by Shyla Colt
Sacha stalks forward, Artemis reborn with her confident strides, intensity, and strength. I trail behind her at a slower slip, observing the area for anything of note. The lack of evidence is sobering.
“What are the locals saying?” Fel asks.
“They’re not saying it’s aliens. But they’re not saying it isn’t.”
Fel laughs. “When in doubt, blame the spacemen who probably have far better things to do than be bothered with us.”
“Come on, cousin. You know humans are the most precious snowflakes in all the universe. We’re the pinnacle in the circle of life,” I say somberly.
“God, I hope not, or we’re screwed.” She draws out the last syllable and rolls her eyes.
The area has been hastily roped off with caution tape, but it’s plainly been explored. Closed in two thousand and twelve after Hurricane Isaac, the state park has been all but abandoned.
“Do we have any clue how long it’s been like this?” Fel asks.
Sacha shrugs. “People come out here so infrequently since it’s been closed to the public, it’s impossible to say.”
“Who called it in?” I ask as we walk toward the opening, and I wonder what’s keeping the rest of the structure from falling in on itself.
“A park worker who patrols here and happens to be a witch.”
“Luckily for us.”
“He said when he first discovered it, the place was swamped with bad juju. His words, not mine.” Sacha raises her hands when we eyeball her.
“Do you feel anything now?” I ask. We pause and tune into our environment. There’s an unsettling sensation that lingers in the air. A disturbance to nature has left a bitter taste in the wind. Chill bumps cover my arm.
“Did the temperature just drop or is it me?” Fel whispers.
“I feel it,” I say.
“Me too,” Sacha adds.
I can feel eyes on me. I slowly turn in a circle, trying to find the source. I rub my arms to ward off the chill. The stench of rotten meat burns the hairs of my nostrils. Fel gags.
“What the hell is that?” Sacha’s voice is muffled by the hand covering her nose and mouth.
“I don’t know.” A shushing noise breaks the cloying silence. I turn my head and freeze as I spot a writhing black mass of slithering bodies making their way across the grass.
“Lou, please tell me this is some mating ritual,” Fel whispers.
“Hell no. Nothing about this is normal,” Sacha hisses as the snakes encircle us. We move to stand back to back. The wind kicks up, rattling the trees in the distance. A crack of thunder has us all jumping. A streak of lightning illuminates the gray clouds, blocking out the sun. Nausea hits me. Gray figures began to rise from the ground. Smoky, humanoid figures, they wait in the distance.
“Lou,” Sacha screams over the roaring winds threatening to blow us over.
“I see them.” I plant my legs and raise my hands in the air. I focus on creating a circle of blazing white light. The figures rush forward. The intense cold they bring burns hot. Pain explodes in my head. Metaphysical claws rip through my mental shield. I scream. Images of Fel and Sacha broken and bleeding fill my mind.
“No.” I choke the words out as I force the foreign entity from my mind. Icy hands wrap around my throat. I’m yanked off my feet and tossed. I land on my back with am umph. With the wind knocked out of me, I’m unable to catch my breath. My vision blurs. I bury my fingers into the soil and pull energy from the ground. I wince as the remnants of the blood-soaked battleground buzz to life, disturbing sleeping ghosts.
This is more than a ghost. We’re under a demonic attack. I roll onto my side and push myself into a sitting position. Weaving back and forth, I focus on my faith and block out the shrill screams of the others. Ancestors, help me.
A surge of strength flows in my veins. I feel the helping hands of ghosts, tired of bloodshed, supporting and lifting me to my feet. I raise shaky hands as the weak barrier I’ve gathered around me holds.
“The light of God surrounds us.” The words come out loud, crisp, and sure. The exact opposite of how I feel. “The love of God enfolds us. The power of God protects us. The presence of God watches over us. Wherever we are, God is. And all is well.” White waves of energy glisten above my head, like a living rainbow. The dome of protection surrounds us. The smoky creatures flicker into nothingness. Sacha sends a bolt of her power out, flinging the snakes back toward the wooded area.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Fel whispers. The girls come over and help me to my feet. Their clothes are ripped, soiled with dirt, and their eyes are dilated with fear, but they seem relatively whole.
“You were right. It’s all connected, and that fucker is more powerful than I imagined,” Sacha says.
“It was after you. Why?” Fel asks
“I’m the one it saw at Hal’s.”
“Well, it’s seen all of us now,” Fel says dazedly.
“More reason to get the hell out of here,” Sacha mutters. I grip my side as we quickly depart. We’re battered, and bruised, but walking away. Next time we might not be so lucky.
“We need to learn how to protect ourselves,” Sacha whispers.
“Then that’s our next stop. I don’t know how long it takes this thing to manifest or regain energy. We hurt it. It’s going to be out for our blood.” I swipe at the trickle running down from my split lip. “Or more of it.”
We climb into the car, and I lean back against the leather, inhaling the earthy scent of sage Sacha continually keeps burning in the ashtray. I close my eyes and check in with a concerned Cristobal. “Ran into a demon. Everyone’s okay. Right now, I need to focus.”
