by Anna Lewis
“Actually, any of the Dead that I summon are most certainly my concern.” I continued, slowly, moving forward with caution. “Being a Necromancer comes with much responsibility. You know what happens when a Necromancer abuses her powers.” His face was a pale mask, poorly hiding his…fury? He walked over to me briskly, his studied ease having vanished.
“You did it once,” he snapped, referring to the time when I had summoned my mother in front of him, which was not really an abuse of my powers.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have,” I remarked. “But I thought that you wanted to meet my mother.”
“I wish to speak with her again,” he said, continuing to push his agenda. Did he really think that I was so stupid? Well, evidently. My mother would be one of the strongest Dead, having been a powerful clairvoyant in life. I stepped away from him. He closed the distance, placing a large, warm hand on my shoulder. He attempted to rub my shoulder, instead pulling at the black satin dress that I wore. He ran his finger over the diamond choker that he had given me and looked me in the eye. He smiled.
“Please, Samara,” he said. “I have questions for her.”
“What sort of questions?”
“Ones concerning life and death.” I frowned. He had no concern for either of those things. He was a demon. He could not, technically, die. At least, not like a human could. I cursed myself for not at least reading a bit of demonology. It would certainly have come in handy in this relationship.
“Tell me exactly what you are going to do,” I said, pretending that I was being coy, when, in fact, I was highly suspicious. I placed a hand lightly on his chest.
“No.” His answer was blunt.
“Then I won’t summon any Dead,” I replied evenly.
His fist connected with my face in what felt like a horrible explosion. I had not seen it coming. As pain throbbed like a heartbeat within the skin of my cheek, I looked at Lex in shock. This was not what my kind, caring boyfriend would do. His good-looking face was twisted in dark fury. I had never seen him this way. Fear pooled in my stomach in sickening waves. I was one of the most powerful witches in the world, and yet…facing my demon-shifter boyfriend, I was frightened.
“How dare you disobey me?” he yelled, his voice booming. Who was he to demand my obedience?
“Obey you?” I replied weakly, in an attempt to regain my standing. His eyes widened. His hand was moving again, but I was so shocked that I did not move fast enough. His open palm collided with my face. I fell to the ground, limp, like a rag doll. I lay there on the cold black tiles for a moment in shock. Was this really happening? I picked myself up and off of the ground. I studied Lex for a moment. I saw none of the remorse that I had expected. Turning, I fled, my heels clicking on the tile floor.
I should have expected no less of a demon.
***
SAMARA:
Surrounded by the flames of five large black taper candles, I used my athame dagger to begin to build the protective circle, using the shiny silver blade to draw out a pentacle on the floor. It was around four feet, so large enough to sit within safely. The candles stood at the points where the five-pointed star intersected with the circle. The lines of the pentacle glowed silver. I whispered the proper prayers to the elements, asking for their protection.
My face was still sore from when Lex had hit me. When I had looked in the mirror, I had found that my cheek was bright red, and beginning to take on a purple hue. I felt betrayed and deceived. To Lex, I was evidently some type of pawn to be used for some hidden purpose. I wondered if it had always been so. Our two years of being a couple seemed suddenly a lie.
Finishing the protective circle, I sat down within it, my legs folded in lotus position, and my back straight. My tools were all neatly laid out before me upon my altar—incense, salt, wine, bread. I lit a stick of wormwood incense, letting the sweet, apricot-like scent wash over me. I sprinkled salt around the edge of the circle to strengthen it. I closed my eyes, beginning to chant my spell aloud. I let my powers flow out of me, creating a path for the Dead that I summoned. I felt the door between life and death open and the spirit that I summoned begin to make the crossing. As the spirit entered the material plane, an ice-cold breeze swept through the darkened, candle-lit room.
