Autumn's Calling (Book 2): The Battle

by Michelle Weese

  “But how did you get out?”

  “Others like me have ventured to escape since the beginning, but only a few slipped through the impossible cracks. I observed from a distance as many betrayed our Master and failed to break free. Only to succumb to an eternity of torture with the fallen souls in the lake of fire.”

  My eyebrows raised at the mention of the lake. Could it be the one I witnessed a short time ago? I refused to ask him, afraid sharing too much with him would only grant him further control over me. I would keep my questions undetectable of any knowledge of the world he came from. So I rested quietly as he continued filling my ears with information I might use against him later.

  “After watching for what seemed like an eternity, I found the break I needed. An unguarded portal to this world that none of the others had noticed. I planned it perfectly and slid through unseen. I am sure by now the Master has discovered my absence. But he has made no effort at capturing me and escorting me back to the darkness below. I suspect he is pleased with what I have achieved here,” he boasted with an arrogant smile sweeping across his face.

  I remained on the side of the bed in silence. My thoughts ran askew after what he revealed. This kind of supernatural mumbo jumbo doesn’t belong in the real world. I knew evil lurked out there somewhere in the shadows, but never imagined coming face to face with it. Yet here I was, carrying on a rather “ordinary” conversation with a demon as if we were chatting over a cup of tea. And he acted so casual about it all. I wasn’t sure what sort of explanation I expected from my questioning, but I'm sure it wasn’t that. Uncertain of how to respond to his story, I avoided eye contact and stayed quiet. The only matter left to figure out was a plan to get out of the awful situation I’d landed myself into.

  Fatigue settled into my bones and I decided to lay back down on the bed. As I adjusted myself under the covers, something scraped along my side. In a flash I remembered the book I tucked under my bra strap in the bathroom. How did I not notice it was still there? And how had Alastor carried me through this old mansion and tend to my injury without seeing or feeling it? I didn’t have an answer for either question but was grateful it went undetected. If I could get Alastor to leave my side, I would study the contents of this mystical book.

  Alastor finished speaking and approached the bed. My heart thumped against my ribcage as fear struck me instantly. Just the proximity of him made me shudder. I knew what he was capable of. If he decided he no longer fancied me, I was dead meat. Literally.

  He pulled back the gauze on my wounds to examine them and after a moment seemed satisfied. “You are healing rather quickly. I am afraid some of my power has leaked into you with the blood transfusion.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “It means you may, or may not, develop supernatural abilities. Which will be beneficial in the future if you are to be my queen.”

  I huffed in disgust before I realized I had reacted. My eyes rolled up to meet his, and he smirked at me.

  “You still do not understand how important you are to me, do you?” he asked, rhetorically.

  “Oh, you mean so important that you would chain me to a wall in my underwear? Kidnap me and tell me my family is dead? Invade my body with your demon blood? That much, huh?” I snapped.

  “Yes. That is how much I adore you, my darling. I saved your life, three times that is. Can you say the same for your family? Did they ever sacrifice everything for you?”

  “My family would walk through fire for me, as I would for them. And I get it already! You saved my life! Whoopee friggin’ doo! I didn’t ask for any of this though… I just want to go home, wherever the hell that is!” My blood was at boiling point and I couldn’t control myself. I felt his blood pumping through me now and it was… powerful. Like someone had flooded my system with high voltage energy and my nerves exploded with it.

  Stupidity took over from the surge of strength and I mindlessly leaped from the bed at lightning speed and rushed him. My brain was driven by demon blood and didn’t comprehend the fact that my body wasn’t as durable as his. It caused all rationalization to fly out the window. My frail frame collided with his and we both crashed to the floor. We struggled for a moment, tangled up in limbs, then I was able to land a blow on his left cheek. The bones in my hand crumbled with the impact and I howled. It would have hurt less if someone had sawed my arm off. Alastor froze and gawked at me in astonishment. He balled his fist in the front of my shirt and got to his feet, dragging me behind him. We reached the bed as he lifted me in the air, and tossed me on it like a rag doll.

