by C. L. Bush
“Here and there,” she admitted.
“Can’t you make a permanent spell? One that would forever be stuck to the Arch and nothing can pass through it?”
“Sadly, no.” Christina waved her hand, gesturing up and down. “We tried, of course. The thing is, the Arch was created with elemental and blood magic. Elemental magic is evolutionary, just like nature is, and it’s alive in its own way.”
“Are you saying the Arch is alive?”
“Sure. It is in a sense,” she confirmed, nodding. “It gets weaker or stronger. It gets hungry.”
“Hungry?”
“Hungry for magic. Or blood.”
Clara shivered, looking at the threshold that changed her life and robbed her of her future just three days ago. “The Arch I passed through looked different,” Clara said with a frown, trying to not think about the last magical and blood meal the Arch had. “It was a tree.”
“Yeah, Ian’s alder tree.” Christina nodded. “It’s the same Arch as this one. It leads from Richmond to here, and leads from Pandemonium to here. In the worst case, it’ll connect Richmond and Pandemonium directly someday.”
“How was it before?”
“Before the Arch?” Christina asked and sighed when Clara nodded. “It was dangerous and exciting. We all trained since we were all very young, you know. We always had to be ready, and we always had to know how to defend ourselves.”
“It’s hard for me to imagine it,” Clara admitted, her eyes locked on the Arch.
“You’re lucky, then.” Christina laughed lightly and sat on the ground, looking at both Clara and the Arch. “We weren’t that lucky. Richie used to joke that we were cursed. I guess he was right.”
“Why cursed?” Clara asked but blushed when she realized what her question brought to the table. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Christina responded. “Your parents were great at what we did, you know. Cathy always had such a knack for plants and herbs.”
“My mom?”
“Oh yes, yes. She could brew up a mixture like you wouldn’t believe. She really had a nose for it,” she explained and Clara’s eyes widened, remembering a particularly uncomfortable experiment of herbal nature she had to explain to her mother before even managing to digest the brownie. “And Ian, he was always such a nerd, reading all the time, digging through the Parker library. Chris joked that Ian could take down any demon just by reciting its historical significance in the evolution of spells.” Christina laughed before continuing. “He had a charm about it, of course,” she admitted with a blush. “Always full of historical trivia, he was. Richie got me a bunny for a birthday once, and Ian just asked me if I knew that Napoleon was once attacked by rabbits.”
Yes, thought Clara to herself, everyone knows about the rabbit incident.
Christina laughed softly, teary-eyed.
“About the shadows,” Clara started, determined, ignoring Christina’s reluctance. “You didn’t tell me how you know it was them?”
“The coven linking spell is a powerful one. I’ve lost touch with the living, but as I spend more time here...” Christina sighed and buried her fingertips in the soil below her. “The remnants are nothing more than a magical trace, a feeling of a person trapped in a shadow. Since I’m slowly becoming one, it’s easier to recognize the feeling.”
“You’re becoming a remnant?”
“We all will. Helen, me... you.” Christina shrugged. “Unless a higher demon passes through from the Pandemonium and obliterates us, that is.”
Clara shuddered, and faced Christina fully. “What do these remnants do?”
“Usually just appear and disappear. Linger around the spots that were important to them while they were alive,” Christina explained, hesitant to carry on. “Sometimes they warn us. Like, if there’s something particularly nasty trying to pass from Pandemonium.”
“Nasty like what?”
“Nasty like a higher demon. But that happened only once. You don’t have to worry about it.” Christina smiled.
Clara wouldn’t be dissuaded. “And what’s a higher demon?” she asked, digging her heels into the soft ground and placing her fists on her hips. Christina sighed once again, like a bored teenager faced with a particularly avid student. She laid on her back, using mushy autumn-like leaves as a bed and stared into the red sky above them in silence for a while.
Clara let her be. She turned around, surveying the woods around them. The trees seemed to be the most alive presence in the Arch. Streaks of green, real, live green, appeared here and there, and the plants encompassed all the seasons at the same time. A white bud beautifully contrasted the red and yellow of autumn leaves. Patches of grass were yellow from a drought in some places while fighting the frost in others.
“This whole place has a split personality,” Clara concluded and turned to the still Christina. “So, my brave guide, will you share your knowledge with me?”
Christina responded with a smile that quickly melted into a frown. “You know, we really thought we knew what we were doing. And not just us, the adults, too. We had the support of the senior coven. And I know it doesn’t look like it from this point, but what we did, it saved Richmond. At least for a while,” she said firmly, an unexpected strength intertwined with her words. “Back then, we would have a major demon interference every couple of years. People were dying. Richmond was known as the ‘suicide capital’ because all of the supernatural deaths we had to pass through the system.”
“How is it possible that the people in the town never found out?”
“Of course they found out. Most of them knew something was going on, but they also knew it was being taken care of, and they didn’t want to know much more than that. And the coven has existed for centuries. The members have been distinguished people in society with lots of influence and lots of connections. That’s how none of the federal authorities were alarmed. We got a snoopy reporter here and there, wanting to research the high number of recorded suicides... The coven had its ways to take care of it.”
