Pulling on my bra and panties, I slid the pair of jeans I’d worn earlier in the evening on and wiggled into a white sweatshirt. Then I fished out two balled-up socks that had never made it to the hamper and hoped they didn’t smell too bad. Throwing on my sneakers, I picked up Christopher’s business card from my side table and dialed his number.
“Warlock-for-hire, Christopher Raven Adams here,” he answered on the second ring in a blasé tone. He didn’t sound like he’d been sleeping.
“Hi Christopher, this is Peyton from Prytania Street.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Um, I’m sorry I’m calling you so late.”
“It’s okay. I don’t sleep. What do you need?”
I took a deep breath and heaved out a sigh. “I just made contact with Drake and, uh, he’s really not doing well. I don’t think he’ll last much longer.”
He grumbled something unintelligible and groaned before becoming quiet for another few seconds. “Very well, I shall arrive within the hour.”
He was off the phone before I could thank him. Hanging up my phone, my thoughts switched to Ryan. Yes, I did consider calling him to let him know what I was up to. Ultimately, however, I decided against it. First of all, I’d had a hell of a time convincing him to let me continue sleeping in my house, after everything that had gone down. But I was determined to make contact with Drake if only to check in on him. And my chances of reaching him were better when I was in our house.
Second, it wasn’t Ryan’s problem; it was mine. I didn’t want to ask for Ryan’s help again and possibly put him in any more danger. That was a thought I wanted nothing to do with.
I started to pace my room back and forth, thinking of Drake. I refused to sit still, not while I was worried to death that Drake might not last however long it took Christopher to arrive. Within the hour? An hour was a long time to wait! Could Drake last another hour?
I walked out of my room and started for the hallway. I intended to plug in all the overhead shop lights and brighten the place up. After completing that task, I kept busy by inspecting each of the downstairs rooms to see how much progress Ryan’s men had made. That took all of ten minutes and I was left twiddling my thumbs again. But I was spared from inventing another mindless task to keep my thoughts off the slow, molasses dripping of time when I heard a steady stream of water coming from the guest bathroom.
Narrowing my eyes, I tried to remember if I’d turned off the faucet and eerily recalled that I’d never even turned it on. Gulping down my surging fear, I prodded myself forward to investigate. I didn’t race to do it by any stretch of the imagination, but tiptoed toward the bedroom, where the sound of water became more audible. Now closer, it didn’t sound as though it was coming from the sink faucet, but more like someone had turned the bath on.
When I reached my bedroom, the bathroom door was shut, and I definitely remembered leaving it open. A steady flow of steam emerged from beneath the door, illuminated by the bathroom light.
My heart climbed into my throat as I approached the door. When I reached for the doorknob, I feared I might just seize up and suffer a stroke right there. But I didn’t. Grasping the knob in my palm, I turned it and felt like I was in slow motion. I pulled the door toward me and became momentarily blinded by the overhead light, which seemed much brighter when combined with the enormous amount of condensation in the room. The steam hit me full force in the face like a slap and I blinked against it. It was just like walking into a sauna.
Incredibly, the air was so thick, I couldn’t even see through it. Taking a few small steps forward, I shielded my face with my arm so the scalding mist wouldn’t scorch my eyes. They were already tearing up, and I had difficulty breathing the inexplicably searing air. I tried to fan the steam, but it was like dense, white smoke, and so cloudy and heavy, it was opaque.
Following the sound of rushing water, I stumbled through the haze until I inadvertently kicked the bathtub with my toes. I slid the glass door to one side and reached into the bathtub, gripping the hot water knob and turning it off. Standing up again, I turned back around and noticed the steam was dissipating so quickly, it was almost as if an invisible vacuum were sucking it up from the middle of the room.
When I looked up, I was standing in front of the mirror above the sink. The steam seemed to cling to the mirror, keeping the whole thing cloudy. As I watched the vapor slowly dissipate, I could see it was leaving something behind on the mirror—words.
Taking a few steps closer, my eyes went wide and my fight-or-flight reflex was on high alert. Somehow, I couldn’t retreat, not until I read what the mirror said. The steam continued to dissipate, revealing paragraphs of text. The font was so small, I had to take a few steps closer in order to read it.
Hell, April 15, 2014
Esteemed Mortal:
They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being but a spirit and a fell demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman.
When I see fit, I shall come again and claim other victims. I alone know who they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody ax, besmeared with the blood and brains of him whom I have sent below to keep me company.
If you wish you may tell the police not to rile me. Of course I am a reasonable spirit. I take no offense at the way they have conducted their investigation in the past. But tell them to beware. Let them not try to discover what I am, for it were better that they were never born than to incur the wrath of the Axeman.
Now, to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to visit again.
The Axeman
It was the Axeman’s famous letter that first appeared in the New Orleans Times-Picayune newspaper in 1919. Only now it was on my bathroom mirror and it had today’s date. I heard myself screaming at the exact time that I twirled around on my toes, before running headlong into Christopher’s black cape.
