Sekhet

  “Do your damn job, Victor,” Lucy spat, but as soon as the words came out, she realized what she had done. The sneer in her direction told her she was about to get what she asked for, whether she liked it or not. “That was not what I meant and you know it. You are the only one who can hear me, the least you could do is communicate for me.”

  During this discussion, Victor had drawn attention to himself, where usually people would choose to ignore him, or put as much distance between the crazy man conversing with himself on the corner of a busy street, but Veronica was holding onto his every word, facial expression, and irritated form as he listened to Lucy.

  Veronica, for one, did pity Victor. Lucy had been extremely callous in her living life where folks’ feelings were thrown to the wayside as she attacked, and furthermore, she had an ability to mock the saintliest of people when she deemed it necessary. Although for some reason never with Veronica, and for this reason alone, Veronica found her voice.

  “There are so many reasons I have learned not to do this.” Shaking her head, Veronica continued, “Nothing is ever really alive when it comes back. Not alive as you wish someone to be. Some try to kill the first thing they set their eyes on, not to mention we have no idea what would be attached to her by this time. You know this could be so much worse than just explaining her death to the local police. Do we even know what we are going to tell people?” Veronica asked, glancing from Dot to Victor, the only one who knew she was right, hoping one of them had thought of an alternative.

  “We could just tell them she fell down the stairs and broke her neck,” Victor said with a shrug. “After all, it happens every day.”

  “What! Are you kidding me right now? Fell down the stairs and broke my neck? How very unexciting,” Lucy retorted venomously.

  “What would you like us to tell people, then?” Victor asked, looking to Lucy for her input.

  “Fine!” Throwing her arms in the air dramatically, Lucy stomped over to her body and cringed at the sight. “Wow, I really do not rot well.”

  As her shoulders sank in defeat, Victor felt an unexpected sense of regret, leaving him to kick himself for being such a fool. Lucy had been in his life for as long as he could remember, as bad as she usually was to him, she had been the one who picked him up in times of absolute torment, when his own parents had had no idea how to help him.

  Walking to Lucy, Victor knew that even the impression of placing his hand upon her shoulder would bring her some small comfort. Of course, little did people know when a ghost was this young in the world of the deceased, a necromancer could physically touch her – if she so willed it. It wasn’t something he did on a daily basis, if ever, only now, if he could give Lucy anything, this was it.

  As Lucy put her head on his shoulder, their roles had reversed in that very moment. Her tears would have wet his shirt if at all possible, and while her cries made his throat grow dry, he wanted so much to find a way to give her what she desired.

  “Ronny, people can be brought back from the dead for a short time.” Raising his hand to stop Veronica just as she was about to speak, Victor continued, “I know that is true for a normal, everyday person. Lucy was a powerful witch, surely strong enough to last a little longer if only to clear up a few things with her daughter. Honestly, Ronny, I would be able to bring her back, not in full form, but enough for her to speak for herself. It would need to be a brighter place than the basement. Will we have a full moon tonight?”

  Nervously moving her head back and forth, Veronica looked at Dot. “I have no idea.”

  “How long would you need?” Dot asked, worry getting the better of her.

  “For what you are asking, it may be tricky,” Veronica admitted, “if the spirit is being pulled from the other side.”

  Pointing a finger at Veronica, Victor said, “If you agree to help, I know this is not your realm of expertise, but out of everyone here, I feel you may be the most level headed. We don’t need a full moon, but it would be helpful.”

  “It is about time you took the lead.” Veronica’s voice cut into him like a knife in his stomach. Ronny was right, he shouldn’t expect her to do what comes naturally to him, as much as he still wished it didn’t.

  “There is a full moon tomorrow, Victor,” Lucy informed him.

  “Are you sure?” Victor asked, looking to his right, “Okay, put her on ice until tomorrow. Burn some sage, or whatever you have to burn to get rid of the smell,” he added, looking from Dot to Natasha to Veronica.

