Cantrips: Volume #2: Minor Magics Crafted to Amuse and Entertain

by Joey W. Hill

  She couldn't tolerate being held to the ground in such a suffocating way. Summoning all her vampire strength, depleted though it was, she struggled to her feet, stumbled forward and landed against the rock cairn. As she clung to it, waves of feeling crashed against her and through her. She was screaming in agony, pleading for mercy, for forgiveness for them all as well as herself, but she ran out of strength to think or speak. She held onto the rocks as if she'd be utterly lost if she let go against the never ending barrage.

  This was for Agnes. For Agnes, she would endure anything. She seized onto that thought, held it in tight fists with the sharp rocks. Her palms were bleeding, as well as her nose. Her legs were no longer holding her. She was also no longer alone.

  The wave started to recede, as if pushed back by the new arrival. Lifting her head, she saw Him. Her breath caught in her throat and a denial cowered in her soul, while the rest of her was swept with a bowel-loosening, mouth-parching terror. Even through a blur of tears, she saw his wings were made of fire, stretched out and billowing with orange, yellow and blue flames. He had the head of a stag with a wide rack of antler horns, his head and body more than large enough to support them. He towered over her, at least eight feet tall, naked and terrifyingly endowed, with a cock that seemed as thick and long as her arm jutting up in full erection. He was on the inside of her circle, and his face didn't promise Death, but everlasting torment. He was Hell, the Devil, the punishment for all sins, large and small.

  "Sickness must be driven out," he said, his voice thunder. A snake unfurled from his side, with forked tongue and flashing fangs. Then she realized it wasn't a snake, but a whip. A whip encased in flame, with several silver barbed tips. "Are you worthy of being its vanquisher?"

  "No." She was shocked she could speak. But she gripped Agnes's memory like a shield. She didn't have the courage to stand before him, but she would not run. No matter that her cowardly soul was shrieking the exact opposite, wanting her to flee like a woodland animal. "But I am the only one who can offer myself to try."

  "You lie." His thunderous snarl bludgeoned her bones, made her whimper and duck her head. "You are proud, vampiress. You think you are worthy. You think your hatred and your rage can destroy any enemy."

  She dug her fingers into the rock. Goddamn you, I am a vampire. She shoved away from the rock, making herself stand on knees threatening to buckle. She couldn't meet his fiery eyes--that was beyond the ability of any living soul--but she stared up into the flames of his billowing wings. Sparks were showering from them. "If that was true, I wouldn't be here. You are my only hope for Agnes."

  She would give anything she had to make this happen. But she wouldn't try to pretend to be something she wasn't. He already knew the answer to His own damn question. If she was worthy of vanquishing sickness, she would have done it by now, right? And she wouldn't need Him, or this.

  "You will look at me."

  She gritted her teeth, raised her lashes and met those hellish eyes. Crimson flame created a well so deep no one would ever find her. She would never have existed to anyone but her own shriveled soul. All her bravado and anger fled in the face of terror. He moved forward, and the ground shook under his tread. He didn't have feet, but cloven hooves as large as a draft horse's. "You will accept the price."

  No. No one could accept that. A place of non-existence where one was fully aware of one's isolation, beyond the help or reach of another living soul...

  Agnes. Agnes healthy and well. Able to marry again, have children, be alive...

  "Yes." The answer tore itself from her, despite the iron grasp of petrified heart and soul trying to keep her from saying the one word. And just like that, it was done. No going back. But He took even that relief from her.

  "If at any point you ask me to stop, then the price is not paid."

  "Don't stop, even if I ask you to do so." Her body was shaking as if from plague. She was forced to reach out and grasp the rocks for stability.

  "It does not work that way. Your will must prove itself worthy, not mine."

  Was it the word worthy that did it? Or weeks of exhaustion and desolation? Nothing should have been able to overcome her soul's fear of what lay before her, but suddenly her head snapped up on her spine and she met that deathly gaze fully. Her heart filled with a rage so hot, it could have come from the forges of Hades itself. The priests said creatures like vampires came from Hell. Right now she agreed with them.