“Yow!” he yelled. He spun around to face me, his cape catching air and billowing over my head. I screamed again, thinking the Axeman was enveloping me in his darkness. Then I felt cold hands on my upper arms as the cape fell away and I looked up at an enraged Christopher.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he screamed at me, his eyes popping out of his head.
But I was too breathless to think, and much too overwhelmed and terrified to make a sound. Instead, I shook my head as I turned around, pointing to the mirror. Christopher gave me a bizarre expression, which I didn’t understand, before entering the bathroom and approaching the mirror. He stood there for a few seconds while he read the Axeman’s message.
That was when I noticed his companion—a slightly overweight African American woman with a beautiful face, full lips, and wide brown eyes. She was maybe in her late forties or early fifties. She wore a red-and-purple head scarf thing that looked like a turban, based on the way she’d wrapped it on her head. Her blouse was red and white and matched the floor-length skirt that billowed out from her waist.
Her eyes were closed as she hummed something to herself. Then, she turned around and held her arms out before her as if she were blindly groping toward the door. Moments later, she opened her eyes and looked at me as she shook her head.
“This is no good, Christopher,” she said in a Southern accent. That really threw me because, judging by her appearance, I figured she was Jamaican or Haitian.
Even though she spoke to Christopher, her eyes remained on me. I heard the sound of Christopher’s footsteps as he walked back into the bedroom.
“It’s far worse than not good, Lovie,” he answered with a deeply heartfelt sigh. He spun on his toes and stared at me. “It’s a demon,” he announced, as if I hadn’t already read the letter and figured that much out for myself.
“Did you notice the date?” I inquired, wondering if my heartbeat would regulate anytime soon.
“Today’s date,” he answe
red. Lovie started for the bathroom, her curiosity no doubt piqued by what we’d said about the letter.
I nodded. “It says he’s going to visit again next Tuesday night…,” I started. Taking another deep breath, I began to feel dizzy. “Based on the fact that it’s dated with today’s date, do you think it’s safe to assume he means this coming Tuesday? April 22?”
“I believe in instances such as this one, it is always better to assume the worst and plan accordingly,” Christopher answered. I figured that was a yes. Christopher chewed his lip. “We must act quickly, then,” he concluded.
At that moment, Lovie returned from the bathroom and faced us both with a worried expression. “This demon is growin’ stronger,” she announced. “I can feel its energy pulsin’ throughout this house. I’m havin’ a difficult time keepin’ my psychic walls up.”
“If you need to take a break, Lovie, go outside,” Christopher answered matter-of-factly.
I faced him and from the corner of my eye, caught Lovie shaking her head. My heartbeat started to pound again. “Can you tell if Drake is still here?” I demanded. “Is he still with us?”
Christopher closed his eyes, and moments later they started to twitch like he was in REM sleep. When he reopened them, he eyed me and simply nodded. But his expression didn’t bring me any sort of comfort. “He is waning rapidly.”
“Then we have to get on with it!” I announced, throwing my hands in the air like we’d spent too much time gabbing when we should have been focusing on Drake. “Whatever we have to do to keep him safe, we need to do it now!”
Lovie glanced at Christopher with a dubious look on her face. “Have you explained to her,” she started, but Christopher’s crisp shake of his head interrupted her.
“I have not,” he answered as they both turned their eyes from each other to me.
“Explained what to me?” I demanded.
Christopher arched one eyebrow, which lent him a serious expression. “Explained what is involved to save your friend from this entity.”
“I don’t care!” I rebutted. “Whatever it’s going to take, we need to do it and we need to start now!”
Christopher cleared his throat as Lovie frowned. “In order to save him, you must make a very personal sacrifice,” he said.
I shook my head in wonder, because I had no clue what he was talking about. “A personal sacrifice? What does that mean? Like donate some blood?” For some reason, the image of a ritual involving a few drops of my blood was playing through my mind.
“Blood is not enough,” Christopher said between tight lips. “You must share your body with him.”
“Huh?” I managed, thinking this was sounding like we were delving into some weird ghost-sex area that I found not only uncomfortable but also unfeasible—at least, as far as I knew.
“You gotta allow his spirit to possess you!” Lovie exclaimed impatiently. She sounded both frustrated and amused as she shook her head at Christopher.
“Possess me?” I repeated, thinking maybe I should have read the fine print before I signed myself up for saving Drake’s soul.
“It wouldn’t be like The Exorcist,” Christopher said. Waving a hand at me, he implied that I was overreacting. “You both would simply share the same body.”
“Share my body?” I repeated again, thinking the idea sounded completely unattractive.
“It’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Christopher continued. “My domicile has been shared with many spirits over the years.”
I supposed “sharing a domicile” was the euphemism for demonic possession. Although it didn’t exactly surprise me to learn Christopher had been possessed; based on his career as a warlock, it sort of seemed par for the course. I also had to wonder if he was possessed now, because the way he dressed and spoke seemed anachronistic, to say the least. As far as my willingness to allow myself to be possessed, now that was an altogether different subject.