“I’ll be monitoring.” The connection between us is muffled. He’s there in the back of my mind, present, but not distracting. What once terrified me has become a comfort. I’m never truly alone. In a world full of enemies and sticky situations, that’s a good thing.
“What do we know about this thing?” Fel asks.
“Nearly nothing. Other than the sigil there’s been nothing we can link to it. I think the demon is old. The kind of power it’s wielding isn’t something that underlings possess. I don’t know if it’s being controlled, or controlling. “
“Because one is better than the other?” Sacha’s voice drips with dark sarcasm.
“No, but it might change our approach to information gathering,” Fel says.
I watch as she types furiously into her cellphone. Organization is the way she deals.
We continue to toss about theory as Sacha drives to a small parish in the middle of nowhere. We pull up in front of a tiny white church that couldn’t hold more than a hundred people max. I arch an eyebrow. She steps from the car, and I’m shocked by the protection surrounding the building.
“These are powerful wards.”
“Faith can work magic all its own, and the man who cares for this place has a deep belief.” She smirks. “He also knows a thing or ten about magic.” She leads us around the side of the steepled structure and knocks at the door. It opens to reveal a man in his late fifties to early sixties. His skin is tan from working in the sun, and his face is a road map of kindness from its crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes to the laugh lines. His green eyes are warm, and his silver hair is threaded with the lingering memories of faded black strands.
“Ms. Sacha. You’ve come to see me again, and you’ve brought friends I see.”
“Father Axson, this is Louella and Felicite Esçhete.”
“The honor is mine, ladies.” He gives a slight bow.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Father.”
“As much as I enjoy your visits, I get the impression from your clothing this is an urgent matter?”
“Yes, sir,” Sacha says.
“Please, step into my office.” He holds the door open as we step inside a
nd leads us through the well-loved interior with wooden pews and floors shined to a high gloss. The building has aged beautifully. There’s a warmth in here that newer churches often lack. I peer up the aisle at the altar and feel the desire to take a moment to pray and reflect. There’s power here in these walls and the man we’re following. We gather in the tiny office, pushing three chairs close together across from the small oak desk with neat stacks of paperwork, a cross, and a gold nameplate with F.R. Axson written on it.
The walls are full of official documents, and photos of him with his parishioners and fellow priests.
“What can I do for you young ladies?” Father Axson asks.
“We’ve got demonic troubles, Father.”
He straightens. “I need to know everything.” He sits quietly while we fill him.
“Do you have the sigil?” he asks.
“No, but I can draw it,” Sacha says.
He opens a drawer in his desk, rustles through the papers, and hands her a blank sheet of loose leaf. She sketches the sigil. Hope blooms in my chest.
“I don’t know this by heart, but I can search the archives. You’ll be targeted now. You have to be dutiful in your faith.”
“What can we do to protect ourselves, Father?” Sacha questions.
“Keep holy water and holy objects near you at all times. They’ll bolster your faith and weaken the demon. The demonic try to break you down. Be aware of your surroundings and moods. They creep in a little at a time, chipping away at our reserves, isolating us, and ultimately devouring our souls.”
“Do you have any idea why they might be collecting these particular items?” I ask.
Father Axon shakes his head. “It’s impossible to say without knowing who we’re dealing with. Many of these demons have their specialties. Certain things can add to their power. For instance, a lust demon will be drawn to places, items, and people centered on lust. Think of it as fuel and batteries.”
The more we learn, the further we feel from solving this case. My head is crowded, and my soul is heavy.
“Thank you for looking into this, Father,” Sacha says.
“As soon as I find anything, I’ll contact you,” he replies.
I’m on autopilot as he walks us to the front and fills three bottles of holy water. “May God be with you as you fight this evil. People like you give an old man past his prime hope.”
“You’re not that old, Padre,” Sacha says.
“We need new blood. Evil is ageless and rampant.”
“Witch for Hire is here to help, Father. If we can ever return the favor, please let us know,” I say.
“I’ll take you up on that, young lady.”
Chapter Eleven
“Wha?” I push the long bangs away from my face and stab at the brew button on the Keurig. I’ve yet to receive my morning jolt of caffeine, and conversation is out of the question. Luz apparently has yet to get that memo.
“You need to come outside and see this.” The machine rumbles to life, pulling water from the reserves and firing up the heating mechanism.
“Huh?” I grunt, unable to give her more as I watch the brown liquid fill my Queen Bee mug with the golden handle. I scratch the swath of skin bared between my tank top and black, white, and pink sleeping shorts.
“Right now,” she speaks slowly. “There’s a solar eclipse occurring.”
I frown. “Um, no there’s not.” As a witch, I make it my business to know major celestial events.
“What you mean is there shouldn’t be. Yet, if you step outside,” she points toward the foyer, “you’ll see I’m right.”
I rub my puffy eyes and zombie walk in the general direction of the front door. Fumbling with the lock, I step outside and squint up at the pink, purple, and orange sky. The sun is being swallowed little by little. I’m going to need a bigger cup of coffee.