“So, these higher demons were in Richmond?” Clara asked, taking a soft spot next to Christina and deciding to skip on finding out what ways of taking care of snoops the Richmond coven had.
“Several times,” she answered, her eyes closed and her jaw clenched. “The worst one was during our second year of high school. One killed seven kids before they managed to stop it. It took a three-day spell just to send him back to Pandemonium.”
“You didn’t kill it?”
“No one has figured out how to kill it yet. Well, no one did before I ended up in the Arch. Maybe they did now,” she added. “You see, a Souleater feeds off unused potential life energy.”
“Don’t tell me it eats your soul?”
“Ever heard that the human body loses a couple of grams after the person dies? Well, that’s your Souleater.”
“But, that’s impossible. That’s biology, not magic,” Clara argued.
Christina shot her an amused glare. “And magic isn’t biology?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know what magic is or isn’t?” Clara retorted and jumped to her feet.
Christina laughed. “Don’t worry about it. You could spend your lifetime learning about magic and still not know enough. We thought we knew a lot more than we realized we know once Helen and I ended up in here. Like the demon theory.”
“Demon theory?”
“You can learn about it from that book Helen gave you. The one you keep carrying around in your backpack. Anyway, the demon theory basically says that most demons’ nature is to seek, sow, and thrive in chaos and death. Which is true, but only for some demons, and for others it actually blurred the foundational instinct. It took a face-to-face meeting with Pandemonium to realize what demons most of all want: life.”
Clara stared at Christina blankly, enjoying the lecture but finding of little use.
“You’ve seen Pandemonium?” Clara realized what she’d heard and noticed instant regret in Christina’s
eyes. “Show me.”
“Absolutely not,” she responded, scurrying to her feet. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I want to see it, Christina,” Clara continued. “If my choices are a suicidal spell or slowly perishing into a shadow, I want to know what I’m fighting for. I want to know what my father thought was worthy of the crap he left for me to solve.”
Christina hesitated, ruffling leaves with her foot.
“It’s very dangerous,” Christina almost whispered. “Fine. Helen was right. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Clara didn’t care how dangerous it was. “She said that?”
“She said you remind her a lot of Ian. She’s right,” Christina mumbled and walked toward the Arch.
“Are we going to pass through it?”
“Absolutely not,” Christina said and this time the firmness in her voice told Clara she wouldn’t change her mind. “You’re only to get a peak. Don’t touch anything. Don’t move toward anything. Don’t speak anything, not even your name. Especially your name.”
“So, basically, do nothing?”
“Exactly.” Christina nodded, breathing deeply in. “Only a glance, Clara. This isn’t a game; anything and everything in Pandemonium can and will kill you if given the chance.”
“Don’t get killed.” Clara gave a thumbs up and the presence of the silver cuff on Clara’s wrist seemed to soothe Christina’s anxiety - only a smidge.
Christina turned toward the Arch and mumbled soft words. The fluid Latin eluded Clara still and she pondered how the dead language got a new meaning completely. The Arch’s milky, web-like surface blurred and darkened, like Clara had seen before. Its passage was no longer gentle and glowing; it was dark and hollow, radiating cold.
“What do I do?” Clara asked as Christina finished the enchantment.
“Press your face to it,” Christina explained. “I’ll be holding your hand on this side. Don’t let go under any circumstances and don’t step inside under any circumstances. I’ll pull you back and close the passage.”
Clara nodded and stepped forward, nervously turning to Christina. “So, you can pass there any time you want but they can’t easily pass to our side?”
“We’re stronger on this side of the Arch than demons and wraiths. We have a stronger connection to our world than they do. But that isn’t the case in their world, and it’s not the case in Richmond. That’s one of the benefits of the Arch. It strengthens our powers.”
Clara nodded, squared her shoulders and stood face-to-face with the Arch.
“Just gently peak in,” Christina calmly instructed, grabbing Clara’s hand and securing it in her grip. “Don’t panic. Don’t scream.”
Clara nodded once more as her heart raced. She slowly stepped an inch away from the Arch and felt Christina’s grip tighten. Clara breathed in deeply, like she had seen Christina do, and leaned forward. Eyes closed, lips tightly pressed - she allowed her face to dive into the Pandemonium.
The Arch was cold, homogenous and silent. The whispers that surround the Arch were lost in it. Clara’s heart skipped a beat. Instead of scorching heat as she expected, she felt only coldness.
Realizing she was in Pandemonium, or at least a part of her, Clara opened her eyes. The bleakness around her made the Arch seem cheerful. Fog and a heavy smell of death hid the flat landscape, not a living soul to be seen. The whispers were screams here, shouting, begging, and mocking.
A cold sensation took over her lips, and Clara felt it spreading through the Arch, through her whole body. She recognized the feeling, the sudden realization of impending death she felt right before she’d stepped into the Arch. While it was a mix of her expectations and fear then, here and now the sensation was strange and alien.
It wasn’t Clara who thought she was going to die. it was the world around her assuring her it would be so.
Her heart pumped harder, stronger, as if defying what she was seeing. And with the call of her living, beating heart, fresh movements Clara couldn’t describe as anything but elegant met her ears. Panic spurred through her body and she tried to grab Christina’s hand harder but failed. The steps and movements grew closer and closer, and screams grew louder and louder.
