Dark Arts: Rising

by Randolph Lalonde

  “We’re talking lottery?”

  “Yup. Medium sized prizes as much as I can figure.”

  “Did he get the knowledge here?”

  “Some. I don’t make it easy to put all the pieces together though. He’s smart, uses the Internet too. Heard the girls talking about it when they were making candles in the back, that’s what Christie does for me most of the time.”

  “Pretty heavy magic. Figures though, the Internet is changing everything.”

  “I still can’t believe he managed to pull it off,” Bernie whispered in disbelief.

  Max’s pager buzzed, nearly vibrating its way off the edge of the counter. Bernie caught it and jumped as someone crashed into the interlocking metal barrier blocking the mall entrance.

  “Let me in!” Angela cried, panicked, frantically shaking the gate.

  Part V: The Truth

  Bernie was on his feet and half way to the security gate with key in hand before Max had a chance to step around the end of the counter. The shopkeeper opened the gate and Angela ran inside, tripping on her own skirt or her own feet, no one could tell, and skidding to a stop on her knees.

  The gate was closed an instant later and Max carefully helped her up, looking her over. “I’m Maxwell, old friend of Bernie’s,” he soothed.

  She was shaken, frightened, but already recovering.

  Max could see she needed to tell someone about something, and being a stranger, it wouldn’t be him. Bernie directed her to a table beside the stairs and was about to sit her down when Christie intercepted her, colliding in as big a hug as she could manage.”Are you okay?”

  “Thank God you’re still here,” Angela whispered. “It’s like a horror movie out there. I watched someone get possessed. The mirrors have…” she couldn’t find the words and just shook her head and let the tears start falling. Relief brought realization, and as though she was just then feeling the trauma of her ordeal she started shaking.

  “They’re doorways for everything that’s managed to stay close enough to the living to see through,” Maxwell explained.

  “The sign you were waiting for?” Bernie asked as he sat down at the table.

  Michael was slowly descending the stairs, watching everyone, taking it all in.

  Maxwell nodded. “That would be it.” He turned his attention to Michael. ”You know about mirrors?”

  Michael nodded slowly. “How did you know?” he glanced at Bernie.

  “It marked you. Whatever you consorted with left its mark. I’m not judging, I’ve been marked a few times myself. May as well have a seat.” Max took a seat at the table and cracked his knuckles. A tattoo of a flame behind a medieval cross was on one hand while fine vines splayed across the other. The sound of his cracking digits made Christie shudder. “Now tell me what you saw Vera.” He was startled at his slip, ashamed at the specter he’d raised.

  Angela looked at him, confused. She wiped her tears away, calm settling over her. “That was my mother’s name.”

  “If ever there were a time, this isn’t it,” Max muttered to himself. “I knew her before she met your father. She was a good woman even then, smarter than me by far. I was sorry to hear of her passing.” He didn’t want to go on, he wanted to just leave it at that, but it had to be mentioned. “If you see her in a mirror, don’t trust it. Chances are it’s not her.” The hurt that caused was immediately evident.

  Angela tried to hide the downturn in her spirits. He had quashed the hope to see her mother who had died of cancer two years before. Afraid that she’d burst into tears if she tried to speak she simply nodded.

  “Why would you say something like that?” Christine asked accusingly.

  Maxwell stood and walked to the counter, picking up his vibrating pager. “Because her mum’s moved on to a place far from here. Whether you call it Elysian, paradise or heaven, I’d bet my coat she’s there. You won’t be seeing her in a mirror, at least not today.”

  “Was it just one mirror or?” Michael asked Angela quietly as he sat down across from her.

  “All of them had extra faces. It’s like they were watching, looking for something or trying to get at me. I saw one possess a woman at Cuppa. She killed Scott before I could do anything.”

  “How did you get away?” Maxwell asked as he dug inside the pockets of his jacket for something.

