“And you’re sure this will help me save Lydia?” Micah inquired nervously from the center of the array. Lady Crow nodded reassuringly.
“Don’t stop now, you’re so close!” Lady Crow insisted.
What is she so eager about?
Micah’s blood hung on the edge of his palm for what seemed like forever, until it finally it dripped onto the circle. The very instant that tiny crimson droplet landed the array lit up brighter than the sun with an erupting flash, Umbra covered his eyes. He felt the massive surge of power knock the breath out of him with a fierce gale.
Once the light dulled and he looked again there was a massive, scaled grey demon standing cross-armed in the circle. Micah had hung onto the wet ground just barely clinging on inside the circle, the howling winds ceased to relent.
Umbra froze, recalling his own encounter with the contract demon, Belphagor. The world around him lulled as his own mortality came to mind; he struggled to catch his breath. His deal would come to term soon, and he didn’t have much time left, less than a year in fact.
“What do you want?” boomed the demon over the loud howling of the residual winds, its eyes lit up as it looked down at Micah. Lady Crow stood contently at a safe distance with a peculiar smile across her face, she had been totally unaffected by the volatile reaction of the ritual. She stood unrelenting against the fierce winds, her purple shawl and grey hair fluttered furiously behind her.
“Make me a soul-bound weapon to grant me power to channel my magic and smite evil!” Micah declared at the pitch of a yell to be heard over the gale. As he held up the blood-stained bone; the demon sneered, raising its eyebrows with curiosity.
“Evil, you say?” the beast roared and flexed as the bone in Micah’s hand glowed white hot. “Ouch!” Micah cried as his flesh seared and he dropped the bone. As it landed, a curious small stream of white energy seeped through Micah’s mouth and swirled around the bone at his feet. When the bone cooled, it had changed completely. A Black-silvery obsidian blade lay at the young sorcerer’s feet, still pulsing with pure energy. Runes were flashing an eerie blue, stretched across the length of the blade.
The horrific memories of the Night of Flames and his foolish deal with the contract demon returned to Umbra in a flash as he was reminded of Belphagor’s sinister, dead eyes. That evil grin, those ruthless intentions, he can’t watch his friend repeat his mistakes!
Umbra finally snapped back to reality, realizing what Micah had just done. “Nooooo!” he yelled as he dashed into the fray, the winds still whipping past him, almost in an attempt to slow his movements, but it was too late—the deal had been made. “That’s his… soul in that sword!” Umbra stuttered, freezing on the spot.
The howling gale was gone as quickly as it had appeared; only the echoing evil laughter and dispersing smoke were left of the demon as it vanished.
Micah picked the sword up in awe. “It’s so light,” he scanned it curiously. The world around him seemed to be holding its breath nervously as he held it out.
Umbra could hear a muffled whisper echoing all around the training grounds, the kind of feeling that made the hair on your neck stand up.
“Now this soul weapon… Does that mean it has my soul or does that mean something else?” Micah inquired. Lady Crow nodded, casting a mischievous grin at Umbra.
“A small piece of your soul, to bond you with the blade,” She clarified. “Be sure to keep it safe. Its power is yours alone, but whoever wields it wields your soul too.” Lady Crow explained in that deep voice again. “Now people will try and take it, friends, enemies alike. You must be prepared to defend it with your life, my apprentice.”
Umbra couldn’t take it anymore and erupted. “Micah what have you done? You fool! Do you realize what you have made?” Umbra was furious. “That is your soul there, when you die what do you think will happen? Do you really want to exist as an inanimate object?” Umbra picked him up by his collar with his good arm. “Those demons always are deceptive in their deals! You know why I’m here; I thought you would know better!”
Micah’s eyes widened. He glanced over Umbra’s shoulder to look at Lady Crow. “You didn’t tell me that! What do I do now?” Micah stammered at Lady Crow, who stood a few feet away with her arms crossed, glaring at Umbra.
