by Lisa De Palo
An ouija board was dangerous, Sophie knew that it opened a portal to other realms, and if one failed to close the session without proper precautions and incantations, then the danger could be catastrophic. But, even with all the danger, Sophie knew it was her best hope of finding Layla.
She took it downstairs and placed it on the coffee table. For a long time, Sophie just looked at the old board sitting on the table alone. She could feel the energy coming off it, it wanted to be used. After a while, she got up and began pacing around the room. She moved over to one of the windows and pulled the curtain back slightly with her finger.
Outside was glum and auspicious, the air was still, and it was quiet, a little too quiet. There was no traffic and not a single soul on the street. Something felt off and her gut told her to take a break. She sat down on the living room floor, cross-legged with her back resting against the leg line of the couch and eyeballed the ouija board.
Could Beth help me?
To contact the dead wasn’t so bad. She had done it before but to call Beth back… well, she had been involved with demons. Sophie didn’t know what that meant, she didn’t even know where Beth’s soul was. But, she was running out of options, and this might be the last thing left. Layla’s life was on the line after all.
Sophie exhaled and dreaded what she was about to do. She collected a few things from around the house, scattered some salt, mainly around windows and doorways, and spread a large circle on the floorboards around the coffee table. She found her old eagle feather and smudged the room with a smoldering piece of Palo Santo, wafting it up high up into the corners where negative forms liked to hide. Lastly, she drew the curtains closed and lit a bunch of candles, placing them around the table.
Once she was satisfied that she had protected her house the best way she could, she sat with the board in her sight and closed her eyes attempting to find her inner calm. A positive frame of mind is imperative when being left in such a vulnerable state. So, she tried to imagine white light beaming down around her so that it flowed right through her chakras.
The air in the room suddenly became thick and heavy, an energy rushed through her as though her very own ancestors were trying to warn her. She let her fingers rest lightly on the planchette before she made her affirmation.
With the power of the elements, spirit guides, and higher self, I am protected from all negative spirits, entities, and energies that could influence me…
“Beth Sinclair, are you here with me?… Hello, Beth?”
Moments passed. A great unease came upon her, and she was ready at any moment to point the planchette at goodbye on the upper side of the board.
“Hello is anyone here?”
There was nothing, not even a creak of the floorboards.
“Beth, if you’re there, please, I need your help, Layla is in grave danger.”
Time seemed to have stopped, Sophie could feel every beat of her heart as she waited in the absolute silence. She strained for a sign, and the table started giving off a silent hum of energy. Sophie squinted her eyes, looking around the room for any sign of movement.
“Sister, are you here with me?”
The table began to shimmy, and the humming increased when the planchette suddenly slid to yes with great force.
“Beth, listen to me,” Sophie said quickly. “Your daughter is being hunted… I need to help her, please!”
There was nothing. Sophie could feel the beads of sweat dripping down her cheek. Her breath was caught in her chest and the planchette began dancing in figure of eights, over and over, faster and faster.
Sophie let go, and it kept swirling in eights. She gasped, this was not her sister!
The table began rocking again, vibrating violently and banging loudly on the floor. Sophie remembered the figure of eights. This was a malevolent being, demonic. She had lost control of the board.
“Stop!” Sophie screamed but the table got more violent. “Stop!”
Suddenly she remembered her Gran. Sophie leaned over to the other side of the couch and plunged her hand into her purse and ripped out a silver coin. She slammed it onto the Ouija board and the planchette stopped dead on ‘hello’.
“Leave this place and never return!” She yelled as she slid the planchette to ‘goodbye’.
Everything in the house was silent. The ouiji’s energy had dissipated and all that was left was the racing beat of Sophie’s heart. Something had stopped her from finding Beth. Something dark was hunting her niece.
4
CONDEMNATION
The vein on the side of Marco’s temple began to bulge as it pulsed in frustration.
“Where are you going Layla?” he huffed.
He took hold of her hand before she had the chance to storm out of his room and watched her turn to face him.
“What am I, you’re prisoner now?” she said with tears welling in her eyes.
Marco let go of her, she was right. He let his hand drop as a sudden wave of nausea washed through his stomach. He hadn’t really saved her at all, only imprisoned her to her a life of ruin.
Her pain seemed to reach out and touch him, he edged closer to her and cast his blue eyes deep into hers and saw what lay beneath all her anger. She was terrified, and her eyes barely held back the pain of sorrow.
“I’ve already been through enough, Marco,” she said pulling away. “I don’t need you telling me what to do, I can do whatever the hell I want.”
The nausea got worse, not as if he was going to be sick, but a deep feeling inside his stomach that he was wrong. How many years had he walked this earth? Never had he felt so wretched, he wanted to cry, he wanted to smash up the room. He had hurt the one person he loved through his own selfishness. He had chosen to keep her for himself rather than let her go in peace.
“You have lost a so much, Layla,” he whispered, his eyes downcast. “I understand the pain you carry.”
He reached out to touch her forearm and felt the tension. Was his tenderness too much for her to bare? He wanted to reach into her mind and try to understand her thoughts, but he was afraid. He knew he could do it, he thought it might even help.