I opened my eyes. Before me stood the spirit of my mother. She appeared as not much more than a pale contour drawing, her dark hair long and loose about her shoulders, and the sockets of her eyes empty. I could see her bones that had been hidden by flesh in life, just beneath her surface, and I could see her heart beating, a glowing gold pulsation within her chest. She wore the a little clothing; a long, flowing white dress and a flower crown made of white-petaled, yellow centered feverfew upon her head. In Death, my mother wore the funerary garb of a High Priestess.
“Hail the glorious Dead,” I intoned, lending my mother enough of my power in order to give her strength on the material plane. For a lesser practitioner, this would be difficult, but I was from a long lineage of strong witches. I had been able to summon the Dead since I was a small child. This was but a fraction of what I could do. “Mother, I need your help.”
“I am aware, my child.” She sighed deeply, dry rattling in her chest. “Your demon. I warned you to beware of demon-kind.” I bowed my head. I should have listened to one who had been a clairvoyant. I felt, honestly, stupid. My mother knew. She gave me a knowing half-smile, and waited for me to speak, as was her habit. It was comforting to know that Death had not changed her much.
“What is he planning?” I asked at last.
“He has been courting you in order to gain access to your powers as a Necromancer,” my mother said. “He seeks to use your powers to raise an army of the Dead.”
My heart sunk within me. How could I have not seen?
“Why?” I said.
“He seeks to create a new world order, where the supernatural rule the world.” She paused. “He wishes to rule over both the Living and the Dead. He wishes to bring all of the Dead back, to keep them here as his slaves for all of eternity, that he be king over all.”
“What should I do?” I asked in anguish. “Will the Warden help me?”
“This he cannot do. The Warden’s domain is Death. There he must remain. It is your duty to prevent the demon-shifter from entering that domain.” My mother paused again, then said, “You must leave this city. Seek the leader of our coven. She will hide you until you are prepared to battle the demon.”
“What do I need, mother?”
“To imprison a demon, you must have the answer:
What is given and what is taken.
There at your first breath,
Neither asked, only given, but follows unto Death.”
I nodded. The Dead were rarely direct, even my mother, who had been the leader of our coven, and had been rather forthcoming when alive. She stood before me, her form flickering like the lights of the candles. I wanted, more than anything, to keep her with me. But there was no need to do that, except for my own comfort.
“Thank you, mother,” I said gratefully. “I give you these offerings in thanks for your sacrifice.” I held up my offerings, a bowl of white wine and a crust of bread, crumbling the bread and letting it fall to the floor, and then pouring out the wine. It steamed a bit as it was consumed by the energy that was in the room. I held up my hand.
“I now release you,” I said. I closed my eyes and let my power flow out of my body, lending her the strength in order to walk the path back to the domain of the Dead, and then closing the door behind her. The room immediately began to rise in temperature. I rubbed my hands together, trying to generate some kind of warmth. I felt as though all of my extremities were frozen solid from the cold and sitting still for what felt like ages. My heart was pounding wildly, the sound of my pulse loud and insistent in my ears.
I looked around my apartment. It was obvious that a witch lived here. The room was simple in decoration, with honey-toned wood floors and white walls. Various dried herbs hung from the ceil
ing, and along the walls were large wooden shelves, stocked with books and lined with bottles of differing sizes and filled with tinctures and essential oils. It was fragrant, redolent of paper, ink, and the dried herbs. I sighed. This was the only place that I felt secure. It was my own. It was the reason why I had not moved into the luxury and excess of Lex’s penthouse. He had been offering, more and more insistently, and now I knew why, thanks to my mother. He wanted to possess me. He wanted to use me.
I needed to see the leader of my coven immediately. So, I packed a small backpack with some supplies and clothing before leaving my humble apartment, possibly, I thought sadly, forever. I shut the door behind me, turning my key in the deadbolt with a click that had the ring of finality.
I knocked on the door to the coven leader’s home. It was a slim brick townhouse on the eastern side of the city. The door was painted a bright spring green color. It swung open to reveal McKenna dressed in a long, flowing skirt made of re-purposed saris. It was vibrantly patterned and colored. She wore an orange over-sized sweater over the top, and had a silk scarf wrapped around her head. She had thick, curly hair, and her dark colored skin had a sprinkling of freckles across it. She smiled widely at me. I could feel her power, so strong that it glowed within her.