  “Where are you going?” Dot asked.

  “Up to see Joe, for starters,” Victor answered.

  “Right. Ladies, you heard the man, let’s get organized.” Dot’s voice was stronger now, “Veronica, make a list of what you both need; I am more than sure we have everything, but if not, we will call on our sisters for aid. Natasha, get to the store and get as much ice as they have. If they ask questions just make something up, the freezer is on the brink, whatever.”

  A hand wave told Natasha to get going. Dot had turned into the business woman, and order was about to be restored. Natasha chose to ignore her instructions to buy ice, as she was quite capable of casting a spell to turn tap water into ice, but instead of voicing her opinion on the matter, she just nodded and went upstairs to the kitchen.

  ***

  Sitting down on a basement step, warily watching Lucy, Victor rested his hand upon the box his father had gifted him. He felt compelled to take a moment to really look at the box, feeling the power emanating from within.

  Its heptagonal form, with a simple snap hinge, it was nothing thrilling, never rousing suspicion that it was anything other than an old box. It was certainly not something a thief would be interested in when expensive, state-of-the-art electronics were on display.

  He cracked open the lid of the box and heard a faint creak as the old hinge protested.

  The stench was the same as the first time he had ever opened it, only this time, he didn’t shut it with a grunt of disgust. So much had happened since his teenage years of hating the world. Admittedly he still hadn’t experienced life in many ways, but he was beginning to realize it wasn’t all bad.

  Touching some of the smaller objects nestled in the folds of the purple velvet lining, Victor became mindful of the fact that he had already seen so much of the things that disgusted him before. The hair, the animal bone shards, blood caked skin…then he saw a cylinder he had not noticed until now.

  From the inside of the lid, he removed a worn sheet of paper, folded neatly and perfectly creased – which over time had cut into the writing slightly. Nothing he couldn’t make out, even in the dim light. Its texture of the paper was smooth, somewhat thicker than a normal sheet.

  From what he could recall about a scroll he studied some years earlier, he thought this paper was similar in many ways to the early papers from the 14th century.

  This paper may have been made using the inner bark of trees, boiled, and then pounded it until it was finally the texture needed for writing; an author leaving his words of wisdom for humanity, or maybe some bullshit love letter to the woman who had already moved onto the next man. Opening it carefully, Victor began to read.

  Swelling has appeared in hard, painful lumps which later split open displaying a foul smelling pus. Shortly afterwards, the blood started coming from all parts of the body.

  In the man’s stool, his urine, along with the black boils which had formed beneath his crusty covered skin, which are now bursting and bringing great pain as they rip the membrane open.

  I have decided that when this man dies I will bring him back to life, only unlike many before him that I had not studied so carefully for days, I feel an urge to succeed, with hope that this time, the dead will not return like the monsters they have been to date. I wonder if it is this disease taking over their minds. That it is not Lucifer himself coming into this realm in a bid to bring them back to where they belong. Am I restoring life to those who are already doomed to the fate of hell and all it contains? />
  I will document my findings when this poor man gives up the good fight.

  Turning the letter over to read the next entry, Victor frowned when all it showed was a red blotch of what could have been blood, or ink; he had no idea.

  “Shit,” was all he said, folding it back carefully into its resting place.

  “Do you think he was talking about zombies?”

  Lucy’s voice didn’t surprise Victor, causing him to just shrug his shoulders. “Who knows? Daniel left it in there for a reason, ask him.”

  Victor turned to look at Lucy, feeling a sudden pang of pity for the woman who used to sneak around Seattle just to spot her daughter from a distance. Suddenly, Victor remembered one of those times when Lucy had made one of those few and far between visits to Seattle to catch a glimpse of Molly.

  He had watched her, never crossing the street to say hi, as she just stood there with that strange smile upon her face. Victor had caught sight of her just as she turned down 1st Avenue and stopped outside ‘Haunted in Seattle.’ A Tour of Paranormal Artifacts which to Lucy’s amusement made her laugh out loud, not caring as the tour guide threw her a quizzical look.

