Personal Demons

by Phoebe Ravencraft

  Aurelia regarded her carefully. Her ice-blue eyes barely blinked. A shiver ran up Felicia’s spine.

  “Searching for le pére is de best way to find ça,” she said at last. “But li elides mo. And time is short. Since to have de intimate connection, perhaps to can astral project.”

  Felicia’s eyes about fell out of her head. Astral project? Who the hell did this woman think she was? As much as she would love to have magical powers, Felicia was a quote-unquote normal person. She couldn’t send her spirit into the ether.

  “Damn,” Ash said, “I didn’t think of that.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble,” Felicia said, “but I can’t do that. Aside from playing the wizard in our D&D group, I don’t know any magic.”

  “Mo can astral project,” Aurelia said. “Mo can take twa with.”

  “What?” Felicia whispered, her mind a war between optimism over finding Sassy and fury that they hadn’t tried this before.

  “Mo knows not la femme; to do. With de paramour as guide through de ether, mo may have chance to locate ça.”

  Felicia blinked several times. The damned Creole was difficult to understand, but she thought she had the gist.

  “Okay, fine,” she said. “How do we do this?”

  “Nouzót must dormir.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll have to sleep, Felicia,” Ash said.

  “Sleep!” Felicia roared.

  “Both must,” Aurelia added.

  “Ash,” Felicia said, throwing up her hands in frustration, “I could not sleep if I tried. It’s early afternoon, and I’m totally wired. And why the hell do I have to sleep anyway?”

  “To project, you must enter an altered state of consciousness,” Ash explained. “It’s more like entering a trance than actual sleep, but you cannot be aware of the physical world. Your mind must look outside your body.”

  Felicia wanted to cry. He was asking the impossible.

  “But I don’t know how to do that, Ash,” she wailed. “I’m just a regular person. I’m not a real wizard.”

  “To do not have to ken how,” Aurelia said. “Mo will draw tó out. But to must dormir to be taken.”

  Felicia looked back and forth between the two of them. What they wanted was impossible.

  Maybe Sassy had been right. Maybe she was better off leaving Felicia behind. There was no for Felicia to help her. Not a thing she could do other than worry. She’d been right to call in Ash. He at least knew what to do. Maybe she should let him have Sassy. She belonged in his world, not Felicia’s.

  “I can’t do it, Ash,” she said. “I don’t have … I don’t have the skill.”

  “You don’t need skill, Felicia,” he replied. “If Aurelia is right, you just need to sleep.”

  “But I can’t just fall asleep on command,” she protested. “Maybe it’s different for incubi and mediums, but I have to relax. I have to be tired.”

  Ash smiled sympathetically. Dear God, it was cute and charming. No wonder Sassy was so attracted to him. Felicia had no interest in him – he was a man. But for a bisexual like Sassy? It was easy to imagine how that simple expression could set her heart ablaze.

  “I’ll hypnotize you,” he said.

  Her mind snapped instantly out of her jealous reverie. Hypnotize her?

  “What?”

  “I know how,” he said. “I’ll put you into an hypnotic sleep. Then Aurelia can lead you out of your body.”

  She blinked several times. He couldn’t be serious.

  “Ash—” she began, but he cut her off.

  “Listen to me, Felicia. If you listen to me, if you trust me, I can put you under. Then Aurelia can help you find Sassy. Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that why you insisted on coming along? So you could find her? I can help you do that.

  “But you can’t fight me. Hypnotism doesn’t work like in the movies. It can’t be used to strip someone of their will. You have to submit. You have to trust.”

  She sighed. What choice did she have?

  “Fine,” she said. “What do I have to do?”

  Aurelia rose. She walked wordlessly to the table and rummaged in the giant bag she used as a purse. After several seconds, she withdrew a gold chain. She faced Felicia.

  “Lie down on de bed,” she said.

  Uncertain what else to do, Felicia obeyed. Aurelia practically glided across the floor and laid down next to Felicia. She tied the chain around Felicia’s wrist, and the wound the other end around her own.

