Arrest, Search and Séance : Book 1 of the Fringe Society

by R. D. Hunter

  “Storage, mostly; boxes, old junk from when I was a kid. I haven’t been up there in…” God, how long had it been since I’d been up there? I couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t I remember?

  “No,” Amelia said, shaking her head slowly, “there’s something else.”

  “Let’s go see,” Beth said, jumping to her feet.

  Like most old farmhouses, there was a door at the top of the narrow stairwell that separated the top and bottom floors. I never locked it, and the knob turned easily in my hand. It opened up on a spacial hallway, completely devoid of dust, dirt or grime? How was that possible? I had to scrub the downstairs at least once a week to keep it somewhat livable. This place looked like it had its own private maid service.

  “It’s a spell,” the third girl, Denise said, holding out her hand and spreading her fingers. “It’s written into the very framework of the house. Keeps the upstairs tidy and clean.” I let out a snort.

  “Too bad it doesn’t extend to the downstairs,” I lamented. “Come on.”

  The second floor was much the way I remembered it. My old room was at the end of the hall, nearest my parent’s room. What I didn’t remember, however, was what all the other rooms were for. There were four other rooms, not counting the bathroom, all with closed doors that I had no memory of.

  “Well, let’s take a look then,” Beth said when I told them so. She opened the closest door and let out a low whistle.

  It was an altar. Set up in much the same manner as Nichole Barret’s sacred space, but much more elaborate. The table was low and polished, ornately decorated with silver runes and symbols. The cloth over it was a deep, velvet purple, and held an antique gold athame, several candles and a leather-bound book, as thick as my forearm, with my family’s name inscribed on it.

  In the center of the room was a large circle, laid down in pewter with protective sigils all around the edge. There were three bookshelves against the far wall, each of them stuffed with original manuscripts that likely were one-of-a-kind and worth a fortune. I stared around me in shock, letting the full measure of the room soak into me.

  I knew my parents had been practitioners themselves, but the sheer scope and volume of what I was seeing boggled my mind. It was like finding a professional recording studio in the basement of someone who only sang in the shower.

  “Come on,” Beth said, pulling on my arm. “Let’s see what’s in the other rooms.”

  I followed her and the other girls down the hall, and we opened the remaining doors. In one, there was an apothecary of herbs, potions and potion-making implements. It was meticulously stored and organized, more-so than anything I could have pulled off, and I recognized my mother’s handwriting on the labeled jars.

  Unlike other things, the herbs used in witchcraft didn’t go bad with age; they got more potent. Most of this collection was almost two decades old, meaning any potion or balm I made with this stuff would have more kick than a drunken mule.

  Next, we found a room that looked like it belonged more in a museum, rather than a home out in the countryside. There were cases and displays, holding multiple objects with names and descriptions posted under them in my Dad’s handwriting. Some were in glass boxes. Others were in locked trunks and suitcases, each with warnings and advised handling instructions.

  “What’s all this?” Janice asked, looking around in awe. She and the other girls were careful to keep their hands to themselves. I followed suit.

  “My Grandpa always said that my Dad liked to collect things,” I answered. “I always thought he meant model cars or stamps. Apparently, he was talking about magical items.”

  “Some of these look really old,” Denise said, bending over to examine a glass ball that swirled and formed cloudy images.

  “Some of these are wrong,” Amelia said, hugging her body and looking around anxiously. “Be careful with these, Melanie. Some of these things are aware, and they don’t like us. They’re very angry.”

  “Well, they’ll have to take a number,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “Come on, we’ve still got another room to check.”

  As we walked to the next room, Beth pulled up alongside me and whispered, “You really didn’t know this stuff was up here?” I shook my head.

  “Over the years, I’d thought about coming up here and poking around, but something else always dragged me away. I’d get busy or have a new case or just…just forget.”

  “Yeah, I get that stuff happens and one thing drives out the next but, come on, this is a treasure trove in your own house. Don’t you think it’s kind of weird you didn’t even know it existed until now?”

  It was beyond weird. To tell the truth, I was severely creeped out by it. Looking back, it was like something had deliberately been set in my path every time I’d so much has thought about coming up here.

  Jackpot. I felt it as soon as I touched the doorknob. A hum of power coursed into my body, setting my teeth to vibrating in their sockets and my hair to stand on end. Inside was the biggest collection of crystals and jewelry I’d ever seen. Rows of tables and shelves held rings, amulets, and crystals of all shapes and designs. The ceiling was one large skylight, which meant that moonlight had been steadily charging them all this time.

  The girls came in behind me.

  “Wow,” Beth breathed. “Would you look at that? I think we’ve solved our crystal problem.” I nodded, unable to say anything.

  Amelia quietly brushed past us and came up to a round table in the center of the room. On it, was a single piece of jewelry; a bracelet, made up of a dozen or so rounded crystals, each polished to a luxurious shine and held together with a silver clasp. It was beautiful, and I gasped when I saw it.

  “This is yours,” she said in that same dreamy voice. “It used to belong to your mother. But now it’s yours. You should take it.”