  The poster on the window had grabbed her attention:

  Seattle Ghost Tours Led by Real Ghost Hunters.

  During the ninety minutes of goose bumps and

  Oohhs and Aahhs, evidence will be introduced

  to blow the mind.

  The smallprint at the very bottom of the page declared: The Tour guide and Museum will not be held responsible for any injuries to participants.

  Again, Lucy had laughed, but to the museum owner’s surprise, Lucy had entered the shop, bought herself a ticket and had gone on the tour with hopes of learning something new and exciting.

  She hadn’t, and declared to all in ear shot, which included Victor, that it was a waste of her money, and time that she would never get back. However, the very excitable and somewhat attractive man who had taken them on the journey of a lifetime was easy on the eyes, so she would pardon them for this farce.

  “What do you want, Victor?” Lucy had demanded, turning around to face him as she had opened the door to the Cherry Street Coffee House.

  “How was the tour?” he had snorted, resulting in her throwing him an out-of-patience look, and jerking her head in the direction of the table by the window. Victor had watched Lucy taking her coffee, with a smile at the young woman behind the counter, then making her way back toward him, red nails tapping on the disposable cup. Sitting down, she had pulled the outer covering off with an exaggerated groan.

  “I hate these damn zarfs!” Lucy had said, throwing the cardboard to the side, and he couldn’t help but splutter a chuckle as he had reflected how Molly had the same feeling when it came to the dreaded zarfs.

  “I didn’t realize you were in town,” he said, motioning to the young woman near the list of coffee and daily specials displayed brightly on a chalk board over her head.

  “Why don’t you snap your fingers just to make sure she grasps that your refusal to walk over to the counter to order is because it’s below your pay grade?” Lucy’s tone had held distaste as she had looked toward the young woman in apology, receiving a small smile in return. “Again, what do you want Victor?”

  “Can’t a friend just say hello?” He remembered with chagrin now how his pretense of wounded offense had been enough to make her laugh.

  “We aren’t friends.” The bite in her response had surprised the young woman – who by now had arrived with his coffee, much to Lucy’s amusement and Victor’s forced thank you.

  “Molly is fine.” Taking a long sip from his coffee cup, Victor had paused, watching Lucy’s face for any sign of serenity, considering Molly was the obvious reason she was in Seattle. None had come.

  “What is this? Family counseling? Let me guess, I tell you my deepest feelings and you pretend to know what to say?” Lucy’s derision had been more than evident, forcing Victor to overcome his strong desire to look away as he maintained eye contact. Lucy had grunted, gotten to her feet, clearly having decided the conversation was over, only this time she had held the door for him as she left.

  Three hours later he had been weeping on her shoulder behind closed doors, thanks to good old Captain Morgan. That was the first time he had ever had to deal with a murdered child.

  It had also been the first time he had witnessed a softness in Lucy’s demeanor. Remembering this, he was determined to try to help her now.

  In the basement, he told Lucy, “You need to know that if tomorrow night doesn’t go according to plan, I will have no control over who claims you. The Otherworld is a place where souls wait to be reborn but it is also filled with deities and powerful spirits looking for new playmates.”

  “I don’t think that sounds so bad.” Smiling at Victor’s surprised raised eyebrows, Lucy continued, “I quite enjoy the Irish take on the Otherworld in comparison to some. They say it is paradise, filled with pleasure, complete with an endless summer. Beautiful young women are destined to greet warriors at the entrance with a song, accompanied by a promise of eternal spring. Not that I am a warrior, but you get my meaning. The Goddess Fand is said to watch over the Otherworld.”

  Stopping, she looked at a smiling Victor who for the first time was genuinely listening to her every word. “I think I would like to meet her; of course I won’t accept an apple from her, after all, I am already dead, and so she wouldn’t be fooling me, like she has done to so many. While Lucifer may not seem like the best choice, I know what I am getting for my money. Right?”