  “Whatever to do, remove not de chain. If mo lose tó in de ether, to will never get home.”

  Felicia swallowed hard. Dear God, what was she about to do?

  “Okay, Felicia,” Ash said. “Close your eyes.”

  “Don’t you need to swing a watch or something in front of me?” she asked.

  “No, that’s only to get you to concentrate. Just close your eyes and listen to the sound of my voice. Only my voice.”

  Felicia sighed again. This felt weird and stupid. Telling herself it was what she had to do to rescue Sassy, she flushed the doubt from her mind.

  “Okay,” she said. “Go ahead.”

  “Listen to me voice,” Ash intoned. “You can only hear my voice. Let the world recede.

  “The bed beneath you is getting softer. Softer. It is the softest bed you’ve ever felt.”

  That was pretty much a lie. The thing was rock hard.

  Damn it, Felicia. Stop fucking around and listen to Ash. You need to save Sassy.

  “Soon, it seems that your body could just slip inside the mattress, as though it were barely even there,” he continued.

  Felicia imagined it. She tried to see the bed as a thing that only sort of existed. As though it were a portal to another world she could penetrate with enough magic.

  “It is like lying on a sandy beach,” Ash said. “The ground is warm, comfy. The grains separate, pulling farther and farther apart. Farther and farther. Wider and wider.

  “Soon they are barely close enough to support your weight. Let yourself sink beneath them. Let yourself drift down into warm, comfortable darkness.”

  He barely had to tell her. The bed was gone, she floated in the air.

  And then she fell away into nothingness.

  Fifteen

  The truck was not in good shape. The malefaxians hadn’t killed it, but they had fucked it up eight ways from Sunday. It wobbled as we rolled west on I-80, and the engine made this high-pitched whining sound that I’d never heard come from a correctly operating vehicle. I was no car guy – machines in general are not my strong suit. But even I knew that our well-used F150 was unlikely to reach Colorado in this condition. Hell, it would be lucky to make it to Nebraska.

  We’d only been going for about ten minutes, when black smoke started coming out of the hole in the hood. At first, they were just tiny wisps small enough to let me hope that it was nothing.

  But it didn’t take long for the truck to start belching out smoke like it was some sort of Nineteenth-Century factory. Before long, it was difficult to see from all the black vapor.

  “I believe we have a problem,” Devlin said.

  “No, shit,” I replied. “You’re a damned genius.”

  My heart was pounding. What the hell were we going to do? We were literally in the middle of nowhere. We were, like, seventy-five miles from Omaha, which was the next population center of any note. How were we going to get help?

  “There is a truck stop at this next exit,” Devlin said. “I think we’ll have to pull off there.”

  “Assuming we make it that far,” I replied.

  Pouring pollutants into the sky at a substantially increased rate, we chugged down the Interstate and got off at Exit 76 to Adair. By the time we got to the end of the offramp, the truck was seriously complaining. The engine made horrible sounds, and I was convinced it was going to die in the middle of the road.

  Instead, Devlin managed to get it into the parking lot of a truck stop. It coughed and wheezed and someh
ow made it into a space. Even after Devlin shut it off, the engine continued to pour thick, black smoke into the air. I got out and stood looking at the carcass of what was obviously a dead vehicle. Devlin joined me.

  “Do you suppose we can find someone here to repair it?” he asked.

  I turned to him with my best are-you-insane look locked firmly on my face.

  “Devlin, I don’t know what world you live in, but any mechanic is going to take one look at the damage on the body and ask us what the hell happened. What are you planning to tell him?”

  He didn’t answer. He nodded a few times and continued to stare at the mess our ride had been reduced to.

  “Do we attempt to buy another vehicle then?” he asked.

  I looked around. [GOOGLE EARTH FOR SCENERY] Aside from the gas stations and the Interstate, the only thing I could see was miles and miles of farmland. I didn’t even see a house or silo from here.