“Samara,” she greeted me warmly. “Your mother told me that you would be coming.” Of course she did. McKenna stepped aside, holding the door open for me.
“Thank you, High Priestess,” I replied, stepping inside. The interior was bursting with gold trinkets, colorful paintings and damask wall-hangings; large ostrich plumes, an over-full hat-stand with many patched and tattered coats. The carpet was zebra-print, and the walls were a warm orange color. It smelled of frankincense and sage and cooking food.
The High Priestess placed a comforting hand on my back, leading me through a high doorway and into her kitchen, where the walls were painted a lovely cerulean blue. A large pot of water was boiling away on the stove, and there was the sharp and delicious scent of garlic. Another pot beside it seemed to contain a tomato sauce made from scratch.
“Well, I was preparing supper, but that will need to wait,” she said brightly, not at all concerned that she would have to wait for her dinner. Witches only eat dinner after midnight. She waved her hand, whispering something, and the boiling in the pots paused instantaneously. She began to take different tinctures and herbs down from her well-stocked shelves.
“Where will you send me?” I asked. She glanced up at me from her frenzied efforts to put together a spell of transporting.
“It’s best if you don’t know the exact location,” she said. “But I am sending you to stay with my sister, as was agreed to with your mother.”
“You and my mother planned this?” I said. “I didn’t know that you had a sister.” I had known McKenna for my entire life. She was like a second mother to me.
“Oh, yes. My sister is Dora. Your mother and I planned this long ago — before you were born, in fact,” she replied. She bit her lip. “Your mother knew that you would, at some time, require a safe haven. She trusted Dora explicitly. Dora would do anything for your mother.”
I frowned. Why had my mother kept this imminent danger a secret from me? There was no time to ask for the whole story. McKenna was already drawing the glowing pentacle with her athame dagger, gesturing for me to stand within it. I obeyed, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and taking a deep breath as I felt McKenna’s protective spells surround me, sliding over my skin like a protective sheath.
When finished with the warding, she picked up the bowl containing the proper tincture, holding it over my head and pouring as she chanted. The scent of lavender, thyme, and something else—something woody, wrapped about me. The kitchen began to fade.
“Farewell, Samara,” McKenna said. “Go with the good will of your coven. We will do everything in our power to protect you.” With that, the kitchen was gone, and I found myself surrounded by the reddish, rocky soil of the desert. The night sky was a dark, deep royal blue. I could see mesas and saguaro all about me.
I turned to find myself standing in front of a small white two-story house. It had a wrap-around porch with white wooden rocking chairs on it. A light was on in the downstairs—waiting for me, I realized. It had a sign, made of wood, with two spotlights to light it. It read: Dora’s B&B. In the distance, I could see the scattered lights of a small town. Here and there in the almost pitch darkness, I could see a few cars and their headlights. I sighed, walking in the direction of the B&B, which was evidently my safe house. Although for how long would it be truly safe? I thought to myself as my footsteps crunched in the sandy, rocky desert soil.
***
AURORA:
“What do you mean ‘she has disappeared?’” Lex hissed angrily. I looked at him with wide eyes. He was a greater demon, and as such, could destroy the entire building in which we stood with the flick of a wrist or the shake of his head. I remained calm. As a Lamia, a child-eating demon, I was useful to him. My bloodlust was second to none, and Lex never questioned my allegiance, although, perhaps he should have.
“She went to the home of the High Priestess,” I replied. “She did not come out, and when I entered, she was nowhere to be found.” He turned away from the flames roaring in his fireplace. They made his pale skin a fiery orange. His red eyes glowed.
“How did you get past the warding spells of the High Priestess?” he asked with surprise. I glanced at my nails, which were crusted with dried blood.