Clara felt a strong pull and closed her eyes. She opened her eyes and looked at Christina who was calming the Arch the same way as before - a bloody fingertip and unintelligible words.
“I felt dead,” Clara whispered as Christina turned to face her. “I could feel my heart giving up. Is that what they do? The demons?”
“Ultimately,” Christina confirmed. “They crave life and bring death.”
“How do you stop that?” Clara gasped, taking several steps back and clenching her cuff. “How does anyone stop that? There’s no way.”
“There is a way.” Christina stepped forward and grabbed her fists. “We can seal it for good or we can die trying.”
“Is that what Richmond would look like if the Arch collapses?”
“It would take some time before it would reach that point,” Christina answered gravely. “But eventually - probably yes.”
Clara twirled her cuff and stared at the ground, fighting to shake off the feeling of Pandemonium.
“We should go,” Christina suggested, carelessly cleaning her bloody finger off her pants. “The water wraiths have probably felt the discharge of magic and at least one will be here soon.”
Clara took a step back and cleared her throat. “Let them come.” Christina’s face paled at the idea. “I have to practice anyway. You said it yourself. If we’re going to do this... then, I have to do it properly. Or at least something like that.”
Christina hesitated for a split of a second before firmly approaching and correcting Clara’s stance.
“If you’re waiting for your opponent, you might as well use the time to stand properly. Put your hands up - that will help you focus your magic. No, not like that. Put your left hand forward, and keep the right one close to your chest. The cuff might help you survive, so you don’t want to risk losing that arm first.”
“Losing my arm?” Clara turned in shock, her cheeks red. “Exactly how high are the odds of that happening?”
“High enough to be careful,” Christina answered, sounding more like Helen than her cheery self. “Keep your eyes focused, don’t shift them around too much. The creature might try to confuse you by moving quickly. That just slows down your brain and reflexes. You need to be focused and calm.”
“But Helen said the outburst of magic when I’m in danger, plus the cuff, might be the strongest approach?”
“That’s for the occasions when you don’t have time to think or plan. You’re learning the proper way now.”
“Is this spell strong enough?”
“If you cast it properly, it’ll be more than enough for a water wraith.”
“What were the words again?”
“Armis centum. Say it only one time once you’re ready to cast the spell. That’s important.”
“I know, I know.” Clara nodded, nervously assessing her emotional attachment to any of her limbs.
“And focus on the wraith,” Christina added, her voice deep and scary. “If you even think of me at that moment, if you think of asking for help, you’ll direct your spell toward me and I won’t survive it. Even if you cast it poorly.”
“You survived last time,” Clara almost whimpered.
Christina shrugged. “You didn’t have your cuff during practice. This is the real thing.”
Clara swallowed heavily. “The real thing,” she repeated, clenching her fists. “It’s not like I can kill you, really.”
“How so?” Christina frowned.
Clara smiled nervously as a familiar slither came from the woodland shadows. “We’re dead anyway.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
First Day of Spring
SAM
Samantha twirled the ugly ring on her finger, losing her thoughts in the deep, dark emerald. The ring was rich silver, roya
l and strange, an old heirloom of the Smiths. Clara’s mom enchanted it to limit her magic to the bare minimum, so even glancing at it made her furious. With her magic just out of reach, Sam felt more frustrated than ever, and she had a constant visual reminder.
Like any enchanted object, only the ones placing it could take it off, and Cathy refused to defy the coven’s decision. Sam hated it, like most of the recent decisions the coven made, but without open rebellion to it. It was hard for her not to be angry at Clara’s mom for her compliance.
“Sam are you listening?” Cathy’s voice rang out from across the room.
Sam glanced at Cathy. “Yes, just... hmm.” She returned her focus back to the herbs in front of her. It had been two weeks since the ring was placed on her hand and Cathy took it upon herself to offer a different approach to magical training than Zoey had. Zoey focused on trial and error, repetition of spells and enchantments, what was called active magic. Cathy’s approach was passive. Her specialty was herbs and symbols, magical lore and history.
The Smith family tradition went back further than most settlers’. Some stories even stated their ancestors were druids, gifted with the ability to see the future and cursed with the task of performing sacrifices to the gods. Of course, even the druids changed with time and left the bloody part of their beginnings behind them, focusing on herbal and elemental magic. There were stories about Clara’s grandfather, and his infallible intuition was borderline premonitions, which Sam never had a chance to ask about.
With time, however, her curiosity subsided. She usually guessed Clara was smart and analytical enough to be aware of the possibilities more than an average person, but giving her supernatural intuition was too much to think about. Having an empath friend and a would-be coven leader in her immediate proximity was enough without having a prophet as well.
The history of magic was the foundation to everything. Cathy wholeheartedly believed and preached the idea. Her stance was pretty straightforward. Herbs, elements, blood - all of it was nothing but symbols that helped dormant magical abilities or consciousness be focused, traced and used in accordance to will, to the goal. Different types of magic were different types of language, and each person had to decide which language suited them, which symbolic outline suited their unconscious self and their magic.