  “Where are we going to find one?” I asked.

  Devlin searched the horizon the same as I had. He faced me at last.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  Shit. I hadn’t really expected him to have an answer, but this was his party. He’d brought us out here. Now we were stuck. What the hell were we supposed to do?

  “If you’ve got any ideas, I’d love to hear them,” I said.

  He didn’t reply. Great.

  “Do we steal a car?” I asked.

  “That would be unethical.”

  “Plus, it’d be hard to get away with,” I said. “There’s little to choose from here, and cruising down the Interstate, it’d be pretty easy for the cops to catch us.”

  I fell silent. Damn there had to be something.

  “We could hitchhike, I suppose,” I offered.

  “What is that?”

  “You walk along the side of the road and stick out your thumb until someone picks you up.”

  “Does that work?”

  “It always does in the movies. But it seems kind of dangerous. We have no control over who picks us up.”

  “I believe they would find your sword intimidating.”

  I nodded again. Shit. I really had no idea what we were gonna to do. We were supposed to be on this big mission to Denver, this exciting road trip to kill a demonic prince. Instead, we were stranded in the middle of nowhere. What the hell did we do next? This never seemed to happen in the movies. Jesus, it was just like the rest of my life – stuck with no way out. I sighed.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” I said. “You should come up with a brilliant plan by the time I come back.”

  “I’ll attempt inspiration,” he said.

  I cocked my head.

  “Why, Alistair Devlin, was that a joke?”

  He looked blankly at me.

  “What do you mean?”

  I shook my head. Apparently, snark and sarcasm were my sole province.

  “Never mind,” I said.

  I turned and headed for the truck stop.

  Inside was a bright display of everything you might need while out on the road.

  Two walls were covered in coolers with drinks. There were racks and rows of candy, snacks, and other assorted things I was accustomed to seeing in the C-stores in the city. But there was another whole section that contained car parts, motor oil, windshield wipers, CB’s, movies, audio books, and other stuff you might need if you were on the road all the time. It was kind of fascinating. This was definitely a convenience store, but it was geared towards truckers, and it was stocked with stuff unique to their lifestyle.

  Much of it was decorated in American flags or eagles. T-shirts and do-rags and sweatshirts in red, white, and blue that said things like, “These Colors Don’t Run”, and “Land of the Free Because of the Brave”.

  There was also a fair amount of Jesus-y shit. Crosses you could hang from your rearview mirror, pictures of the Standard White Son of God, signs that read, “As for me and my house, we shall serve the Lord,” and “God Bless This Home.”

  It all felt weird. I mean, they had this same kind of stuff in the city. You could always find a street-corner preacher or a billboard exhorting you to repent your sins and believe in God. But in a large urban center, that kind of religion was spread out over a large space, you know? Here, in this little truck stop in the middle of the prairie, it was concentrated – real in your face. It felt odd somehow.

  And since I was absolutely not the target audience for this shit, the whole place made me feel uncomfortable, like everyone was looking at me as if I was some kind of alien.

  People milled around the racks of merchandise. A fat, White trucker with a greying goatee and wearing a black, Harley Davidson t-shirt and faded jeans looked over the motor oil. A family of White people argued over what kind of candy bars everyone was allowed to have.

  And there was this teenaged girl with a dirty face, and short ash-brown hair, wearing a purple, plaid, flannel shirt untucked and unbuttoned over a black camisole and black jeans. She seemed to be by herself, and she stared at me as I passed her on my way to the restroom. She had green eyes that seemed to bore into me. It was unnerving.

  I kept going, walking down a short hall. To my left was a TV room. To the right was a place for showers. Again, things they didn’t have at the C-stores in Cincinnati. Out on the open road, these sorts of amenities were necessary. It was a whole part of America I’d never seen or thought about before.

  I finally found the women’s room and went inside. It was definitely nicer than most gas-station bathrooms I was used to in the city. The place sparkled, smelled fresh, and even had flowers on the countertop. I went into the stall and did my business, relieved for something that felt a little like normal, even if it was just the ability to piss in a clean toilet.