“This is bad, right?” Luz asks from beside me.
I nod my head, unable to make my vocal cords work. My mouth is bone dry. The power necessary to pull this off is unfathomable. It requires altering the balance of nature. “Bad is a major understatement.”
“Do you think it was done intentionally? I mean, how is that even possible? Is it probable?”
“Playing with the laws of nature are bound to have disastrous repercussions. It’s likely whoever caused this did anticipate this side effect. If it was done deliberately …” I rub the back of my neck and trail off as my brain boots up. “Doing this so publicly proves they’re no friend to any of us. Humans will notice and investigate a spontaneous eclipse.”
My mind returns to Sebile and her worry about breaches. The Unseelie queen’s suspicions weren’t unfounded or false. The situation is dire when I’m wishing the Fae were actually playing tricks on me. I grimace thinking of the fall out about to happen. The sun has barely coasted into the horizon, and I’m looking at a crisis situation. We’ll have to reschedule all our appointments. Every witch in driving distance is going to gather today.
“What are you going to do?”
“Finish my coffee. Brew more and start returning the calls I know will be coming in.” I’m going to subscribe to the airplane safety method of reasoning. In case of a loss of cabin pressure, you have to put your own mask on before assisting others. You can’t help anyone else if you’re not okay. I retrace my steps inside the house and grab my mug of warm coffee. I lean against the kitchen counter and let the jolt of caffeine hit my system. The heated drink goes a long way toward kick-starting my brain and chasing away the chill that settled into my gut.
Luz hovers close, a dutiful daughter as she observes me silently. I can sense the unasked questions hovering on the tip of her tongue. I love her for the way she holds back her natural habit of plowing forward full speed. I prep a fresh cup of coffee with cream and sugar. I’m ready to talk.
“I know you have a lot of questions, but at the moment, I can’t really answer them. There are too many variable factors. We’ll all gather and try to narrow those down, so we can form a plan and move forward. The next few hours are going to be incredibly stressful while we try to mobilize, and not kill each other. It’s a lot of egos in a small place under stress.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “It’s a recipe for disaster and a headache.” My phone vibrates on the counter, and I grunt. It hasn’t stopped buzzing. Mémé, Sacha, Fel, and Mom’s numbers have flashed across my screen numerous times.
“Are you going to answer them?”
“After this cup, yeah. I’m going to need all the patience boosters I can handle. How did you know the eclipse wasn’t supposed to happen?”
“I pay attention to things, too. Our senses are strong. There was a faux quality. It smells, looks, and on a visceral level feels wrong. We’re not as connected to nature, but we have our own brand of magic. A sense that aligns us with things on this planet. There’s a reason we’ve always been connected with the evening hours. The connection is tied to endings. We exist after we should the same way the moon ends the day.”
I can understand the bond. Vampires are beings of darkness. They have to feed on life to remain alive. It makes sense.
“Is this similar to the way witches tap into nature?”
“Exactly so.”
I store the fact away for later. My phone buzzes again. Fel. I answer.
“Have you looked outside?” she asks.
“Morning to you, too, sunshine. I have. We should clear the schedule for the week at W.F.H.”
“I thought the same thing. Charlotte, your favorite client, is going to be pissed.”
I snicker. “Bully for her.”
“I’m scared, Lou. This eclipse isn’t happening anywhere else. It’s specific to Cypress and the surrounding areas.”
“There goes any hope of this being a weird global anomaly. This is impossible.” The sun governs us all; anything happening to it should be un
iversal.
“I know. They’re calling a council lead meeting with the heads of families and all the witches who can make it in.”
“When and where?”
“That’s still being haggled over. They’re scrambling at this point, and the fear is making them snippy.”
“I can’t blame them. This is either a bold statement or a sign of something very wrong with our neck of the woods.”
“I don’t know how we can do damage control on such a vast audience,” Fel says.
“It would take one hell of a spell.”
“Manipulating that many minds is skating on the edge of ethical.”
“The rules are always flexible when it comes to what’s best for the greater good. It would take all of us working together to pull it off. That in itself might require a miracle.”
A loud boom makes me jump. “What the hell is that?” I rush toward the front door. The wards are firmly in place. It can’t be an attack. A line of vampires dart out the door in front of me.
Sizzling like bacon dancing in a skillet fills my ears. My jaw drops as flaming bits of circular objects hurtle from the sky. The fiery rain ranges in size from large to medium. The ground shakes with impact.
I grab for the doorframe to stay on my feet. Marcellus and Luz are in front of and behind me instantly, holding onto my arms to keep me steady as the ground continues to vibrate.
“What the hell are those?”
“Meteorites.” Percival and Miles voices are synched.
“What the hell is going on with this town?” Luz asks.
“Nothing good,” I answer honestly. We’ve just experienced darkness followed by fiery rain. It could be read as a mimicry of biblical plagues.
“So, who pissed off God?” Ruby whispers.
“Apparently the town of Cypress as a whole.” Ada snarky tone adds to the tension.
The ground settles as the shower ends and the sun is returned to rule on its throne.