“Quiet boy, you don’t know what you are talking about!” Lady Crow snapped at Umbra, who dropped Micah to his feet and stormed towards Lady Crow. “His soul will return to his body when the sword is broken upon his death,” Lady Crow lied. Umbra knew she was; he had seen the expression before.
Micah sighed in relief. Umbra still skeptically eyed Lady Crow, Micah’s complexion looked paler, his eyes duller. Umbra knew what had happened.
“You can make a weapon too, boy,” she chimed up, to distract Umbra’s attention. She looked down at his bloodied arm. “So you bumped into Robyn, did you?” she inquired. “Well that’s not the kind of training I would have recommended but you seemed to have survived,” Lady Crow clearly lacked any concern.
“I almost died!” yelled Umbra. Lady Crow smiled at him, only enraging him further. “How about I cut you to pieces and see how you like it.”
“Umbra, just let it go, she didn’t have anything to do with it,” Micah piped up, gently placing his hand on Umbra’s shoulder.
Umbra looked at Micah, smacked his hand away and stomped off towards the shack.
Micah let out a deep sigh. “I knew you wouldn’t condemn my soul. Sorry I got worked up, teacher,” he glanced down at the sword. It was impressive and hummed with a ghostly aura, but Micah couldn’t shake the cold chill he felt from it.
Lady Crow walked over to Micah and put her hands on his shoulders. “He is jealous of your power; you are far stronger than him with that sword.”
“Not even a slayer can match your power with that. I may let him go and focus my attention on you, Micah,” she whispered in his ear.
Micah thought it was strange, she had never used his name and her voice was raspy.
Something is different with her.
He shook it off with a cold shiver. He was more concerned about Umbra. He had never lashed out at him like that before.
“Maybe I should go see if he’s okay…” Micah began.
“I hate to say it, but this sword will isolate you from him. Soul weapons have an allure about them,” Lady Crow continued.
“An allure?”
“Yes, they inspire jealousy in the weak-willed. Umbra is weak-willed. Skilled, yes, but his will is weak,” Lady Crow continued. Micah was fixated on the blade and barely registered what she had said.
The eerie, blue swirls permeating around the impressive black blade were astounding. It was moments before Micah realized he was staring unblinking, at it.
Perhaps he does want to steal my sword. Micah couldn’t help but wonder. He watched Umbra stomp off through the marshy ground back to the house with a look of suspicion.
A sinister smile painted Lady Crow’s aged face.
SEVEN
An uneasy tension was looming that night. Umbra was once again plagued by restlessness, his injured arm bound tightly in cloth.
Micah, just as Lady Crow had planned, had become obsessed with keeping his sword safe, his paranoia had grown since the ritual. He insisted he sleep with it sheaved, his arms wrapped around it.
Umbra couldn’t shake a feeling that sinister forces at work, Micah and he were caught up in the middle of something big.
That sword gave Umbra a cold feeling of dread he couldn’t deny.
So there he lay in darkness in that dusty old house contemplating his next move, watching the iron chandelier sway in the breeze.
Micah was sound asleep and hugging his sword in its sheath like a pillow.
This weapon is making him crazy. Lady Crow must be lying! He hasn’t been acting normal ever since
he got it!
Whatever was going on here he was determined to figure it all out.
He reached under the couch to extract the Grimoire Demonus and carefully picked up his bag of ingredients. There was no sound tonight down the hall, it was silent as a tomb.
He skulked past Micah, who was mumbling something or other, it was unintelligible however since his face was buried in a couch cushion. Umbra grabbed his lantern and tiptoed down the hallway careful not to step on any squeaking floorboards.
He had memorized which ones they were; this was not the first time he crept around the house. It was usually to pilfer food though, this time his reasons were more important.
Pictures hung on the hallway walls; they seemed to contrast the gloomy theme of the house. They depicted a smiling woman and family all embracing. Their clothes were curiously old-fashioned.
