Midnight Rain

by Cecily Magnon

  Isabel gasped. “There were demons in your realm as well?”

  “Yes.” Wanda nodded. “Demons are everywhere, I am sorry to say.” Wanda looked back down on his grimoire, “An ungodly chill ran down my spine at the witch’s word. A spawn could only be made by one of pure evil and massive power. The witch knew my trepidation as she danced around in glee mocking me. She goaded that I could not help the boy, that only one being could. Again, and only with much more pleading, did she give up the answer; a Soul Catcher, she whispered to me with malice.”

  Isabel straightened, hope renewing her. “Wanda, this means there is a way. It has been done before. Your friend. His story.”

  Wanda shook his head. Listen to the rest of the passage, Lady Isabel. “I learned from the spiteful witch that a soul catcher is the rarest being there is. One that is only borne out of sacrifice and duress. A soul catcher, as the name implies can capture a soul. But a soul catcher can also restore an essence to its vessel, intervening in the cycle of life and death. I searched and searched even travelling to other realms, never having found one such being. Because of my failure, the boy eventually took the life of his family, and the people in his village. In the end, rather than being captured, the boy ended his own life… The demon who made him was never revealed.”

  Isabel deflated, her shoulders sagging in its heaviness. “Phoebe said a soul catcher was needed. Your friend was searching for one as well. It has to be our answer.”

  Wanda was nodding. “It will be perilous. To undo the work of dark magic, the power needed must be equally dark and powerful. A soul catcher can cut the threads of Fate, and stop death to restore life. That is a divine power isolated only to the Creators themselves. Not even the Great Angels are given such a power.”

  She gulped at the warning. Her throat constricted, making even the lump of saliva painful to swallow.

  “High Mother, saving Elysa will mean that we must enter into danger even more dire than what we already have in hand.”

  “Do we have another choice?”

  “There is always another choice.”

  “We cannot leave her to this fate. The Anakim do not abandon their own.” She raised her chin. “If there is a way. We must help Elysa.”

  Wanda nodded absently. “Then we have a lot of work ahead of us. The Guardians will be strained much harder than they’ve already been.” Wanda was pushing up from his seat, but she held on to his arm.

  “My friend, I have one other thing to share with you.”

  “Please tell me.” Wanda held onto her arm lightly.

  “When Elysa first came to us, Anya had a vision. It almost made Elysa leave us. She wanted to protect us and keep us from us anymore danger. She was willing to sacrifice herself for The Order.” She paused for a moment. “She hardly knew us. She could have walked away.”

  Wanda smiled and straightened his thin shoulders. “She sounds much like her parents.”

  Isabel nodded in agreement. Affection and sympathy for the family sending an ache to her heart. “Elysa is family to The Order. We must bring her back.”

  “Agreed.” Wanda cocked his head in question. “Is there something else, Lady Isabel?”

  Isabel swallowed. “Yes…” she was hesitating as the goosebumps prickled her arms. “Anya saw Elysa as a great and powerful weapon. The prophesied one who would be able to control all four elements.”

  Wanda’s eyes widened almost as large as his owl form. “Our mission becomes more urgent by the minute, High Mother. Am I right in assuming that when Elysa first came to you, she was not aware of her abilities?”

  “Yes.”

  Wanda continued. “Her powers were neutral at the time of her initiation with The Order. As she used her powers for the side of Light, so her powers attuned to the side of good.”

  Realization was dawning on Isabel, making the goosebumps prickle harder all over her body. Isabel finished for Wanda, the beat of her heart thudding like a hammer pounding dread into her system. “But since she was made a spawn, her powers have been used for dark deeds, therefore attuning her powers to the side of evil.”

  It was Wanda’s turn to swallow. “From what I have learned since being here. Elysa already commands three of the four elements.”

  Isabel nodded, her lips tightened into a thin line. “Yes. She was such a quick study. Brilliant both in mind and body.”

  Wanda locked onto Isabel’s eyes. “Elysa will have the ability to control all the elements. A power of that magnitude under the control of Baal could mean the end of this world as we know it.”