Layla’s mind consumed him, he let himself inside and memories of despair and dread swallowed Marco whole. Her stomach was tense, she was holding back tears. She was lost, her body was changing and she didn’t know what to do. Layla’s mind begged to release the pain but it was impossible. The hurt she carried was buried too deep inside, the loss was too great. Marco pulled himself away and his hard jawline gentled a fraction.
“I- I had watched you from afar, cold and shaking,” he stammered. “I tried desperately to hold myself back but you were drifting away about to die. I had to save you.”
“You watched as I was brutally attacked? and you just stood there and watched?”
“Even if I tried- Layla, you know I am no match for a high demon. And there were too many vampires there with fresh human blood in their sights. Believe me, I wanted to kill each and every one of them that laid their hand on you, it tore me apart…”
Slowly, she raised her eyes to his and her lip quivered. Layla’s eyes glazed over in tears of soft pink, and Marco watched her swallow hard against a lump in the back of her throat. She wanted to cry.
She slowly forced his hand down till it slid away from her arm and gave him a deep look of her own suffering. His mouth fell slightly open as if he were about to speak, yet nothing surfaced. Layla shifted her eyes to the floor feeling every emotion of hurt for what it was until she eventually turned her back and headed for the exit.
“Layla- Please, wait.”
His eyes widened, afraid of what he might lose, he felt every inch of pain she had endured and felt he owed it to her to explain his motives. She stopped still with her back facing him.
“I- I was tired of retracing my life, internally rotting and wasting away for all eternity. My words and apologies will never suffice, I know that now. But on my honor, I will dedicate the rest of my existence to you. I have
been eternally cursed, lost in a black void and there will be no way out for me until you let me in. I had to save you, Layla, you cannot understand it…”
Layla turned her head, slightly peering over her left shoulder.
“No, Marco, you saved me with a lie.”
Her head hung as she reached for the doorknob, and Marco felt his world crash down as she left as quietly as she had entered.
5
ADORATION
Jeremiah rode his Harley hard, he pulled the throttle back and felt the roar of the engine growl right through to his core. He wanted it loud, he wanted to hear the wind ripping through his ears, he wanted to drown out the thoughts he simply couldn’t forget.
He was heading toward the sanctuary, a place where all watchers resided. The watchers, the Earth-bound angels, took comfort there, far up in the northern Sagrada Hills. It was quiet and peaceful away from suburbia, it wasn’t just the hum-drum of city life, but to get away from mortals themselves brought a kind of peace.
The silver gates of the sanctuary loomed into view and Jeremiah eased the break. He had needed absolute proof, something that not even Rafael could deny, if he was going to prove the ancient accords had been broken. Layla was his evidence. She was the answer he needed.
He pulled up on the sloshy green hillside and threw his leg over the bike. Two warrior-watchers strolled over to greet him and he eyed the angelic sigils welded onto the gates behind them.
“Greetings, Sariel and Aithen,” he said. “I bring news for Rafael.”
They were dressed like him, black leathers and denim. Hands lazily resting in pockets and their chests puffed out like bouncers. As they lazily came toward him, Sariel pulled his hand out and grabbed Jeremiah’s forearm in an angelic handshake. He did the same with Aithen and their energies joined as one.
“What news?” Aithen asked.
“For Rafael’s ears, my friend,” Jeremiah smiled.
The watchers gave him a nod and turned to the silver gate. It was magnificent, the only way in or out of the sanctuary. With a twist of his wrist in the open air, Sariel opened the gates and they heaved forward with a grating on the heavy hinges.
Jeremiah took a step forward and Sariel’s forearm thumped against his chest.
“Knife,” he said with a cheeky grin. “You know the law, Jere.”
Jeremiah gave him a nod and unclipped the dagger on his belt and handed it over. He didn’t like being unarmed, ever, but if he was going to be defenseless, then the sanctuary was the safest place he could be.
He passed through the towering outer-gates and entered the peace of the inner courtyard. Gnarled maple’s lined an old stone path and he listened to the gentle moans of their naked boughs as they shifted in the breeze. It was a peaceful place, the leaves of the maples had fallen and given the courtyard a crimson carpet that was dusted with fine white snow.
Jeremiah followed the pathway around until the white marble of the Sanctuary itself revealed itself. As he neared, the golden doorway slowly opened and caught the auric rays of the sun.
This place was truly a miracle, and as he stepped into the entrance hall, an abundance of light cascaded down from high windows and bounced off of the alabaster walls. The vaulted ceilings towered overhead and echoes of soft voices moved like the sighing wind. He felt at home, he swore that one day he could join the congregation. It was a feeling he didn’t get too often.
It had been many, many months since he had been back to the sanctuary. He took a moment to close his eyes and breathe in the crisp fresh air. Ancient Enochian words, the angel tongue, were being softly spoken in the nearby corridors.
“Brother Jeremiah,” a womanly voice broke his thoughts. “It has been too long.”
Jeremiah turned on his heels and smiled when he saw who it was.
“Eshreal, how have you been?”
She looked radiant and naturally beautiful with auburn hair that softly curled just past her shoulders. She hadn’t changed in centuries, not for as long as he could remember and that must have been from the beginning.