Umbra finally reached Lady Crow’s bedroom door. The snoring emitted from the room was far deeper and drawn-out than normal. Umbra’s suspicion grew as he carefully turned the handle and opened the door. This ritual would provide him the answers he sought.
As he carefully opened the door and set up his ingredients, his hair stood up on the back of his neck. A cold feeling flowed through his bones; getting stronger the closer he stood to Lady Crow.
Opening the grimoire to the page he needed he reread it carefully. He quietly scattered salt in a ring around her bed and opened the blood vial he had in his pocket. With a small paintbrush he sketched the complex array on the floor, sure to follow the grimoire’s instructions. He looked down in satisfaction at the complicated array he had sketched.
Finally he grabbed a copper goblet and sprinkled dried herbs, salt, and importantly the dragon’s bane into it. The last thing he needed was a drop of human blood from the host.
This will be difficult, how do I get some of her blood without waking her?
With a small sewing needle, he cautiously pricked Lady Crow’s fingertip. Her face scrunched up but she remained asleep. Once he had enough blood Umbra swirled it around to mix it. He scanned the grimoire and recited the passage, the contents of the goblet began to sizzle and boil. The vapors smelled strongly of blood, it turned his stomach. Luckily he only had to inhale the vapors and didn’t need to drink the disgusting concoction.
He swirled the goblet around under his nose and took a deep breath. When he exhaled he was floating above his body, feeling as light as air. His body below was frozen in an exhaling expression. He felt light as a feather, now he had to climb into Lady Crow’s head.
It was a bizarre feeling to need to ‘swim’ to someone and settle into their body, but he managed it. All of a sudden, he was hit with a flurry of images!
There was a young woman, Lady Crow. Only then she was known as Bella, she had a loving husband and two small children, a son and daughter. They lived in a small hamlet like the one Umbra had grown up in. Their modest little house stood on the top of a windswept hill surrounded by cornfields.
Bella had gone out on her own into town for groceries. She skipped care-free, a serene smile on her beautiful face as she strolled down the cobbled street. She warmly greeted the people as she went. Her modest sky-blue dress swayed gently in the wind imitating her thick, golden-blonde curls.
Modest little brick houses lined the street. Colorful stalls dotted the market place, though few were shopping today. She had picked up a few fruits, some potatoes, carrying them in a small hand-basket.
She reached one stall, but there was no food on display. Only a cloaked old man sat there, a crystal ball in front of him. It was something about him that drew her in. His eyes were grey as slate and seemed to stand out over his other features.
“Sit my dear, I shall read your fortune,” he offered with a friendly smile on his face. Bella, curious of fortune-tellers and psychics sat down without hesitation.
The man reached out and clasped her hands, closing his eyes. The crystal ball hummed and began to shine. Everything around them seemed to freeze and dull, people were moving at a snail’s pace now and everything was gloomy and grey.
All of a sudden in a sharp gesture the man’s grip tightened and his eyes flicked open.
No pupils! Just like Lady Crow the night before!
Umbra continued following the images. “Yes, a fine model. You will please my master, Apathy,” the man hissed with an evil grin. A strange insignia similar to a crescent moon lit up his forehead.
He leant back his head and opened his mouth, throwing his hands towards her and gripping her neck. Frozen in fear, she couldn’t defend against him as moved his open mouth closer to hers. Thin, black strings of thread-like essence extended, flowing from his mouth and flew up Bella’s nostrils after encircling her like spider’s silk.
The man collapsed and the surrounding world returned to its vivid color. Bella stood straight up, dropping her groceries. Her eyelids flickered as she walked back towards her house.
The man lay face-down on the table, the crystal ball still humming. Bella continued walking back to her house.
Umbra looked on in confusion. What just happened?
Bella stepped into her house through the open door, her face sporting a blank expression; like she was asleep.