“I…well, you can say that she did not quite expect me,” I replied, biting my nail in order to taste the blood that was stuck beneath it. It tasted of salt and iron. I looked down at my body, clad in tight-fitting black leather pants and a black lacy top—my hunting gear. “She was expecting someone. Just not me. She left to get reinforcements in the middle of our little tiff.” Lex was studying me. “The kitchen reeked of transportation spell. A very powerful one.”
“And you could not tell where it sent her?”
“No. It was too well-warded for that,” I replied. Lex rubbed his chin in his hand as he thought.
“The coven now knows that I have been tracking her,” he mused, mostly to himself. “What would you do next?” He looked at me.
“Find and manipulate the weakest link,” I replied automatically.
“Who would that be?”
“Samara’s best friend,” I said, just like the star-pupil. “She’s softer than a kitten.”
“Meroe,” Lex said, nodding his head slowly. A crooked smile dawned upon the high demon’s face. “Go and bring her to me now.” I nodded. Never a “please.” Just “now.”
I let myself disappear, reappearing with a rush outside of Meroe’s apartment building. I stood in the shadows of an alley across the street. It was beginning to rain, and the alley reeked of garbage and that musty smell that city alleyways tend to get. I was used to it, usually using such alleys in order to hang out and wait for people or supernaturals that Lex wanted brought to him for one reason or another.
I watched for several hours, studying each figure that passed on the street. Finally, I saw a slight figure walking briskly in the direction of the building. She was huddled within a bright purple rain coat, the drizzle being too much for her, I supposed. I shifted into my demon form, and let myself slip into the invisible. I got right up behind her as she unlocked and opened the door, following her right inside.
Upon entering the building, she gasped, then turned and looking right at me. She frowned, but, not seeing me, she relaxed. Big mistake. And yet, I had known that this is how she would act. The High Priestess had been a challenge—I’d had to attack immediately. But with Meroe, I knew that I had the luxury of time to play with my prey. I followed her right up the stairs and right to her apartment door, chuckling smugly to myself the whole way.
When she entered her apartment, her warding spells kicked in, and my demon form turned visible with a lurch. Meroe turned and screamed, and I hissed, slapping her across the face
so that my long, razor-sharp talons left large and satisfying cuts along the side of her soft, pink, fleshy cheek. She reeled for a moment before recovering and running to get whatever magical aid she believed would be able to stop me.
I laughed at her naïve belief that she could get away from me so easily, shifting so that I disappeared, and then reappeared right in front of her. She screamed again, her face filled with delicious terror as my strong hands clasped her throat, denying her air until she passed out. Mission accomplished, I took her tiny limp body in my arms, and disappeared again.
***
SAMARA:
I was greeted at the door to the B&B by Dora, a rotund, jovial woman who looked very much like McKenna, with the same wild curls and spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She smiled widely, clasping my hands in both of hers.
“Oh, Samara,” she said, her voice full of kindness. “You look just like your mother. It is so very wonderful to meet you…despite the horrible circumstances. Come in, dear! Come in! I have just boiled some water for tea.” I entered the B&B to find that the two sisters had very different tastes in décor. Whereas McKenna’s townhouse was brimming with ephemera, Dora’s B&B was neat and simple. The light wood floors had a light blue runner covering them, and the walls were painted a bright cream color. There was plain but beautifully crafted wooden furniture that appeared to all match throughout. The wooden table and chairs in the kitchen matched the large desk and bench that were placed inside of the entryway.
The kitchen itself had a large industrial stove and a massive refrigerator. Copper pots and pans hung from a wrought-iron rack that was suspended above a large kitchen island.
“Have a seat, dear,” Dora said, gesturing toward the table. I sat, setting my pack upon the floor and looking about me. There was a clock that was in the shape of a black cat on the wall. Its tail and eyes twitched from side-to-side along with the second hand. It made a calming ticking sound. Dora set a simple white teapot and two tea cups on the table. “How do you like your tea?”