaine

  “Don’t look so shocked, Blaine. If nothing else, I was gifted with the sight. I knew you were coming before you even left Hell.”

  I regard her with an air of curiosity, but also one of distrust. I’ve only just met the woman, but something definitely seems off with her. Take that weird reaction to her. Her green eyes sparkle in amusement at my stunned silence.

  “I have to say that I am wondering why you are the one who has been sent to me. You’re definitely far less outspoken than any of your daemon brethren I have encountered.”

  I think that may be it. I’ll dismiss the weird feeling that came across me when I made contact with her skin, and put my initial wariness down to the fact that this woman probably deals with my kin on a daily basis. Their dodgy energy is bound to have left its mark on her. Plus, she’s a satanic witch who specialises in the dark arts. Negative energy used for the greater evil? Enough said really.

  Valeria tsks in my general direction and flicks her crimson locks from her shoulder. She’s a bit of a fox really, far younger than I initially thought she would be, but she’s married to my ‘father’ so to speak so I won’t be going there. EVER.

  “Are you going to bloody speak or not? Why are you here, Blaine?”

  Well that’s got my attention.

  “Are you saying you don’t actually know? I thought you were some all powerful seer, or something?”

  “I ‘see’ in images, Blaine. It’s not an auditory gift. I can’t help you unless you tell me what you need. Although I am sure that you will have been warned not to piss me off. It may not end in your favour.”

  “Someone’s getting above their station aren’t they? I know you’re an ‘all powerful witch’ and so forth, but I’m a daemon. There really isn’t much you could do to me, unless you’re going to call on him upstairs to aid your case. Oh....that’s right; you can’t because you’re ‘involved’ with my old man...” I stop to catch a breath, because my filter is apparently faulty, (and I may or may not have embarrassed myself by using hand gestures to air comma her. Yes, I’ve officially become THAT daemon).

  Valeria seizes upon my silence to say five simple words; words that make me realise I’ve been a bit of a dick really.

  “I could just say no.”

  Ah shit. She’s right, of course. I need to learn when to shut the hell up. I was warned that I could piss her off, and that is exactly what I’ve done. Even though she is the epitome of calm on the outside, she must be brimming on the inside. She’s hiding it well though.

  I glance in her direction, and mouth a ‘sorry’.

  “It’s really okay, Blaine. We find ourselves in strange days; stressful times.” She smiles and the movement lights her face, making her beautiful. “So what is it you need from me?”

  “It probably seems like an odd request, but I need you to make me a body. A human form.”

  Valeria looks startled, yet chuckles. “You need a body? Why would you need a body if you have the ability to possess anyone or anything you may choose?”

  I have to be careful here. I don’t know this woman, and she’s one of The Satan’s little helpers. It’s an awkward situation to be in, as I cannot divulge
that I don’t agree with taking over a body that already has a soul. I don’t agree with it on any level. That would make it seem like I have morals, which as a daemon I shouldn’t have. So I opt for the only possible explanation I can, regardless of the fact that, once again, I’m about to make myself look like the most pathetic daemon in existence.

  “I find the process uncomfortable, Valeria. Some human souls are so strong that they make possession problematic due to the tiredness constantly caused from keeping them locked away. I don’t like it under normal circumstances, and I don’t need the inconvenience under these.”

  I think I’ve sold it to her, although now she’s standing there tapping her lip with an index finger and cocking her head as if I’m a curiosity for her to work out. I shift awkwardly under her burning gaze. It’s like she’s trying to uncover all of the secrets I’m keeping hidden, but I know she will fail.

  “You’re a strange one, Blaine, but I like you. So here’s what I’m going to do. I will help you. You can even choose the form of your new body.”

  “You can do that?”

  She laughs as though I am the stupidest being ever thought into existence.

  “Of course I can. Do you doubt my powers, daemon?”

  “Of course not. You ARE a bride of my father after all,” I backtrack.

  Valeria grins and gestures to a rock off to my left. I take a seat. I watch as she hastens to a nearby tree and pulls a long, shallow box from a hollow at the base of its trunk. She wipes a tie-dyed sleeve across the surface to remove the leaves gathered in the moisture on its surface. I shiver at a sudden drop in temperature and close my airways to the smell of mould that suddenly assaults them.

  When I re-focus on the witch, she is standing next to a large flat rock and the box is open. Next to it lie candles in an assortment of colours and a jar containing a white granular substance that I can only conclude is salt. Valeria is muttering to herself as she unpacks the contents and shifting in an aggravated manner, almost as if she is excited rather than perturbed by the ritual she is about to perform.

  I move my concentration away from her and take in my surroundings. The woodland floor is a maze of gnarled moss-covered stumps and bracken of the brightest green interspersed with the remnants of autumn leaves. The trees that surround this area are unusually tightly knit apart from where the pathway cuts through into the small clearing where I sit. Tall trunks stretch ever upwards and the branches clutch at a darkening sky, whilst waving goodbye to the fast moving clouds high above.

  By the time I re-align my gaze back to Valeria, she has the box emptied and most of the items laid down to start her spell-work. She seems lost in concentration as she thumbs her way through a large leather-bound book, which I recognise as a grimoire. A smirk crosses her face as she stops on a specific page and begins to read the hidden text, using her pointer finger to guide her way. When she reaches a certain line she taps the page three times with her pad, bites her lip in what must be anticipation, then glances up at me with a radiant smile.

  “Are you ready?” she asks, whilst shifting from foot to foot in a strange little jig.

  I nod. I am.