  I’d totally forgotten about my mother’s bracelet. Dad gave it to her on their five-year wedding anniversary. He’d made it himself, from crystals he either mined or collected. There was turquoise to augment psychic abilities, peridot for protection from harmful spells, and bloodstone for energy and bravery. There were others too, but those are the ones that caught my eye.

  Amelia gathered it up in both hands, then reverently wrapped it around my wrist. I started to pull back, almost out of reflex. That didn’t belong on me. It belonged on my mother’s wrist. She should have been buried with it.

  “She wants you to have this,” Amelia whispered. “Trust me.” I did, and let her finish closing the clasp.

  As soon as she did, I felt a delicious new strength flow into me. It was like a warm embrace from someone close, telling you everything would be all right. I closed my eyes, savoring it. Up until that moment, I hadn’t been aware just how scared I actually was. Hawkins was a beast; a supernaturally charged monster who wouldn’t think twice about ending my life and those close to me. And I was about to go up against him, alone, unaided, and with only my training and my magic to aid me. Anyone would be scared.

  When I opened my eyes, Beth and the other girls were all looking at me. They knew something had happened, but weren’t sure what. I smiled to let them know everything was all right.

  “Ladies, I believe we’ve solved our crystal problem,” I said. “Let’s gather what we need and get this thing done. Time waits for no witch.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A dedication ceremony is a big deal for a witch. Usually, it takes place when they’re just a child, similar to a baptism. There’s a little ritual, a little food and a big party afterward. A re-dedication, though, that’s a much more solemn affair.

  It’s when a witch who is a grown adult announces her intention to live her life according to the rules and laws of magic. It affirms their commitment and acknowledgment of their power, and their chosen role in the universe.

  Like Janice had pointed out, it’s usually done by close family and friends. But, seeing how I was dangerously short on both, Beth and her entourage stepped in to fill the voi
d. I could have done worse.

  The ceremony took place in the back yard, near the old gazebo. It had to be outside under the eyes of whatever gods and spirits happened to be watching. I wished I’d had time to prepare the place. Weeds and roots were everywhere, the grass was entirely too long and the garden where my mother planted and harvest herbs was just a tangle of twisted and gnarled plants.

  Looking at it, I felt a pang of loss and regret. I’d really let this place go in my pursuit of career-minded happiness. I’d have to do something about that.

  Denise started mixing together several of the herbs into a fine paste, then added them to a jar of sacred oil, while the other girls started sweeping and clearing off a place for the ritual to take place. I knelt down in the gazebo and began to meditate, focusing on regulating my breathing and my intentions while the last of the sun’s rays fell on us. Night was coming. The Festival of Imbolc would be starting soon.

  Finally, it was time to start. The girls had done a passable job of clearing off the surrounding area. Lit candles had been placed in all four cardinal directions, and a circle had been cast and raised. I’d forgotten how efficient and fun it was to do with magic with other practitioners. Maybe there was something to be said for covens after all.

  Beth was chosen to preside, since she’d known me the longest. The other girls stood back while she sprinkled a hand full of salt on the ground and I knelt upon it. Then, the women began to raise their power and force it outward, causing the air to hum and thicken around us. I raised my own power as well, but kept it inside. I was going to need it.

  After a few minutes, my ears had popped half a dozen times and I was beginning to sweat. The other girls, likewise, were showing signs of strain and the casted circle was beginning to bulge from holding in so much power. Then, Beth spoke.

  “We are gathered here to bless this witch,” she announced, “so that she might walk the path before her and never falter.” She reached into the jar of oil Denise had prepared, and smeared a drop of it on my forehead.

  “Blessed be your mind, so that you may know wisdom,” she said. Carefully, she smeared another drop on my eye lids. “Blessed be your eyes, so you may always see your way.” Another drop on both ears. “Blessed be your ears, so you may always hear the truth.” She anointed my lips. “Blessed be your mouth, so that it may speak with power and clarity.” Then on my hands. “Blessed be your hands, so that you may use them to help others.” Lastly, on my feet. “Blessed be your feet, so that you may never stumble along the way.”

  She put the jar of oil down, handed me the athame we’d found in my house and began to raise her own power. The air inside the circle, already saturated with energy, began to crackle with ribbons of lightening. It was almost time.

  Night had fallen in earnest while we’d been conducting the ceremony, and it was a night unlike any I’d ever seen. The trees swayed and bent under the force of an unfelt breeze. Whispered voices could be heard coming from far away, and tiny orbs of light danced about in the air around us. These were lesser spirits, attracted to the resonances of our power, even through the circle. It was common enough, and the radiance from their tiny beings created an otherworldly ambiance around us.

  Now, it was my turn. I stepped forward with the sacred dagger, preparing to open the circle and proclaim my true name and way, thus solidifying my way as a witch and practitioner of magic, but stopped short. Something else was here. I heard one of the girls in Beth’s entourage (Denise, I think) gasp in awe and fear, and I understood why when I looked up.

  Across the pond, on the other side of the tree line, something massive was looking down on us. At first, I thought there were two moons in the darkened sky, but then I realized they were the thing’s eyes. The rest of its features were shrouded and indistinguishable, but I had the distinct impression it was studying me, waiting to see what I was going to do next.