The two children ran down the stairs excitedly to greet her. “Mommy!” they beamed with wide smiles, they had her blonde hair. They hugged her and looked up with their innocent blue eyes. A gaze of concern darkened their faces. “Mommy, are you okay, you look sad,” chimed the little girl.
With one swift motion Bella twisted the girl’s neck until a snap was heard. She dropped lifelessly to the floor, blood ran out her ears. The little boy looked in horror and screamed at the top of his lungs, his sister lay limply on the floor.
The next instant Bella’s hands were on his throat, her expression still as dead as ever.
“Mommy!” the boy gasped as he struggled to inhale. Within a few seconds his bright blue eyes were solid and grey.
Bella flung his lifeless body clear across the room with unnatural strength. He hit the wall with a thud and tumbled onto the floor, lying awkwardly against the wall.
The curtains flapped in the wind as silence fell upon the house. The husband, who had heard the ruckus from upstairs ran down to investigate, he froze in horror at the sight of his children lifeless on the wooden floor.
Staring back at him was Bella, still frozen in that blank, emotionless expression.
“What just…?” he began.
Before he could finish that sentence Bella was right in front of him. She drew a knife concealed in her blouse and thrust it into his right eye in a swift, merciless motion.
The blood spewed like a fountain showering Bella, she didn’t even flinch at this grotesque sight. She was covered now in blood as her husband collapsed onto his knees landing facedown on the floor to reveal the tip of the knife sticking out the back of his head.
The look of vacancy disappeared as Bella seemed to wake up. She let out a bloodcurdling scream.
EIGHT
The next images came in overwhelmingly fast flashes.
Her neighbors had rushed over to investigate and within a few minutes were standing in the threshold of the door their faces stricken with horror as they loomed over Bella.
“She’s a murderer!” they yelled, pointing at her. Bella was frozen in shock.
Before long, the sun had set and the crowd had grown in size.
Their anger had peaked as the angry mob stormed the house yelling Murderer! Monster!
Bella barely managed to slip past a few of them when they dove at her, tearing a sleeve off her dress. She evaded the crowd, running down the path away from the house. Her eyes were awash with tears as they pursued her. Her spattered bloodied clothes clung damply to her as she ran.
Once again her eyes flashed a solid white and her speed incr
eased, before long the mob was in the distance as she ran clear out of town with abnormal speed.
Tears still streamed down her face as she crossed the palisade town wall and continued running down the dirt road into the forest. She blacked out after a few minutes of solid running.
Umbra knew exactly what he had seen. A demon! She was possessed!
Umbra continued to watch the miserable sight of Bella as she crawled on her hands and knees in the mud; she was truly a pitiful sight to behold.
The only thing valuable on her was a small mud-caked purse hanging over her shoulder yielding a few pictures of the family that were now laying lifeless in her house.
With a muck-covered hand she opened her purse to extract a picture. The tears streaming down her face were relentless as she cried out hysterically.
It was dusk now and clouds formed overhead, a chilling wind shook her to the core. In the distance she saw a small house, it was derelict and the windows were boarded up, but she needed to get out of the rain.
The heavens opened up and rain lashed down on her. Her formerly pristine blonde curls sagged and dangled. Spattered blood lined her cheeks, the trees around shook and shivered in the rain as she climbed to her feet. She walked towards the house which would from henceforth be her refuge.
As she walked, the forest around her began to wither and darken. Every step she took the ground grew softer and damper. The trees twisted violently as they shed their leaves.
Once she reached the house her eyes once again flashed solid white and a smile crept across her face.
Umbra snapped back to reality and was once again standing in Lady Crow’s bedroom.
His skin was pale and the goblet lay on the floor spilling out its contents. Umbra had never encountered a demonic possession before but he knew exactly what he had seen, learned from his studies in Brie.
He dropped the grimoire and bolted out of the room, running down the hallway he stumbled over a table smashing a vase. A light shone in Lady Crow’s room as she got out of bed.
The Contracted Soul Page 4