  “Stay on the bed. Do not move an inch, or I will let my loyal soldier over there test out how tender your meat is,” he hissed at me while jabbing a finger into my chest. I craved nothing more than to attack him again, but his threats were genuine, so I didn’t tempt fate. Plus, my right hook was out of commission and I didn’t think I could fight him one-handed. The nerves around the fractured bones twitched uncontrollably. As I sat in agony, my adrenaline started to dissipate. I realized how foolish it was to fight him. But the power rush blurred my common sense. The problem was I didn’t possess the strength to go along with the fuel.

  He stormed out of the bedroom, conveying the message to Lt. Fredericks posted by the door on his way out. The undead police officer and I were becoming good friends with all the time we spend together now. Soon we would be exchanging grandma’s recipes and gossiping about Stinky Stacy that hung out with us down in the cellar on my first night of the sleepover.

  “Keep an eye on her. If she budges, you know what to do,” Alastor commanded.

  Fredericks shifted his rotting peepers in my direction and snarled. Blackened teeth snapped at me like a junkyard dog guarding his last bone. I suspected we weren’t as great of friends as I had originally thought. Slimy fluid oozed from the gnawed flesh around his mouth. A chill shot down my spine and I shivered. I didn’t dare move. Not with that thing watching me with the desire to learn how “tender my meat was”, as Alastor put it so bluntly.

  Hours passed as I gazed out the windows, fantasizing of better times, before the apocalypse transpired. I missed so much about my hometown. My job at the hospital. Sure it seemed grueling at moments with the double shifts, but it was a part of my “normal” life. My little house on Pear Street. The fragrance when the fruit trees ripened, and the comforting feeling it gave me as I walked through the door every day after work. Waving hello to my neighbors in the mornings as I sat on the tiny front porch, sipping a cup of steamy coffee. Picking up subs at Mrs. Greene’s sandwich shop and dropping by the hardware store to eat lunch with Mom and Andrew. Walking Daisy through our downtown park that circled the Main Street shopping plaza. Life was so easy then, not a constant battle to survive. I would give anything to have it all back now.

  No matter how much Alastor wanted me to forget about my family, and worked to convince me they were dead, I clung to faith that they pressed on out there searching for me. That they wouldn’t give up until we reunited. Every hour that silence reigned on this place, the tougher it became to stay optimistic. The pain and suffering I endured threatened to tear me down until all that lingers is a hollow shell of who I used to be. My willpower was strong, but not invincible.

  The chill of the night became evident as I drew out of my daydream and began to shiver. Embers smoldered on the logs in the hearth, but wasn’t producing enough heat. I despised the sight of Alastor, but without him I would freeze to death. I pulled the itchy wool blanket up over my chest and curled into a ball to retain my body temperature. There was no telling when he would return and look after the fire. I almost attempted it myself, but if I moved off the bed, I would certainly be reduced to a zombie chew toy. After another lengthy period of silence, I noticed how thirsty I was becoming and longed for a cup of water. My lips were chapped, and it hurt just to lick them. My tongue provided no relief since it contained the moisture of a cotton ball. What I would give for an ice cold Coke… Remembering all the goodies we found
between the supermarket and gas station caused hunger to creep up on me. It was my first opportunity to stop and think of how long I had been without food. My stomach growled miserably as I fantasized of cheeseburgers and French fries to go along side of that cold Coke.

  Evening approached and shadows progressed across the room. My eyes adapted to the darkness, and I memorized each weapon scattered throughout the chamber of horrors. It seemed ignorant to assume I would even stand a chance using one of them against the demon keeping me prisoner. But I had to set my sights on something useful. Why not set them on killing Alastor?