  When I left, I opened the door, took one step out, and was immediately confronted by the strange teenager. I jumped in surprise. She stood blocking my path and stared at me with crazy eyes.

  “Help me,” she said.

  I opened and closed my mouth several times. I was so stunned first by her appearance in front of me and then by her plea, I wasn’t sure what to make of any of it.

  “What?” I finally managed.

  “They’re going to kill me,” she said. “I’ve seen it in my dreams.”

  My brain totally froze up. Kill her? Who? How? Why? What was this about dreams?

  If I hadn’t been having weird-ass dreams myself every single night, I might have dismissed the whole thing. But the fact that I was, combined with the look of total sincerity on her face and wild desperation in her eyes, convinced me to take her seriously.

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “Who’s going to kill you?”

  “He eats my heart!” she practically shouted. “The demon eats my heart!”

  Demon? Okay, now I knew I was onto something here. I’d been dogged by demons since leaving Cincinnati. I was ready to believe whatever this girl told me.

  “Charlene!” someone said.

  We both turned and saw a portly White woman in a red, baby-doll top and blue jeans staring crossly at us, with her fists on her hips. She had the same ash-brown hair as the girl, but her face was wide, whereas Charlene’s was gaunt. In fact, it was obvious now that Charlene did not actually have a dirty face. It was dark from her cheeks and eyes being sunken.

  “Charlene, stop bothering that lady,” the woman said.

  The girl looked back at me imploringly. The message was clear. Whatever she feared, this woman was the source of it.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” the woman said.

  “It’s fine,” I said, putting a slight edge in my tone. “She’s okay.”

  The lady put an apologetic look on her face.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “We just changed her medication, and I’m not sure the new one is working very well.”

  Medication? What the actual fuck was going on here?

  “What kind of medication?” I asked.

  The woman looked embarrassed. She
blushed as crimson as her top.

  “She suffers from . . . schizophrenia,” she said, lowering her voice on the last word. “It’s severe. Causes delusions and paranoia. It’s . . . it’s been really hard.”

  Her eyes misted over. Holy shit, was she on the level? I’d been suspicious since Charlene had given me the scared eyes and said they were trying to kill her. And since I’d fought demons only half an hour ago, it seemed totally reasonable to me that there were more of them haunting this poor girl.

  But maybe there was a more mundane explanation. Maybe it made sense in a totally boring, nonmagical kind of way.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, unable to think of anything else.

  “Thank you,” the woman said. “Charlene, come on now. Say goodbye to the nice lady.”

  Charlene threw me a scared look. There was real terror in those green eyes. But was it paranoia or legitimate fear? Her lip quivered, begging me to believe her.

  “Are you sure she’s all right?” I asked. “She seems afraid of you.”

  The woman put a hand to her mouth, as though she might cry. She closed her eyes for a second. Deep sorrow passed across her face.

  “Charlene,” she said after a moment. “Don’t you want to go home and see Sissy?”

  The girl’s expression changed immediately. She looked hopeful, interested.

  “See Sissy?” she said.

  “Yes,” the woman said. “She’s waiting for you.”

  “Sissy!” Charlene said, clapping her hands.

  She suddenly seemed joyful. This whole scene was getting weirder by the second.

  “Yes, let’s go see her,” the woman in the red top said. “Say goodbye to your new friend.”

  Charlene turned back to me, smiling, happy.

  “The demons want to kill you,” she said in a low voice. Her face returned to her previously terror-stricken expression. “Run.”

  I gasped. Charlene disappeared, replaced by the little girl from my dreams. She grinned and put a finger to her lips.

  “Shhhhh,” she said.

  Then she winked and vanished. Charlene was standing in front of me again. She laughed maniacally.

  “Sissy!” she cried.

  Then she turned and scampered to the fat woman, who still had her fists on her hips. She gave me a sympathetic look.