Hexed

by Michael Alan Nelson

  “Are you sure you can do this?” Lucifer asked.

  “Of course,” David said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Lucifer fingered the rubber strip that protected the passenger window inside the car door as she looked out into the darkness. Clouds blanketed the sky, but the nearly full moon glowed behind them, turning them silver against the black.

  “I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to be in school or something?”

  “It’s ten-thirty at night.”

  “You know what I mean,” Lucifer said, knowing he could see her scowl.

  “My parents are in Costa Rica until next week and my school doesn’t care. I’m a senior and I’m so far ahead on credits I only have to go two days a week. All my teachers will think I’m out scouting colleges or something. And basketball conditioning doesn’t start for a couple of weeks yet so none of my coaches will wonder either. It’s fine.”

  Lucifer nodded. Ever since their close call at the gallery, Lucifer didn’t want David around. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy his company. She did, more than anything. It was that what they were doing could get him in serious trouble. It was bad enough that David could have been arrested after the cemetery, not to mention that he would be facing serious jail time if they had been caught at the art gallery. But what they were doing now could get him killed. Or worse.

  Much worse.

  But the allure of magic was intoxicating. Lucifer knew that all too well. She also knew that when things went south, they went by bullet train. David didn’t. And the close call at the gallery didn’t seem to convince him of the danger either. He spent most of the ride home peppering her with questions. What were those crystals? How did you know the trick in the alley would work? Was that magic too? Why steal that painting? And on and on and on. They were all perfectly natural questions, questions she would have asked herself in his position. But it was the enthusiasm with which he asked them that made her nervous. Curiosity didn’t just kill cats.

  Lucifer tried to dissuade him from coming, but he was insistent. After the heist, Lucifer was simply too tired to argue with him, so she just told him to pick her up later that afternoon after they both had a chance to get some real rest.

  They had been driving for almost four hours, stopping only once for food and a bathroom break. They followed the coast toward Cape Vale or, at least, what used to be Cape Vale before the great hurricane of ’36 wiped the small coastal town from the face of the earth. Now it was a quiet resort where the wealthy could park their seafaring playthings for the winter.

  They pulled off of Highway 95 and headed east toward the ocean. Even with the windows up, Lucifer could smell the salt in the air. David’s headlights illuminated the lonely road. The darkness of the night seemed to swallow the entire world except for the tiny sliver of asphalt directly in front of them. Even the silvery moon couldn’t break through the blanket of clouds enough to offer any respite from the swallowing darkness.

  After another twenty minutes, orange light broke through the black veil of night. Oldport Marina was just ahead.

  Lucifer had David drive past the marina first to get a better idea of what was there. Google Street View had given her a pretty good idea of the marina’s layout, but she still preferred to see things firsthand before making a plan of action.

  The marina was thick with boats. Most were sailboats, though there were a few trawlers and yachts scattered among the masts that stretched across the calm water like a dense forest of pale, naked trees. Many of the smaller crafts were covered with protective tarps, while a handful of smaller dinghies and rowboats were stacked in dry dock on the various piers, all recently stored away for the season. It didn’t take long for Lucifer to spot exactly what she needed.

  David parked in a small lot where his car wouldn’t be conspicuous. Lucifer grabbed her trick bag and the tube with the painting. She said, “You should wait here.”

  “No way.”

  “David—”

  “Lucifer, I’ve already committed a felony with you. What’s one more?”

  She sighed. “This is going to be different. If things go wrong here, you won’t get arrested. You’ll die.”

  “I know how to swim.”

  “You’d be lucky if it was drowning that killed you.”

  David gave her a playful smirk and said, “What else would it be? Sharks?”

  “A witch.” Lucifer watched his smile evaporate.

  “Is it the witch that took Gina?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “It’s Minnie Hester, the Witch of Cape Vale.”

  “Okay, but how dangerous could a witch named Minnie be?” His smile returned, irritating the hell out of her.

  “Dangerous enough to kill both of us with a thought if we aren’t careful. This isn’t the gallery, David. We’re not trying to avoid cops and cameras and security guards. I’m going to talk to a witch. Do you get that?”

  David’s smile was replaced by a stern resolve. “Then I’m definitely coming with you. If witches are as dangerous as you say they are, then you’ll need protection.”

  Lucifer rolled her eyes and said, “How very Cro-Magnon of you. I can protect myself, David. But that’s the problem. I don’t know if I can protect you. Witches are bad, bad business. Their magic is beyond deadly.”

  “But you have magic.”

  “No, I don’t. I can do magic, but I don’t have it. Think of magic like flying. If I want to fly, I need an airplane. And I know enough to pilot a small Cessna. Witches can fly without a plane because they have magic. It’s a part of them, like immense and agile wings. And their magic is powerful. I mean, they murdered their own children to get it. Imagine what they’ve been given in exchange for that kind of sacrifice.”

  “Given? Given by what?”

  Lucifer sighed. “We can have that conversation when I get back.”

  “When we get back.”