  Chapter 13

  The following day, Alastor decided to finally feed me. If I wasn’t beyond famished, I would have never dreamed of eating the hog slop he offered me. He claimed he found the unappetizing oatmeal while exploring the cupboards of the kitchen. It tasted like a hundred-year-old bowl of mildew and sawdust. Definitely not a cheeseburger and French fries, but I gagged it down as quick as possible and guzzled the glass of water he presented. I had an inkling I wouldn’t be given many opportunities to eat, so I took what I could get.

  He tended to my wound after my unfavorable meal and exposed a dumbfounded reaction when removing the gauze bandage. His eyes met mine, and I wrenched my arm from his grasp to determine what all the fuss was about. My slit wrist was fully healed. Not even a scar remained. As if I never ran that razor blade across the delicate skin. Amazement filled my expression as I turned my arm back and forth, seeking any evidence of the previous wound. Nothing. My right hand was also completely mended. Only a dull ache remained when I opened and closed my fingers.

  “What does this indicate, Alastor?” I asked him with a suspicious tone.

  “I would never have imagined my blood being that powerful to a mortal. It is as surprising to me as it is to you, my love,” he replied, reaching for my hand. I jerked away immediately. Afraid for him to touch me. His blood was changing me and I didn’t like that. Not one little bit.

  “If you think for one minute that this changes things between us, then you’re sorely mistaken, mister! You had no right to force feed me your blood. I didn’t want this,” I seethed at him.

  “Please, Autumn, settle down. This just proves you are meant to be my queen. No other mortal could receive demon blood and have such a miraculous outcome from it. You are the only one. It is your destiny, my sweet,” he declared.

  I gawked at him with no response. What in the actual hell is going on here? Why was I the “chosen” one? What is so special about me? For heaven’s sake can’t someone else take my place? All of these questions, I wanted to ask him, but I knew what his response would be. The single way out of this nightmare was to destroy him because he would never voluntarily let me leave. Not now. Not after discovering that my body accepts his blood and he can share power with me. I pictured one of those little lightbulbs, you see in cartoons, flickering on above my head as I had an epiphany.

  What if… I somehow obtain more power with each dose of his blood? Maybe I would become strong enough to challenge him one on one and save myself, rather than lying around like the damsel in distress waiting for someone to do it for me. I would use his own power against him. The wheels went from slowly turning inside my mind to maximum spinning hamster workout mode. I needed to find a means to take more of his blood. That would propose we had to get up close and personal. I’m not truly convinced I can deal with that, but I would dig down deep to expose that part of me that will do anything to survive.

  While I brainstormed on my game plan, Alastor stoked the fire and sat down beside the window. The sun lingered high in the sky, so I knew it was midday. Another blanket of snow had fallen through the night and weighed down the tree limbs on the edge of the surrounding forest. I yearned to get out of bed and walk around. My body ached with fatigue from being forced to stay put. The only occasion I was granted permission to get up was to relieve myself in the pan beside my bed. What a disgusting way to live. The stench of my excrement and urine offended my sense of smell. Alastor disposed of it once a day, but the odor never left the room, unfortunately.

  Lt. Fredericks appeared to be a permanent decoration in the bedroom, never abandoning his position by the one and only exit. At one period I speculated if he could starve to the point of actual death, but he didn’t seem weakened or distressed at all. He stood like a sculpture, only his eyes moving when I stirred on the bed. He regarded me with an intense hunger. I wondered if he could break free of Alastor’s command and rip me to shreds. With a zombie watching my every move, and a demon wanting to make me his mate… Well, let’s say I wasn’t sleeping well anymore.

  I waited Alastor out the next day, and he finally left the room to retrieve more of that irresistible oatmeal for me. Feigning sleep with my back turned to Lt. Fredericks, I snuck the book out from my bra strap. The blanket was drawn up over my shoulders and I kept the book underneath to prevent any possible sighting. My fingers traced the stitched emblem on the front and Luna’s words whispered through my mind.