  "Fuck all of you." Grace straightened and let go of the rock, though she swayed alarmingly. "They're dying, they're suffering, and you want to play your stupid games. Is this what they get after they die? An eternity with the likes of you? Better for them to be dust, no soul, and this life be it, than have someone who doesn't value their lives or who they are. I hate you. You hear me? I hate you!"

  She scooped up a rock from the cairn, receiving a brief impression of a summer hearth and a child's laughter from the memory embedded in it. She hurled it at him. "Why do you do this to them? Why?" The projectile passed through him and disappeared, which just infuriated her more. His whole body turned to flame except the stag's head, the fire roasting her flesh. She picked up another rock. A first kiss, a field filled with wheat... Then another. A mother's passing, a well wish for her afterlife journey from her daughter...

  She kept throwing them at the Lord, memories and wishes, hopes and dreams, all disappearing into the fire and tumbling out the other side, useless, forgotten. When she ran out of energy, she collapsed, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. "I hate you." She whispered it, even as a different echo assaulted her inside. I hate myself, for not being more. Better. Enough to save them.

  She wasn't sure how long it was before she stopped crying and realized everything else had become quiet. She lifted her head. The clearing was silent and cold once more, the forest even more still. She'd failed. She'd done what Agnes had told her, opening her bleeding heart, but Agnes hadn't realized her heart was as poisoned as the sickness gripping her and the village.

  Try again. Try. She shook her head, then realized it was Agnes speaking to her. In her rage, she'd opened her mind fully, and her second marked servant had heard her.

  "I can't. I failed. He left."

  No. He hasn't. They merely wait. Let me help you. Let me walk you through it. Sshhh...

  Grace realized her breath was sobbing in her throat in a weird, semi-hysterical way. She tried to slow it down and ground herself, but Agnes's presence in her mind perversely made it harder for her to quell the reaction. I am here, Gracie. If I was at your side, I'd stroke your hair and hold you, give you comfort. Even vampires need that. It's the one thing you can't do for yourself. You have fought so hard for us, asked for so little. You need someone to love you. It's why you've stayed with us as long as you have.

  Grace closed her eyes. Time is relative to a vampire. Forty-two years is merely a day. I was thinking of going to Italy for the next fifty. It's sunnier there.

  Of course. Vampires love sunlight.

  Impertinent girl. It's for my human servant, so she can recuperate in bright sunshine.

  You need to call quarters. You haven't even done that yet. Lazy vampire.

  Grace couldn't believe that her mouth tried to stretch into a smile. She was feeling steadier, by some miracle. A miracle named Agnes.

  Rude moppet. I was busy dealing with the indigestion that cursed walnut gave me.

  Well, that last blood meal you gave me was crap. Fair's fair.

  Grace choked on a chuckle. Oh, Agnes. What am I going to do with you?

  Agnes's voice mind voice weakened, as if she was running out of enough energy to simply think words at Grace, but her response was spirited. Get this done and then I'm sure you'll think of things.

  Right, then. Calling quarters. Pushing herself to her feet once more, Grace oriented herself to the circle's compass. She shuffled along the edge of the wheel to the eastern point.

  Spirits of the east, denizens of the winds and
the air we breathe, that carry the scents of home and hearth to us...The scent of Agnes's hair, cleaned with her special soap, the wildflowers she put on her table... Be with us tonight. Lend us your guidance and aid. So mote it be.

  Agnes's quiet presence in her mind helped her find the words, the feelings. On to the southern point.

  Spirits of the south, denizens of fire, children of the sun that grows our food and brings us warmth... The warmth of Agnes's body, hugging her, holding her, pressed up against Grace in the near future so that she could ignite the fires of passion between them... Bless the witch's craft where the joining of bodies is a sacred addition to its rituals, not a sin...be with us tonight. Lend us your guidance and aid. So mote it be.