  Lucifer sat in silence for a moment. They were running out of time, and she knew the only way David was going to stay in the car was if she knocked him out with a quick punch to the head. Since she wasn’t willing to do that, she nodded and opened the car door. “C’mon.”

  The air was cool, but it hinted at the biting cold of autumn every time a subtle breeze blew in off the water. Lucifer chided herself for not wearing something warmer or better insulated.

  David was wearing dark jeans, a heather gray Henley and an army-green jacket. Lucifer was impressed. He had obviously paid attention after she scolded him for his ridiculous outfit at the gallery heist and chose clothes more appropriate for sneaking around in the dark. And though his jacket was unlined, he didn’t seemed bothered by the bitter cold hiding behind the soft ocean breeze.

  Lucifer led him toward a small black dinghy that was moored to the side of one of the wooden piers. She pointed and said, “Untie the lines.” As David did as he was told, she hopped inside and began pulling items from her trick bag.

  The sounds of the creaking pier beneath David’s footsteps echoed across the still water. As the dinghy bobbed beneath Lucifer’s minimal weight, small waves lapped against the hulls of nearby boats, adding to the quiet cacophony.

  Once the lines were untied, David jumped in next to Lucifer. “They have cameras here.”

  Without looking up, Lucifer said, “Yes, they do. But we’re returning the boat when we’re done. So they won’t have any reason to review the footage.”

  “Aren’t there security guards?”

  She nodded. “They don’t pay much attention, though.”

  “How do you know?”

  “When I first came to America, I didn’t have any place to stay, so I’d find a marina just like this one. Most of the boats are unlocked, so I’d snoop around until I found one and then crawl inside and sleep there for the night. If security ever noticed me, they never bothered me because nothing ever went missing. I suspect security here will be the same. Now grab that paddle and start pushing us out.”

  David did so but then said, “Why no
t use the outboard motor?”

  “Too much noise. But don’t worry, you won’t have to paddle far.”

  She grabbed a couple of life vests from the back of the boat, tossed one to David, and then put hers on. After she had it securely fastened, Lucifer leaned over the side of the boat and scooped up some water into a small plastic cup she had in her trick bag. She then placed her hand over the top of the cup and turned it upside down. Etched on the bottom of the cup was a symbol made of flowing lines and intersecting circles. “Tella mar undeulla,” she whispered. The symbol glowed with a soft green light. The water inside the cup leaked out over the side of her hand, the drops hitting the floor of the boat with tiny thuds. When the water was gone, the glowing symbol faded and Lucifer lifted the cup. There, in the palm of her hand, was a nyriandran. A small creature similar to a jellyfish but with long wing-like fins and large lavender eyes that stood out in stark contrast to its green, bioluminescent skin.

  David stopped rowing to get a better look at the creature that Lucifer was holding. “It’s beautiful,” he said.

  “She is. But also very fragile. I need to get her in the water soon, but I want us clear of these boats first.”

  David took the hint and started rowing again, but he kept a mesmerized eye on the nyriandran. Once they were past the docks and out in the small bay, Lucifer gently placed the creature in the water. She could see its tiny body glowing beneath the surface of the water. The nyriandran swam to the bow of the boat. There, tiny lines of light grew from its body and attached themselves to the bottom of the boat. Soon the creature was guiding the boat silently out of the bay, pulled by its illuminated tendrils.

  “She’s called a nyriandran. Sort of an aquatic bloodhound. She can sniff out magic and get us close to where we need to be. Closer than I could get us, anyway.”

  “You keep saying magic is this horrible thing,” David said, leaning over the bow to watch the graceful nyriandran. “But all I’ve seen is beauty and wonder.”

  Lucifer stared out in the endless dark of the ocean beyond the breakwater and said, “That’s about to change.”

  The air grew cooler, and the breeze started to cut through Lucifer’s thin hoodie the farther out they went. When the boat finally moved past the breakwater, it rose and fell in the small, gentle swells. The stillness of the night was replaced with the soft hiss of wind and the lapping of water against the side of the dinghy.

  Lucifer fought back a wave of fear as she stared out into the impossible darkness of the ocean beyond. It was endless. Only the dim light of the sheltered moon peeking through the haze of clouds overhead was visible. Beneath it was nothing but a vast, swirling emptiness waiting to swallow her whole.

  Lucifer and David suddenly hitched forward as the nyriandran stopped pulling the boat. She looked down to see the creature retracting its gossamer tendrils and slipping deeper into the water until her green light disappeared into the darkness below.

  “What happened?” David asked.

  “This is as close as she’s willing to get. We’ll have to go the rest of the way ourselves.”

  “And which way is that? I can’t see anything.”

  Lucifer scanned the dark horizon. The moonlight was penetrating enough to show thin whitecaps crashing against a small island of rocks about a hundred yards away. “There,” she said, pointing. “I’ll get the motor started.”