  “Look to the moon and stars, Autumn. It’s the only way.”

  A golden ring circled a five-sided sided star while crescent moons curved outward on each side of the star. I didn’t understand what the symbol stood for, but it was quite alluring. The book itself had been bound in genuine leather. Age showed around the edges as some of the original threads were unraveling. I quietly opened to the first page. It was hand written in elegant script as I read the ancient words:

  To whomever this grimoire befalls on,

  You are the chosen one. This book holds the cherished spells of the Summoner’s coven. We ask that you utilize the elements within for noble purposes and to vanquish the evil of this wretched world. It carries abundant power, not to be taken for granted. We bestow our lifetime quest to do greatness unto the hands that hold the pages from the tree of life. You shall receive the blessing from each of the coven. We remain bound to it for all eternity. Continue our legacy and reach out to a soul in need. Blessed be.

  *The Summoner’s*

  I read the beginning passage over and over. It unnerved me to discover this book filled with the spells of a witch’s coven. My brain told me to throw it away, but my gut told me it might be the only means to defeat Alastor. The essence of the text was magical and my fingertips tingled against the power that surrounded it. My curiosity won the best of me and I flipped to the next page. Strange drawings and words marked the weathered paper. Most of the terms I couldn’t even pronounce if I tried. I scanned each page looking for anything that made even the tiniest bit of sense. There were drawings of creatures, people, symbols and the natural elements: earth, air, fire and water. An etched dagger stretched across one page and below revealed a four worded sentence:

  *Epsonam ocritom sistorgi wagnolis*

  I traced each word with my fingertips as I sounded them out in the barest of whispers. When I breathed out the last word, a cool gentle breeze caressed my face. The book released its force from the paper and a touchable energy embraced my skin. Chills ran from my scalp to my heels. The sensation only lasted a few seconds then dispersed. The energy was gone and air stagnant again. I peered back down at the book and the enchanted words rolled off my tongue again without my consent. My mouth freed the script from the worn paper, repeating it again and again. An eerie chime erupted from across the room that rang like someone ran their finger around the rim of a wine glass. I glanced toward the noise to find a glorious light shining on one table.

  One of the medieval daggers blazed as a brilliant white aura encircled it. I watched in fascination at the ancient weapon. Another light peeked from under the blanket so I raised it to discover the dagger on the page glowing as well. Fear rushed into me and I slammed the grimoire shut. Both lights snuffed out. Lt. Fredericks must have heard me or noticed the light, so I sneaked a look behind me to be sure he wasn't about to attack me. He remained stock still by the entrance, gazing into his own dead world. A sigh of relief flowed between my lips as I tucked the book ba
ck into my bra strap.

  The grimoire contained an extensive amount of potential. It was necessary to be cautious when investigating what charms were tucked away inside. My fingertips still tingled from touching the delicate parchment paper. My mind raced with eagerness and anxiety both. The spell book could be my saving grace... or result in my demise. The decision to take on the responsibility of possessing it weighed on my consciousness. Maybe I didn’t need it though. I might try to extract more of Alastor’s blood to use against him and that would be enough. I struggled with my options until a sound at the door snapped me out of my contemplation.

  Alastor strolled in with a platter of what I assumed was another round of disgusting oatmeal. He locked eyes with me as a suspicious look passed over his face. I feigned ignorance and remained docile, reluctant to allow a clue of my newfound discovery. After sweeping the area for any traces of foul play, he continued his trek to my bedside. The aroma of something different entered my nasal passages and my stomach growled. He sat the tray on my lap as I scooted up to a sitting position. I looked down to find a bowl of brown rice with little green peas scattered throughout. Confusion swept over me and I questioned him with raised eyebrows.

  “I assumed you might prefer something other than the porridge. After studying your expressions while you forced it into your mouth, I realized it perhaps did not taste very appetizing. I took ample time to prepare a meal worthy of my queen,” he boasted proudly.