  “I ran before she could turn on me and hid in a bathroom stall. My reflection spoke to me after I’d calmed down a bit. It was so powerful. I couldn’t move, it was like she was holding me. She wanted me to pass on a message; ‘the covenant of death is broken.’”

  Bernie sighed and put his head in his hand.

  “What? What does that mean?” Asked Christie.

  Maxwell put his pager down on the table along with a small velvet bag. The display scrolled; WAIT THERE – LOOKING FOR HIM. “Seems like I have some time. I’ll tell you, but first, I have to give Bernie here some credit. He’s kept this place as blessed and pure as a church. You’re all safe here.”

  “These three know something about that, they’ve all helped me with some kind of cleansing at one point or another,” Bernie acknowledged.

  “Good, then you’ll know what to do when I’m gone. A place like this also picks up energy from the people who pass through, you should cleanse it once I’m through the door.”

  “Why don’t we get started now? We can do it while you explain things.” Christie started to get up.

  “Wait ‘till I’ve gone,” Max repeated quietly but insistently.

  Bernie reinforced the suggestion with a nod.

  “Now back to business, I don’t think I have much time. The covenant of death is just one important part of how spirituality works. It’s like a bargain that was struck between man, the divine, and what dwells in the darkness between. There are ways to commune with things that shouldn’t exist in our world, but there’s a good reason why it’s not easy. Possessions and conjurings have all been dismiss able, cleanse able by mankind. It’s easier for us to get rid of them than it is for most influences to stay with us. Are you with me so far?”

  Angela nodded and Christie leaned forward, very interested in what Maxwell was saying. “So we have the upper hand when spirits and energy tries to act in the material world, right?”

  “Exactly. Normally, there are exceptions. Not many exceptions, but none of that matters now. The bargain is almost always balanced by our inability to cheat death. We’re bound by the laws of science and medicine. Healing by sheer force of will or with the help of the divine takes a lot of effort and it’s rare,” Maxwell stood and began to pace. “But mankind, not bloody bright enough to leave well enough alone, is constantly pressing the barriers, trying to find a way around the covenant to find short cuts to wealth, love, health, revenge, whatever you like and without saying a ‘by your leave’ to the divine light above us. I can’t say I’m innocent of that. The more we rely on the shortcuts for whatever we desire, the better it works because whatever’s cooperating on the other gains power over us, power we give them. So, it falls to someone very special to restore the covenant before it’s completely broken. The last person to do it died on a cross almost two thousand years ago. What the good book says is true: he died for our sins, all our sins. Not just greed, lust, murder, and the rest of the top ten, but all the spiritual ones as well. Just to show everyone that he was divine and man at once and to inspire lasting faith he resurrected himself and ascended willingly. Now I’m not going to try to get any of you kids to church, or force you into some born again parish but it’s important to look at what it took last time doors started to open. One man better than any of us died in the worst way, came back and right in front of all his loved ones he left this world again, knowing that he wouldn’t see any of them until they joined him in paradise. Bloody shook the heavens and everything beneath, he did. Shut all the doors that should have never been pried open in the first place.”

  “So Christ was real?” Christie asked in disbelief.

  “
As real as the nose on your face, luv. A lot of things are real, more than you’d imagine. Except for big foot, he’s just an outrageously tall woodcutter who plodded around the woods with a fur coat and bare feet for a few days. Good joke, that.”

  “But the covenant is broken.” Michael said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

  “It is. For twenty eight years I’ve been chasing a man named Zachary Ellison. He’s crossed the world a dozen times or more, unearthing the secrets to resurrection and finding ways to finish the sacrament on his own. Along the way he’s been causing trouble and leaving me to clean up his mess. At first there were a whole bunch of us. Your mother was one of the first on this shore, looking for the dark, finding the practitioners and ways to get them locked up or binding their power. Then she met your father and saw you in her future. A few others left the fold like that, they were the lucky ones. Old Zachary killed half, possessed a few who let their guards down and well, now it’s just me and a couple others who were left scattered, trying to deal with a few other problems. From thirty five there are three of us left,” he walked over to the table and dumped the contents of the velvet bag. There were two more silver rings with the seal of Solomon painstakingly crafted within a circle. “These will protect you from possession if you’re forced to leave. They come with the blessings of the last Priest of my order and the High Wiccan Priestess of Germany.”