  “We must speak with the High Guardians, Will and Sarah. Our efforts must be divided.” Isabel said quickly. “The city needs help. Elysa must be restored. We cannot fail at either task.”

  “I will do what I can to break the spell over the city, High Mother. But it will take time. The Guardians must buy me time, or it will be all for naught.”

  “You will have it.”

  “As for Elysa… The Soul Catcher. I need to research this legendary being and find more information. Pick up where my friend left off centuries ago in his search. I will need Seline and Grim to assist me.”

  “What about Katcher? The Death Rider?”

  Wanda nodded, “Katcher, at one time held the power to cross the realms. A gift bestowed by her handler, Mahalel, the Dark One.”

  “And now?” Isabel asked curiously.

  “The Dark Ones have vanished. Another problem that has got the higher realms in a fright.” Wanda locked his gaze with Isabel, “Katcher has asked Will to be her handler.”

  “What would that mean for our friend?” Isabel worried for Will.

  “He would have the power of Death himself. He only needs to utter a name, and he would unleash the death rider to her task. The being’s death would be complete and swift.”

  Isabel’s eyes gleamed, “He can utter Baal’s name,” she whispered. Her desperation making her speak the heavy obviousness that must also be weighing on Will’s shoulders.

  Wanda breathed deeply. “It is not so simple, High Mother. Baal is a demon. One who we know has the ability to turn beings into a spawn.”

  Isabel shoulders sagged. “There are other souls inside of him.”

  “Uttering Baal’s name could mean his end. But it could be the end of hundreds, maybe thousands of souls he holds captive. Including Elysa.”

  “Dearest Creator.” Isabel sighed heavily. “Why does it feel we have already lost this war?”

  “It is always darkest before the sun begins to rise.” Wanda patted the High Mother’s arm. The grimoire tittered on the sorcerer’s lap, an excited energy bleeding off of the large and heavy book. “Yes, Grim. I’ll let her know.”

  Isabel smiled; she had almost forgotten the grimoire was alive. Grim, as Wanda affectionately referred to his book was literally a book of both secrets and knowledge.

  “Grim wanted me to tell you more about Katcher.”

  “Please go on.”

  “She may not be able to exert her abilities as a Death Rider without a handler, but she is a fierce warrior.” Wanda chucked softly. “She has grown attached to your son.”

  Isabel returned the smile. The pride of a mother apparent in the twinkle of her eyes.

  “Considers him a brother.” Wanda added. “Lady Isabel, Katcher tells me Jarron is changing.” He looked at the High Mother thoughtfully.

  Isabel quirked her head in question. “In what way?”

  “To an angel.” He turned to walk away, his shuffling steps sliding over the rug covered floors of Isabel’s library.

  She watched Wanda walk out, his words about her son hanging precariously over her. An angel? Was the sorcerer being literal?

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  January 29th, Bimini Island

  Dex waved goodbye to his latest tour group as they departed his boat and lumbered onto the small dock. Many of them sported pinked skin and wind tossed hair from the speedy ride back. He had laughed with the group leader, the patriarch of
the family through much of the day as he took them around the island, sharing local stories. It had been a good group, very lively, and full of humor. He was almost sorry to see them go, but the sun was setting, and he needed to patrol the perimeter of the island.

  Trolling back slowly until he cleared the dock, Dex kept an eye on the group he’d spent the day with. They were scattering amongst the brightly lit shops along a popular tourist street. He always marveled at how much energy tourists seemed to have. They were like bees buzzing from flower to flower, never stopping till they were filled to the brim.

  Dex enjoyed his job. It didn’t pay a lot, but he and his family lived in comfort. He breathed deeply, getting himself mentally prepared to start his second job--patrolling the island.

  He didn’t enjoy patrolling as much. It was solitary work, and it didn’t pay at all. But it was necessary especially after what happened six years ago. He thought he had escaped this type of responsibility when he left Mexico, but it still found him. He didn’t want to live in a world of magick and supernaturals. He had been willing to play ignorant, and pretend the other world didn’t exist. He wanted to be normal. Was it too much to ask that he didn’t want to have demons on his nalgas?