  To the west. Where the sun set, a day ending so it could begin again, a task finished, one life gone so another could be reborn. She would not dwell on that. The west was the water. The ocean, streams, rivers and lakes. Icicles that glittered on the trees. Agnes in the creek, her skirt tucked in her belt as she cleaned laundry and pulled fish out of the traps. Lifting pretty creek stones to show Grace, the water dripping down her arm and wetting the front of her bodice. Spirits of the West, be with us tonight. Lend us your guidance and aid. So mote it be.

  Finally, she stood in the North. The symbol of the earth. She curled her toes into the frozen ground, but even through the cold she could feel it pulsing with life. Agnes was chanting in her head, an ancient ditty about the Earth being the Mother, the source of all. To Her we shall return... Grace dropped her head back on her shoulders, breathing deep, letting the chant roll over her. She began to repeat it with Agnes, stronger, louder. The dizziness that gripped her wasn't dizziness. She was swaying, moving in a clockwise rotation.

  Be with us tonight, spirits of east, south, west and north. Lend us your guidance and aid. So mote it be.

  She stepped into the center, and stood before the rocks again. She was aware of the cloak of air on her bare skin, the heat vibrating through her as she lifted her arms to the sky and grounded her feet in the earth. "Lord and Lady, on this precious Yule night, the birth of hope and renewal, we come to you with heart and soul open. We celebrate your love and creation and submit ourselves to your Will in all things, so mote it be."

  Was it Agnes speaking the words and her repeating them? They seemed to be saying them at once. Agnes's voice quieted and once again, Grace realized she wasn't alone in the circle. She couldn't quell the spurt of fear that facing that fiery beast once again brought to her, but when she moved her gaze to the southern end of the circle, she found He had changed. And what she saw inspired an entirely different reaction, emotional and physical.

  His wings were no longer made of fire. His feathers were dark as a crow's, the wings drawn in so they flanked his body like a cloak. He was still tall, but not as much as before. Now he was only about a foot taller than Grace. Long black hair, a blue-black contrast against the wings, spilled over his bare broad shoulders. He wore only a short black kilt that stopped at mid-thigh. The sword on which he leaned was stamped with ancient-looking markings, matched by what was tattooed on his shoulders, muscled arms and wrists.

  She brought her gaze to his eyes and was captured there. Dark as night, with crimson fire flickering in them. No whites, only fathomless pools. His lips were slim, firm and sensual, like the planes of his face, etched with the finest sculptor's blade. She'd never seen a male so unspeakably beautiful, virile or overwhelming.

  Staring at him, she had an unsettling sense of herself as Woman, a sexual being. Every inch of her skin, every part of her, was made to lock with Man's, to create magic and life. Flipping from the terror and rage of moments ago to this sudden, soul-deep arousal was startling. While focusing on calling the quarters had helped center her and change her focus, she had no doubts her primal reaction was entirely due to the Being she was facing now.

  Agnes's voice was silent. Either she was as captivated as Grace or her limited energy had depleted once more, taking her back into oblivion. The second mark connection told Grace she was alive, though the thread was far too weak to be reassuring. So it was just Grace and...this, in the clearing.

  "Where..." She cleared her throat. "My Lord, where did the other go?"

  "That was one of my faces. Your rage called it. Your tears banished it."

  His voice still held the rushing roar of flames, and the heat of it bathed her. Grace knelt, her bare knees pressed into the snow and ice. It was melting beneath her, heat filling the ritual circle. She'd felt the Lord at past Great Rites. He was usually called into a chosen male to mate with whoever in the circle was nominated to draw the Goddess down into her. But that had been a mere echo with her standing on the periphery, only observing. She was in His presence and, though she should know what to do, words failed her. So she knelt, her head down, and wished Agnes was awake. What do I do?

  "You do nothing. You surrender what you are to this ritual. Why do you come alone, vampire? You are no witch."

  That voice surrounded her, making her tremble. All her defiance about not groveling, about not begging, was slipping away in the face of this, something she couldn't understand, something that brought all her pain, hopes and fears to the surface, nearly choking her. But in that pain, she found her will and the words. She dug her fingers into the ground. Even beneath the weight of his power, she was still what she was. He'd reminded her himself. Not a witch. A vampire.