  My mouth went dry. I’d heard about this happening at major workings, but never at a re-dedication. This was an elemental spirit, the physical embodiment of one of the primal forces of the universe. Older than ancient, it could have wiped out me, Beth and the girls and most of the state of Georgia in less time than it took to blink.

  I should cancel the ceremony. Keep the circle up until the spirit lost interest or was called away. It wouldn’t provide much in the way of protection, but it was better than nothing.

  Elementals aren’t evil by nature, but their actions and motivations are alien to us mortals. It could easily have killed me as soon as the working was complete, just to free my own spirit from my body so it could say “Hi, how are ya?” If I did nothing, abandoned the ritual and released the pent-up magic in a slow, steady drizzle, chances are it would eventually turn its attention elsewhere and leave us be. But then we’d have to start the re-dedication all over, giving Hawkins more than enough time to make his move.

  I thought about the Nichole Barret, cut down with so much life left to live. I thought about Bill, fighting for survival right now while his friends and family waited and suffered, unable to do anything but pray. And I wondered how many more would meet their end tonight if I did nothing and played it safe. There wasn’t even a decision to make.

  I held the athame in both hands while I opened the circle. When it was done, the pent-up energy burst forth like a wave, carrying the little spirits along for a ride.

  As it did, I added my own power to it and used it to project my words far and wide;

  “I am Melanie Victoria Graves

  And I choose the way of the PROTECTOR.”

  I stood up straight and strong, confidence radiating from me like a beacon, and the massive elemental seemed to rear back a little. A hush, every bit as solid as a brick wall, fell all around us and I held my breath as I waited to see what would happen next.

  I was so focused on the elemental, I wasn’t prepared for the backlash of energy from the spell to hit me, and I gasped and sank to my knees from the weight of it. Every magical cell in my body went from shriveled up and empty to bursting with power in less than a second as my proclamation along with my true name took effect. My vision blurred and faded and I gritted my teeth as I struggled to find some sort of balance with myself. It was hard, like holding a saucer of water and trying to keep it perfectly level while walking uphill. Eventually, though, I managed it. I felt the magical energy within myself equalize, and I let out a long, slow sigh of relief.

  When I opened my eyes, Beth was by my side while the other girls talked fearfully about what they’d just witnessed. Snippets of their conversation came to me, carried over on a cool, night breeze.

  “…never seen anything like that.”

  “…the size of it.”

  “…almost peed myself.”

  Beth helped me to my feet, then steadied myself until I could stand on my own.

  “Everyone ok?” I asked, forcing my voice to remain calm and steady. One by one, they all nodded. “Good. I want to thank you all for everything you’ve done for me tonight. Nichole would be proud.”

  “What now?” Amelia asked.

  “Your job’s done. You’re welcome to stay here tonight, but whatever you do, stay inside and stay together.”

  “But we want to help,” Janice said. The others nodded gamely. I was touched, but I couldn’t allow them to go any further.

  “You already have. You’ve given your all for this ceremony, and I intend to use it to bring Nichole’s killer to justice. Stay by the phone. If I need you, I’ll call.”

  One by one, they agreed, and I went back inside to change clothes. I couldn’t confront a monstrous evil in a white, almost-see-through gown. What would Gramps think?

  I’d just finished shucking on jeans, an old, red t-shirt and brown jacket, when my body exploded in sudden and unexpected agony. My head felt like it was going to burst while my left leg and arm throbbed with pain. My chest felt like it was filled with liquid fire and I couldn’t draw a deep breath to save my life.

  The amulet Gramps gave me h
ad been a constant source of warmth all this time. Now it had gone cold and lifeless as the energies inside it sputtered and died.

  “No!” I said through gritted teeth as I leaned on the bed for support. “Not now. I just need a little longer. Please.”

  As if motivated by my pleas, the amulet flared to life again, beating back the pain and misery and holding it at bay like a concrete dam. I could breathe again. Best of all, I could move. I wiped away the tears that had come unbidden to my eyes and finished getting dressed. I had to hurry. This little outage was a sure sign the amulet was running on fumes. If it decided to die while I was fighting Hawkins, I was beyond boned.

  My service weapon had been confiscated as soon as I got to the hospital, as per protocol, but I still had my off-duty weapon. It was a Glock 9mm, as opposed to the 40 caliber I usually carried. Not as much stopping power, but it would have to do. As I reached for the grip, though, something different happened. I felt a surge of energy crackle all around me, and glowing runes and sigils manifested along the barrel and trigger guard. What the hell? It took me a moment to figure out what was happening.

  During the re-dedication, I’d proclaimed myself as a protector. Traditionally, protectors carried swords or shields, sometimes both, during the course of their duty. Well, I couldn’t wield a blade for shit and I couldn’t fit a shield in my little Honda, so I’d delegated something else as my weapon of choice; something I was much more familiar with.

  Part of me wondered if the same would happen with any gun I picked up, or just this one. That was a condition I’d have to check out later. For now, the hour was growing late, the festival of Imbolc was swinging into full gear, Hawkins was getting ready to make his move, and the amulet that held my pain in check enough to keep me ambulatory was running out of juice. It was time this witch got to work.