“Yer soul would have priority ova yer body,” Lovie interjected. “It wouldn’t be as though the foreign spirit could control you.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Christopher agreed. “All it really means for you is having an extra voice in your head.” I wasn’t exactly happy with the current voices I heard in my head.
“An’ you would also share his power,” Lovie added. “That could be a big benefit when dealin’ with the spiritual world.” She started to nod as if she were in the midst of convincing herself. “The other thin’ ta consider is that this spirit, Drake, has been protectin’ you from the malevolence o’ this house all along.”
Christopher nodded. “True, Lovie, true.”
“What’s the importance of that?” I asked, shrugging.
“His power must be strong, considerin’ how long he fended off the entity’s advances. If you allow him ta join you, he can continue protectin’ you, only now he’ll pull more strength from yer life energy, which will make his own power that much stronger,” Lovie answered.
Hmm, I couldn’t say it sounded too bad especially when I remembered when the entity had attacked me. If not for Drake, I probably would have become a member of the spirit world myself. So there were some pros to this possession thing buried in the cons. “The entity already attacked me but Drake was able to fend it off,” I said before taking a deep breath.
“It already gone after you?” Lovie repeated, eyeing me spearingly.
I simply nodded as she turned her attention to Christopher and both her eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. Christopher returned her knowing expression before resting his eyes on mine. He then closed his eyes and reached out to me, touching my arm. He was quiet for about seven seconds as he nodded and his eyelids started twitching again. When he opened his eyes, his mouth was caught in a straight white line. “Were it not for Drake, you would not be standing here now,” he said with certainty in his tone. Then he turned toward Lovie. “This possession needs to take place for her own protection. The entity is increasingly gaining strength and dominion over her and this house. If we do not buttress her defensive aura with Drake’s strength, this malevolence will most definitely be able to claim her.”
Lovie just nodded before they both faced me. “Is possession the only way to ensure that Drake doesn’t get killed, for lack of a better word, by this demon?” I asked, setting my own needs aside for the moment.
Both of them nodded. I felt a little sick as I quickly weighed my options. Drake was losing his battle with the demon. Even worse, if it did eliminate him, it would come after me. And apparently according to Christopher, the only thing standing between this demon and me at the moment was Drake. If his power could be enhanced by my life energy and he could better protect me, then why wouldn’t I agree to it? And, really, how bad could possession be?
Famous last words.
I took a deep breath and then exhaled it. “Okay, what do we need to do?”
Christopher inhaled deeply and then exhaled before he faced Lovie, his expression hard. “Are you ready for this, Lovie? I, for one, certainly did not prepare myself for a possession when I received her phone call.” He glanced back at me with a raised brow like it was my fault I hadn’t warned him that he might be possessing me with Drake’s soul. Then he returned his attention to Lovie.
She quietly nodded. “I attempt ta prepare mahself for all varieties o’ unexpected situations.”
“Do we have everything we require?” Christopher continued as he tapped his fingers against his other arm and glanced around himself as if expecting to find a list of useful items for possession on the walls of the guest bedroom.
Lovie nodded again. “I believe so.”
Christopher chewed his lower lip. “Did you bring Raven or Claude?” he asked, before cracking his knuckles. “I really hope you brought Raven.”
Lovie beamed up at him, apparently pleased that he would be pleased by her information, and nodded. “I got this feelin’ before we left that Raven would be our better choice.”
“Very good, Lovie, very good,” Chri
stopher responded with a genuine smile.
“Raven?” I asked, glancing between the two of them. “Who is Raven?” I couldn’t say I was exactly thrilled by the idea that there might be one other witch, warlock, fairy, vampire, or werewolf to witness this possession.
Christopher faced me with the expression of someone who’d just remembered I was still in the room. “Raven is a human skull,” he answered matter-of-factly as my mouth dropped open in accordance. “Raven is the better skull to have brought with us for the purposes of your situation because her lower jaw is still intact as well as all her teeth, which means she is truly a necromantic skull and will be able to converse with us and your spirit far better than Claude could, owing to the fact that he’s missing his jaw.”
I reminded myself not to ask any more questions because I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be prepared for Christopher’s responses. I was spared the need to say much more as Christopher immediately started for the hallway. Lovie was right behind him. He glanced back at me and called out over his shoulder, “We shall return momentarily after we retrieve our things.”
“Okay,” I responded as I wondered if I’d just gotten myself in over my head. Human skulls? Was it even legal to own a human skull and, furthermore, how in the hell had Christopher and Lovie procured one? I suddenly had an image of the two of them digging one up and hoped that scenario was as far from the truth as possible. And, really, there was no way I was going to broach the topic with the reluctant warlock so I figured I’d never know.
Christopher and Lovie were gone for maybe ten minutes before I heard the sounds of their footsteps on the pathway up to the front door, which Christopher had left open. I met them in the foyer. “Do you need help carrying anything?” I offered.
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