  She beckons with one hand whilst holding down the page with the other. The wind has picked up somewhat, enough to shift the leaves that make up the patchy carpet of the woodland, so I get why she doesn’t want to release it. As I approach she removes the box and its unused contents, patting the top of the stone to indicate that I should climb atop. I follow her direction in silence and hop up onto its freezing surface.

  “You’ll need to lie down whilst I cast the circle. I know it seems pointless with you being a daemon, but the last thing you want is any undesirables entering or attaching themselves to you. Better safe than sorry.”

  I snort my amusement, and then place my back to the cold granite. I hear Valeria’s actions rather than see them. The box is scraping on the rock nearest this one, and I can make out the sound of stone against stone, which is odd unless she is using crystals for this spell. I can see the sky through the gap in the trees, and in the distance thunder rumbles an ominous warning. I am unperturbed by the approaching storms moody music. The tempest will mean raised energy in the area when the spell-work is being carried out which can only be a good thing. The surplus of it means that there is more power available for the witch to use when it comes to making my meat suit.

  “Blaine?”

  “Uh yes?”

  “You didn’t hear a word of what I just said, did you?”

  I shake my head, keeping my gaze fixed on the sky. Valeria mutters something insulting, and gives me a shove.

  “You need to listen carefully, Blaine. Concentrate!” She snaps her fingers and I look her way.

  “Okay. Now I have your attention I will begin. This spell-work is not something that is commonly practised these days therefore I may be a little rusty. However, I have faith in my abilities and once the spell is completed you will have the things you have requested. I need to know exactly what it is you want in this body. How you wish to look, what kind of pressures it will be encountering. It will be a custom fit. Understand this; when you first possess this shell you may experience some dizziness, a lack of coordination, maybe even a little nausea as you try to accustom yourself to your new home. There may be other side effects, but I am unaware of any. Like I say, it’s been a while. Obviously, everything comes with an element of risk in this world. Things are rarely easy. So what do you need?”

  I smirk at her question. There’s nothing I like more than a custom fitted suit. I list off my requirements with a level of glee I haven’t felt in quite some time. Sadly, life below stairs was draining me, but I can feel my mischief levels rising as I catalogue the specifics to Valeria. This is going to be special. Cadence won’t be able to resist me. Even if she won’t agree to give me the assistance I need to complete my quest, I should be able to benefit in the basest way possible.

  Whilst I speak, Valeria’s smile widens to grotesque proportions. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she has ulterior motives.

  When I finally fall silent, she nods and pushes me back onto the rock. As she does so I note that the wind has disappeared, although the sky remains a moody purple-grey above. Candles have been placed strategically at the edge of the clearing, and I wonder at how I didn’t notice it before. Valeria grabs the pot of white granules and begins casting a large circle to protect the area. Whilst she does, she begins to chant quietly, and my mind fades to nothing to the strains of her wicked lullaby.

  ***

  It’s the shrieking that pulls me back to reality, kicking and screaming. And the pain. The pain is unbearable, almost as if I’m being forced into this world anew. I take in the sky through a stranger's weeping eyes and through the wonder I feel aflame. The wind is howling through the trees, and rain has begun to fall in sheets. I can feel it lying cold upon this body; I can see it lit by every lightning strike as it showers from the leaves. Thunder, deep and booming, attacks these eardrums, and I think I hear the sound of a shrill cackle taunting me in the distance. Energy pings through every nerve ending as I acclimatise myself, and it is in this moment I know the spell has worked. I shudder at the ice cold energy, and then revel in my new found nudity. It seems that I have, if nothing else, been given the physique that I requested.

  I begin to push my new body upright, but feel pressure on my chest as Valeria appears above me. She shakes her head and raises a single finger to indicate one minute. I can only assume from this that she has not quite finished, so I surrender to the knowledge that it will all be over soon regardless of what lies in wait for me.

  The next thing I see is a blood covered athame being used to scrawl some weird sigil upon my chest. Then Valeria takes the blade with both hands and raises it high above her head, before plunging it deep into my body. Everything fades to black.

  ***

  I come round gasping for breath, but feeling strangely warm. Gone is the green of the woodland and the icy cold of the ro
ck on which I lay. Gone too is the storm, with its driving rain. Instead, I am cocooned within a blanket, nestled upon a sofa, facing the soft yellow glow of a fading fire. If this is what re-birth feels like, I’ll keep it.

  Valeria is sat in a comfortable looking armchair beside the fire, watching me as I wake. I don’t know if it’s my eyes deceiving me, but she looks somehow older and less put together. Sure, she’s clad in the same tie-dyed outfit she wore before, but her hair is now more unkempt and frizzy. If I’m not mistaken there may even be the occasional white hair breaking through faded red. She certainly doesn’t present as the much younger, neater figure she cut earlier and it leaves me pondering whether she has been duplicitous with me. Which version of her is the real one? If this is the true representation of her, then why use what must, in hindsight, have been a glamour spell earlier? And if she used a glamour, what else is she hiding? Or it could just be that performing such complex spell-work drained her of her energy and this was the side effect. I’m sure I’ve heard of that happening before. Damn all these murmurings in my mind! My head is beginning to hurt from all the thoughts.

  Taking in the rest of the room, I notice a picture frame on the mantle. I have to rub my eyes, because I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. It couldn’t be, could it? I force myself to my feet and stumble groggily to the fireplace.

  I am interrupted by a loud cough, and turn to see Valeria openly gawping at me.

  “What?”

  “I think you’re forgetting something,” she chokes out.

  I look down at my naked body, and realise my mistake. Bloody hell! She could have at least rustled me up some clothes too. I cover my groin and sidle back to the sofa to grab the blanket. Once my makeshift toga is in place, I head back across the room.