  "I am all that is able to observe the Yule celebration, my Lord. I do not know how to proceed. Forgive my ignorance." Lifting her head, she met his gaze. Those dark eyes still held the fires of Hell, promising that fate if the wrong step was taken. Maybe even if the right one occurred. Her fear angered her, and she shoved it away, repeating what she'd said to the far more terrifying incarnation of this Being. "Anything. I will give anything to bring them Light and hope again, to save those who remain from death."

  "A creature of the dark, offering a sacrifice to bring light." He drove his blade into the ground and left it quivering there. As he moved across the circle toward her, the snow and ice disappeared before his bare feet, revealing earth and brown winter-dormant vegetation. He moved with the grace and power of jagged lightning ripping through the firmament, and she felt the sparks of it ripple beneath her.

  "You need blood, vampire. Your deprivation sharpens your senses, prepares you for this ritual the way a human fast does, but you are not like humans. How long since you have let yourself know pleasure? Your carnal appetites are as strong as your need for blood."

  That truth and need, something she'd beaten into submission until it was just embers in the base of her spine, flared to life in the face of this Male, with his long, fine limbs, silken hair and dark, knowledgeable eyes. She could taste his flesh beneath her lips and tongue, feel his sex thrusting into her, filling what had been empty for an interminable amount of time--for a vampire. She swayed on her knees.

  "Three years." Before then, she'd leave the village for the night once every few weeks. Once she found an easily compelled male or female to feed her, she'd enjoy their body fully before leaving them with their minds wiped and their bodies satiated. Her last had been a woodcutter with brawny hands and energetic cock. She remembered the hard press of his lips against her throat. He'd rolled over on top of her, taking the lead, his fingers curling around her wrists. In the light in his eyes, the set of his mouth, she’d seen the need to conquer was part of his pleasure. It was an innate desire a vampire knew well. She'd allowed it, because she held all the power and he would remember nothing when she was gone. But he'd been particularly generous and he'd lingered in her mind, occasionally recalled when her body ached too much for what she'd denied it since then.

  Agnes knew where Grace went on those occasional forays. Always before, she'd said or felt nothing that Grace could detect. But that time, her sadness surfaced, and Grace realized just how much it hurt Agnes every time she did it, adding to a well of melancholy buried deeply inside the woman. She'd merely been able to mask it up
until then. Her inability to hide it any longer had told Grace the tug of war between her feelings for Grace and Dan was taking its toll on Agnes.

  Grace knew Agnes would never say a thing about it; she’d even say aloud, if asked, that she had no claim on Grace. Yet ever since, Grace hadn't been able to leave the village for that purpose. She'd made do with self-pleasuring in the early morning hours, imagining doing things with Agnes the witch had probably never imagined. Thinking of introducing her to all those decadent delights only made Grace's climaxes fiercer. Even more fierce than what she'd experienced in direct contact with the woodcutter. If ever Agnes was hers, the first thing she'd do would be to tie up that luscious body and feast upon it for several days, taking blood, tasting flesh with mouth and tongue, delving into her warm cunt and bringing her precious servant release in every imaginable way.

  "Yes. You want her, so you have denied yourself. It is that way with one who matters. Yet it is a long time to deny yourself."

  He was in her mind as if he stood at her side, looking at all those truths with her. As she lifted her head, she saw he'd drawn closer. His hand dropped and Grace drew in a breath as what felt like a heated knife blade slid up the curve of her bare back. But it wasn't pain that unfurled inside her. She gasped at the flood of arousal between her legs, taking her so close to climax she reacted without thought, dropping lower to the ground, curling herself over her knees to contain it. Instinctively, she knew releasing without the Lord's permission would be a mistake.

  "Forehead to the ground, vampire. Show the Goddess your obedience, that trait so elusive to your arrogant kind. She comes into a vessel prepared for her, not a fortress locked up to repel invasion. Do you wish to become a vessel?"

  "Yes."

  "No, you do not. You wish to save your friends."

  "I can't be what I don't know how to be." She squeezed her eyes shut as he touched her back again, sending a hard shudder of arousal through her. "I will become anything for them."