“I’ve been busy with the family,” she smiled honestly. “You know, trying to keep nether-worlders from crossing over. It’s been crazy over in the southern countries lately, but, I think we have it under control now. But you’re here?… What has happened, Jeremiah?”
Jeremiah tried to smile, but the question had him sigh instead.
“It’s Layla Sinclair,” he said.
She pursed her lips and nodded knowingly.
“We’ve heard stories. Her mother, Bethany, didn’t make it…and Layla, well, the cost of playing with fire, I guess…”
Eshreal turned to walk toward the back of the building. She was shaking her head and Jeremiah’s lips twisted in anger.
“It’s not Layla’s fault,” he said quickly. “She had no choice in the matter, and now she’s missing. She’s in the hands of Ardat.”
Eshreal stopped dead in her tracks and a light iridescent shimmer of blue shone across her eyes.
“Ardat is here?” she asked.
Jeremiah instantly realized what he had done. She knew a high demon had crossed over, it meant something much bigger was coming. He shook his doubts away, he had been left with no choice. The demon had Layla, and something about her meant a great deal to him.
“Where is Rafael?” Jeremiah asked. “He needs to hear this from me.”
Eshreal’s eye twitched as she let out a huff.
“Things are peaceful, Jere,” she said pleadingly. “The last time-”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to see our brothers and sisters hurt either. But, this is big.”
She gave him a small nod and led him through the sanctuaries corridors. Wooden doors poked out to the left and right and she guided him up a flight of marble steps that opened up to an open indoor courtyard with a bubbling fountain.
“Wait here,” she said and disappeared through an archway.
Jeremiah shifted his weight uneasily, but it wasn’t long until Eshreal reappeared. Jeremiah caught a glance of Rafael behind her and bowed low to the archangel.
“This better be good,” Rafael said sharply and motioned his hand up.
Jeremiah straightened back up. He hadn’t seen Rafael in years and the vessel was still looking good. His smooth, caramel face was cleanly shaven, dark hair swept back neatly away from his chocolate brown eyes, and he was impeccably dressed in a tight tailored black suit.
Some thing’s never change… Jeremiah thought.
“Are you still tinkering around with God’s toys?” Rafael smirked.
“Layla Sinclair, Sir,” Jeremiah said matter-of-factly.”
“Ahh yes, of course, the Sinclair’s. We have all heard about the path they chose. I don’t have time for worthless humans, Jeremiah, what is the real reason you have come?”
“No, you don’t understand, Sir. The choice was her mother’s. Yes, it was bold, but Bethany believed she was doing the right thing to save her daughter, that has to count for something?”
Rafael Turned his back on Jeremiah and threw his head up to the sky.
“Our brother, Lucifer, thought he was doing the right thing too and look where that got him. Do not try to undermine my intelligence, brother Jeremiah.”
There was a pause and a silence that hung on the air. Jeremiah met Eshreal’s worried glance and sighed.
“Ardat has broken through,” he said reluctantly.
“What!?” Rafael boomed and span back to meet Jeremiah with eyes set to kill.
“She has taken a vessel and kidnapped Layla, Sir,” Jeremiah said quickly. “It may be time to inform our Father.”
Rafael took a moment to calm himself and smirked at Jeremiah.
“The ancient accords have been broken,” Jeremiah continued. “We may need to prepare for war.”
Rafael straightened his suit.
“The last time I got the big-man to help, he flooded the earth and started again. I think we can fix this one ourselves.”
Jeremiah couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Eshreal,” Rafael said. “Prepare a few scouts. We need to find this Layla Sinclair before the demons do.”
6
IRASCIBLE
As Layla got to the river’s edge, she saw the berthed boats and the twinkling stars shimmering off the still water. She sighed, leaving Marco was hard but she needed space. All she could think about was everything she had lost, those thoughts, the memories of her Mom, Kendra, even herself… they kept repeating in her mind like a broken record.
The snow wasn’t falling, instead, the air was sharp and the sky was black as jet. She gazed up at the night’s stars in wonder and let her head fall back on her shoulders. It felt like the weight of her world was weighing her down.
Water splashed and Layla ducked down. The sound was like a crash to her sharper hearing and she scuttled for the docked boats. Another splash. The hairs on her neck stiffened and she strained to listen for more. If it was the vampires-
“Ho, diddy diddy, and Tom’s a wee fiddy…”
An old folk tune came floating down the river and Layla let out another sigh in relief. She peered out from her hiding and saw single man rowing a little wooden boat.
Thank God…
Layla drooped her head in relief and slowly stood tall. Her voracious thirst for blood came back stronger than ever. It was crippling, like pure starvation, her stomach didn’t growl so much as beg as it stretched itself thin inside her. She began to prowl like a wild-cat. The little row boat was drifting to the river’s center as it slowly approached.
“Help,” Layla cried out. “Please help me!”
She ran to the edge of the water waving her arms as if she were victim to some brutal assault. The man turned and poked his head forward trying to get a clearer view.
“Someone’s trying to kill me!” she howled. “Please, help me!”