  Michael picked one up and examined it. “It looks like a late medieval version ”

  “The second founding of the order had to create their own protection signet with the help of several spiritual leaders, I’m dodgy on the history behind it, haven’t had much time to do recreational study over the last few decades. Wear ‘em. At least tonight,” he handed the one he had shown Bernie earlier to Angela. “This’ll fit you proper.”

  Christie put hers on her left thumb and looked at it. “Perfect fit. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, miss. This mirror business is a symptom of the covenant Zachary has broken tonight. He’s been possessing one person after another for decades and before I could find him he finished the rite of resurrection. Now he’s up and walking around in his own skin again. Should have never happened, turns all those little cracks in the divide between man and everything else into great big holes.”

  “Why would he bother? If he can possess people-” Michael started.

  “What is it you’ve been teaching these kids?” Max asked Bernie, exasperated.

  “I don’t offer, I just point them in the right direction when they ask for advice and try to make sure they don’t get into anything they can’t handle. Except for Christie of course.”

  “I never leave him alone, always chasing him around with questions,” she grinned. Her spirits were already rising despite the dire news.

  “Bloody hell, since I don’t have time to lecture I’ll give you the quick of it,” Max sighed. “When a spirit takes hold of someone they can’t go walking into places watched by the divine. Consecrated ground like grave yards and tombs are fine if not exactly where they’d like to be because those are really nothing more than places to plant your dead. The Divine is more concerned with the living and that makes places of worship or sanctuary off limits to most. That, and when you possess someone you’re constantly fighting for control, the skin your in is never your own. When you’re brought back in your own factory original corpse and get the old heart pumpin’ you can go wandering about in churches and temples again.”

  “And they don’t need to fight anything for control,” Angela added, putting the ring on. It felt right somehow. “There’s one of these in my mother’s things. Do you have a guide like she did?”

  Maxwell stopped and looked at her, astonished. His pager buzzed against the table so hard it nearly flipped over. “Bloody thing,” he said as he snatched it up and read it. “I’ll bloody tell her whatever I like and you’re in no position to argue.” he spat at it, clipping it to his hip. “That would be him. Nathan, the one who passed on as I took my place in the order. He’s looking for Zachary right now. I have to kill him, the dark ones that have risen with him should be drawn back. Can’t repair the damage completely though, no telling what will happen in the long term. It’s not like we’ve got a Messiah hotline, can’t just force another miracle to repair all the damage.”

  The pager buzzed on his belt again. Maxwell checked it without unclipping it and nodded to himself. “Nathan says Zack’s got my scent. He’s coming and I can’t fight him here. Best of luck, I’m off. Stay here until it’s over.” He retrieved his hat from the counter beside the cash register and strode for the rear door without a backwards glance.

  All four of them watched as the weathered Brit opened the steel door and continued on into the rain. They watched until the security door slammed behind him on its own.

  “Wasn’t that locked?” Christie asked quietly.

  “Locks have never been a problem for old Max,” Bernie muttered.

  “Why is Zachary after him?” Michael asked. He was examining the ring he’d been given, looking at the additions to the simple double triangle symbol. A sword, heart, sun and two joined hands had been etched at the four corners around the central star.

  Bernie didn’t answer at first. He stood and went to the main counter where he put away the glasses and screwed the top onto the whiskey bottle. Everyone was looking at him by the time he offered an explanation. “Maxwell killed him the first time around.”