  Normal didn’t last very long though. Meeting Sabine had rocked his world in more ways than one. The cherry-on-top of their meeting was finding out she was a witch. He had almost run back to the mainland, but his heart wouldn’t let him leave the most beautiful woman he’d met in his life.

  Sabine effectively ended his attempts to live a ‘normal life’. She didn’t push magick on him, but being around her made him see their abilities in a different light. Magick came with a responsibility. Magick also meant being able to help a lot of people, and helping felt good.

  He began to understand his family’s dedication to the craft. How they never wanted anything in return. In his youth, he hadn’t understood why they were so content with living in such meager ways. He accused them of lying about their contentment, and not wanting a better life.

  He felt like a tonto, a dumb-dumb for ever having thought such awful things about his family. Then all too soon, it was too late to make it up to them. When Fawna came into their lives, she was magic wrapped in a beautiful little bundle. How quickly he wished he had been home in Mexico where Rosa could bless his daughter. To his delight, Rosa came to him offering the most beautiful blessings to his daughter. It had been a joyous visit and one he kept close to his heart. When his cousin Rosa passed away six years ago, he was devastated. Not only did his cousin die; she was also his last living relative.

  Will had brought him Rosa’s last gifts--the secrets of their family’s unique and heavily guarded craft. Destiny found him again. God, how he missed his cousin. She’d always been more like a sister, always protecting him, and taking his side when no one else would.

  With thoughts of Rosa heavy in his mind, he turned the boat slowly, letting it ride over a large swell before engaging the throttle. The sun was halfway down the horizon, its fiery colors painting the sky in deep oranges and reds. Breathing deeply, he trolled the boat heading west.

  The waters calmed as the sunset faded into darkness, and soft music from the island traveled melodically to his vessel. This was a good start to his night. He hummed along to the tune drifting his way until the music faded completely.

  He travelled along the west shore slowly, not wanting to miss anything. This was where the community had been reporting irregularities. No one had actually seen anything, but the coven members were highly attuned to the island’s normal energetic frequencies. Lately, the energies rolling from this side of the island had been erratic.

  He felt it himself. It was like a thousand pin pricks poking you at once, worse than a tattoo. At least getting inked, you had something to show for it when it was done. Not this. The energy just left you feeling wounded, without the reward. Stopping the motor, he dropped anchor. The irregular energies were strongest just about three miles away from shore. He couldn’t stand being in the center of it, but at this distance, the bad energy decreased to a tolerable itchy irritation.

  The island’s silhouette was clear against the starlit sky. He loved his home. He recognized every palm and every building outlining the island, making him appreciate the peace they’d had. But their peace was being threatened.

  His throat clenched with protective instinct, as thoughts about threats to his family’s wellbeing pushed him into deep concern. His gut heated, his fingers crackled with power, shooting small sparks in the darkness. If someone saw, they would think it was a child’s firework. He called it back. The power that ran in his blood was not subtle, or pretty like a sparkler. The sparks were only the beginning. He needed to contain it, until it was time. The magick obeyed, receding back, until only the normal warmth of his body was left.

  The boat suddenly lurched forward, taking him by surprise. The sea had been calm with only the smallest of waves rocking the boat like a cradle. He ran to the side, looking over the railing. Maybe a large piece of driftwood had rammed his boat. He would need to make immediate repairs. The last thing a tourist guide needed was a leaky boat. The port side was clear. The boat lurched again as the water became increasingly turbulent.

  The boat rocked heavily, the aggravated pulling on the anchor causing the floorboards to creak loudly with strain. The boat wobbled over the rising waves, the turbulent fall of the water threatening to throw him out of the boat’s safety. Dex ran clumsily for the cab, slamming down the button to dislodge the anchor. There was no time to wait for the anchor to make its ascent.

  A whirlpool was forming.