  “Why do you think Lucifer would lay claim to you?”

  “Where do you think we go? Convince St. Peter to let us in to spend eternity floating on a cloud? We are the supernatural. Victor, you really are tired.” Laughing, Lucy paused to look at him, her face serious now with determination. “If it’s all right with you, Victor, I would like to make my way to the Otherworld, if given the chance to do so, before anyone else lays claim to my soul. Can you do that for me?”

  “I will try my best.”

  Her nod of agreement ended the conversation as she disappeared yet again from his side.

  CHAPTER 21

  A Woman Scorned

  The night was long and drawn out as they all waited and watched in dread that Sekhet would return.

  Joe tossed and turned in Molly’s bed, where they have lovingly placed him, out of it from pain and fever and blistering skin, except for two episodes where he sat bolt upright in the bed, scarlet face covered with sweat, mumbling something about a river of blood and the words sceleta and tenebris.

  Skeletons and Darkness. Molly had found in an internet search.

  As Joe mumbled them over and over, Victor had to wonder when he took the time to learn Latin, not that he himself knew the language, but he had heard these words before. Skeletons and Darkness rang loudly in Victor’s ears. He watched Joe’s body shake on occasion while his dreams dragged him deeper into a bottomless multi-layered unconsciousness, a place they could never know, hoping that one day, Joe would survive. And recover from whatever had etched into his mind, to leave him in peace.

  Joe showed his true strength, fighting against whatever it was holding tightly to his inner self, even as his screams brought Molly to tears more than once deep into the night. His skin was back to its normal color. Even though he was literally burning holes in the floorboards, his temperature ranged between 99 and 102 degrees. This was a step in the right direction.

  Dot, who had at long last stopped scrubbing the house top to bottom, settled into her chair by the window. No one asked or questioned her reasoning for breaking into a sudden spring cleaning spree in June, but if it stopped her from breaking down, they all kept their opinions to themselves. Her daughter was dead, her granddaughter was still caught smack bang in the middle of something that could destroy them all and her house; her home was the battleground.

  Looking out at the night’s sky, her mind raced with thoughts of Lucy. There w
ere times she had been appalled by her daughter’s actions, remorseful when Lucy herself showed none, and determined to change her no matter the cost – to where Dot had grown worn-out sugar-coating all the crap Lucy brought to her door over the years.

  But underneath it all, underneath the hard persona Lucy had presented to the world since her early years, Dot had watched her only child’s heart break every time Molly walked away from yet another argument. Glancing at the stairs now, Dot couldn’t help but wonder if her granddaughter’s heart felt as heavy as hers.

  Daniel arrived an hour before sunrise, much to Victor’s relief, shocking all who knew both of them. Victor filled his father in on what had occurred the night before, plus knowing his skill all too well, Victor was sure that together they could help Lucy, if only for a short time. Victor didn’t even need to be there and Daniel knew it, but if this was the breakthrough Victor needed to build his own powers, enabling him to grow into the necromancer his father knew he could be, Daniel was going to have to keep his mouth shut.

  In the basement, Daniel walked over to Lucy. No longer was she on the table spread out like someone ready to be laid out for viewing before friends and family in the funeral home’s reception room. She had been moved to the middle of the room and placed – to his amusement – in a kiddie pool filled with ice. Daniel had no intention of asking where the heavy blue plastic, slightly oval shaped pool had come from, and Victor hadn’t seen it as important to share the information that he had gotten it from the kids next door.

  Taking Lucy’s hand, which had been covering a red butterfly with green wings, Daniel threw Victor a rueful smile. Her hand was now blue and discolored from the ice. Having melted slightly around her face and shoulders, it formed small puddles, allowing Lucy’s hair to float to the top ever so slightly.

  Taking a few breaths, his head facing towards the floor, Daniel sat back on his heels and said, “Yes, it is regrettable.”