  Part VI: Bitter Reunion

  “Zachary!” Shouted Maxwell over the spatter of heavy rain and rolling thunder. The thick drops rolled off his stetson and down the back of his duster jacket. The long, dark alleyway amplified the hiss of the rain hitting the slick concrete between the pair.

  “Murderer,” Zachary replied slowly from the pit of his stomach, relishing the feel of the word’s every syllable.

  “You’ve turned this city on its ear and I won’t let it spread.”

  “Oh come on! If it’s good enough for the almighty it’s good enough for us!” he exclaimed, raising his hands in mock praise. “It’s like he’ll eat at the same table with us but when it’s time for the evening brandy we get shuffled off to the kiddie corner! Wouldn’t you leap at the chance to bring Vera back? Perhaps even Nathan. You could get the old gang together instead of taking messages from your old mate from that pager you carry around.”

  “At what cost? Open the door to demonic congress? Create a new social imbalance? Adepts would become more powerful than anyone’s seen since the Pharaohs.”

  Zachary stalked towards Maxwell, closing to within a few meters, he was furious. “Can’t have that, now can we? You worked all your life for the power you’ve accumulated, searched as far and wide as I have while you tried to exorcise me to God knows where! Now I’m back in the flesh and-”

  Maxwell tore his shirt open and spread his arms wide. The tattoo of a white winged angel was artfully rendered across his stomach.

  Zachary had no time to respond, covering his head with his forearms instead.

  The alleyway in front of Maxwell was flooded with pure white light as he strained to channel flames unlike any mortal had seen for millennium.

  When he opened his eyes Zachary was still standing in the middle of the darkened alley, grinning brightly. “Can’t smite someone whose resurrected. Your good Lord forgot to remind you humans are never pure evil. Too bad too, looks like that tattoo took a while.”

  “God has better things to do than to whisper instructions on how to end a waster like you,” Maxwell growled as he drew two long bowie knives from his coat and closed the distance between them. The blades were perfectly poised for Zachary’s throat and passed straight through. Maxwell didn’t have time to stop himself and followed through Zachary’s image, running headlong into a dumpster.

  A peal of belly laughter erupted from Zachary’s image. “Did you really think I’d let Nathan track me down so you could kill me again? I knew you’d have some kind of ridiculously h
eavy handed solution all ready. Why would I slip up now that I’m in my own skin again?”

  Maxwell spun on his feet and raised a hand. “Let the truth of this be made plain.” A tattoo of a still flame on the back of his hand came to life then, lighting the alley momentarily.

  “No need to exhaust yourself with more spells and incantations. I’ll tell you where I am. Right now I’m introducing myself to your little girl, I bet she looks just like her mother.”

  “He’s coming,” sang the woman from the Cuppa coffee shop. She was standing, grinning, staring through the metal security gate.

  Christie jumped and stared at her. Her blouse, neck, chin and mouth were stained in blood, her blond hair was a tangle. Christie slipped off the chair and slowly moved out of sight around the corner.

  “Little one should guard her looks. Those stares’ll land you in trouble.”

  “Don’t worry, she can’t get in,” Bernie reassured. “Even if she could break the gate the blessings on this space will keep anything possessed out just fine.”

  “Who’s coming?” Asked Michael firmly, getting to his feet slowly.

  “The one who opened the gates. Freedom follows him, our liberator, our savior.”

  “Who are you?”

  “The first of many, little boy. Come closer, I have a secret for you,” she smirked, cocking her head.

  Her eyes were an unearthly blue, such an ocean deep shade. He could feel them on him, piercing him from out of her comely, white and pink face. The tear streaked eye liner only emphasized the blond above and the gore below, leading to her ruby red lips. They were juicy, surrounding a grin that grew wider, wider, framing pearly white teeth.

  “Michael!” shouted Bernie, grabbing the collar of his long coat, roughly hauling him back from the gate.

  He had come within a foot of the barrier, the woman screeched as he took hurried steps back. “Young flesh! Bring it back! It’s been so long since I’ve tasted hot meat!”