  Sea water roared as if alive. Liquid vortex gathered strength and speed. He prayed he could get out of its perimeter before it got too strong for the boat’s motor to overcome. Tour boat motors were not meant for quick acceleration, but a steady and slow increase. Tourist boats traveled slower for a reason. Sure, he could get some speed, but only after running a bit. He prayed to the Creators he didn’t blow a fuse gunning the boat out of the whirlpool’s perimeter. Holding his breath, he taxed the motor to its full capacity. He grimaced with panic as gears churned and whined, and the small engine coughed its way to freedom.

  From a safe distance, Dex slowed the boat and let it idle. He ran for the railing and watched the abnormal formation spin turbulently in the darkness. Could this be the reason for the energetic disturbance? He jerked as a roar erupted from the whirlpool. The outer lip of the monstrosity undulated as if snarling in anger. The whirlpool spun faster, the central mouth tightening to a pucker. The abnormal thing gurgled before a thunderous rumble erupted, and a body shot out of the opening.

  The body dropped with a loud slap on top of the water. In the same instant the whirlpool came to a stop, and the water was once again calm.

  What the hell?! Without hesitation, Dex dove into the water. The waves carried him, propelling him forward to the adrift body. Whoever the whirlpool had just spit out was unconscious. Might be already dead.

  Dex turned over the still body of a woman dressed in a dirty white suit. He secured her quickly in his arms while swimming back for the boat.

  Help her.

  He turned his head, sweeping his vision around him. He was losing his mind. He swore a voice had spoken to him. It couldn’t have been the woman. She was out cold, barely breathing.

  Back at the boat, he wondered what to do with her. He couldn’t take her back to his home. He had no idea what she was. She looked human, but so did many demons. She could be Other, but was she dangerous? He couldn’t take that chance, not with things heating up and his family’s life at stake.

  The healing pools were near, no more than a ten-minute boat ride from where they were. He could go there. The pools were far enough away from the island, and he could keep an eye on the stranger until she came to.

  ***

  Bobbing in warm water, Ellie began to stir. The bubbling water kept her afloat within a shallow crater. Where was she? She remembered the Raven and t
he abandoned house. The water was soothing, energizing. Sea water always did that for her, but these waters were different. The healing elements within the ancient source was strong, she could feel it in her bones.

  She connected with its healing properties, summoning the four elements present in the water. The pool revived her a little, but more importantly the spirits within the water reminded her of her connection to the elements. The sea had always spoken to her. The water had always been a big part of her life and of who she was; Guardian, Anakim, Witch, Human. Protector. She had held all those parts of her sacred, until Baal.

  She was still alive, hanging only by the ravaged fibers of a thin thread. Baal didn’t want her dead. It was why she remained. She didn’t have the freedom of death unless Baal willed it. Her only consolation was, he no longer controlled her mind. She knew her hold was precarious. Her mind could snap at any time. If she lost control now, what was left of her ‘life’ would succumb to Baal once again.

  The elements within the water fed her anger, making what was left of her life force seem larger. Her powers mingled, and swirled into chaotic energy within her body. Her instincts worked to keep her alive, but the darkness wanting to overtake her mind was suffocating. No… Baal… no… She whimpered in her mind. Get away. She called upon her powers, though she wasn’t sure she had the strength. You won’t find me. No. Her powers released, uncontrolled. Dirt, fire, water, air, and lighting spun in a vortex, emptying her. Did she get away? She felt lost. Confused. Hollow. Spent of all her energy, she went limp within the crater.

  “Stop! Please stop. What are you doing?” screamed a man.

  She clenched her eyes closed trying to block out phantom voices screaming for mercy. They begged for their lives. They were coming back to her, haunting her, and breaking her heart.

  “Wait, hold on!” The same voice screamed. He was begging her to stop.

  Was the voice real or lapses of a tortured memory? Someone she had hurt? Begging, pleading for her to stop. God, the voices were torture, driving her mad. She could hear scrambling, feet scraping against sand and pebbles rushing toward her. Was that real? Her mind struggled, unable to discern between reality and nightmares. Her mind… her mind felt fractured. Her mind was hers, she remembered. Baal had controlled her thoughts. Her actions. She tried to fight.