  After a quick bit of tinkering, Lucifer hotwired the outboard motor. The engine was annoyingly loud after the serene calm of the nyriandran. She twisted the throttle and steered the boat toward the rocks. The water grew choppier the closer they came. The boat rose above the crest of a wave and slammed back down into a trough, sending a shock of pain up her spine. She slowed, but it did little to help. Black water sprayed into her eyes, and the refreshing smell of salty sea air was being encroached by the sour stench of rotting fish.

  Lucifer brought the boat to a stop about twenty yards from the barren island. Any closer, and the waves could smash the boat against the rocks and rupture the bladders that kept it afloat. The island itself was only about fifty yards across but just tall enough that the waves didn’t roll over the top. That was where she needed to be.

  There was a small anchor in the corner of the boat. Lucifer quickly tossed it overboard and killed the motor. “What time is it?” she asked.

  David pulled out his phone. “Eleven fifty-two.”

  Lucifer reached into her trick bag and pulled out a large brass bell and a steel mallet. Thick patches of green bled over the ancient bell, but the angular symbol etched into its face was still clearly visible, even in the hidden moonlight. “At exactly midnight, ring this bell four times, then toss it in the water.” She then took off her life vest and started untying her shoes.

  “What are you doing?” David asked.

  “I have to get to the island and I don’t want my clothes weighing me down.”

  “You’re going into the water? Are you nuts?”

  She unzipped her hoodie. “Any closer and the boat will crash into the rocks and sink. I’d rather swim a hundred feet to those rocks than a quarter mile back to shore.”

  Lucifer slipped out of her hoodie and then took off her jeans. She was now wearing nothing but pink and blue striped boy shorts and a thin spaghetti-strap tank top. Even in the dark, she could see David was trying to avert his eyes.

  “David, I’m going to need you to keep an eye on me.”

  “But you’re . . .”

  “More covered than I would be in a regular bathing suit. Stop being such a prude and focus.” She slipped her life vest back on and asked, “What are you going to do at exactly midnight?”

  He stared at her and said, “Ring the bell four times.”

  “And then?”

  “Toss it in the water,” he said. “Lucifer, shouldn’t I go with you?”

  “Only if you want to die.”

  Lucifer tossed her clothes and shoes into a garbage bag she had brought to keep everything dry. When she slung the painting tube over her shoulder, David said, “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

  Lucifer froze. Her mark. “Yeah, I’ve got a tattoo.”

  “Why an ‘h’? Shouldn’t it be an ‘L’ for Lucifer?” he asked.

  “It’s not a letter. It’s . . . something else. And not important right now.” She turned around and faced him. “David, whatever you do, do not come to the island for me. You stay in this boat, no matter what.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Let’s at least get the boat a little closer—”

  “We can’t, I told you. Now remember, exactly midnight,” Lucifer said before jumping overboard.

  The water was painfully cold. Lucifer clamped down her teeth to keep from suddenly inhaling a mouthful of seawater. The ocean roared around her, lifting her then lowering her, over and over again as she fought the current toward the rocks. The island was only a few yards away but felt like miles now that she was in the frigid water.

  She dropped into the trough of a wave, and her foot touched rock. She was close. She gave one final kick and reached a slimy outcropping, but a wave pulled her hand free and she was sucked back out into the ocean. Again, she fought her way to the island and this time was able to hold on. She pulled herself out of the water and onto the slippery rocks. The rocks were ice cold, making her skin crawl with goose pimples.

  When she was finally able to stand, the wind cut through her as easily as an arctic blast. Instantly, her teeth began to chatter. Lucifer wanted nothing more than to huddle in tight and warm herself, but she didn’t have time. She did her best to ignore the cold and made her way to the flat center of the island.

  Lucifer opened the tube and pulled out the painting. She unfurled the thick canvas and laid it facedown on the rock. On the back, she had already inscribed a series of glyphs and symbols in a deliberate arrangement. There was just enough moonlight to allow her to inspect what she had drawn, making sure the pattern was correct. Everything looked to be in order, not tha
t there was anything she could have done about it if it wasn’t.

  A tiny chime echoed across the water. Lucifer turned to see David floating in the dinghy, his face lit by the light of his phone as its alarm bleated across the water. The light disappeared. Then she heard four dull klangs as David rang the bell, one right after another. After the fourth, Lucifer watched him hurl the bell into the water.

  The ringing of the bell hung in the air for a moment, like an echo trapped in the wind. But as it started to fade, she could feel it thrumming in the wet rock beneath her feet, as if the bell were still ringing, sending its haunting chime to reverberate through the water as it sank. There was no mistaking it now. The rock was vibrating. Though Lucifer stood still, the island was shaking enough to slide her across its surface.

  Lucifer couldn’t hear the bell any more, but she could feel its chime growing more intense in the water and stone beneath her. The soft breeze turned into a gust strong enough to cause the excess fabric of her shirt to whip against her shivering skin with loud, wet slaps.

  Suddenly the water on the far side of the island fell away as if the bottom of the sea had disappeared. Lucifer could see a whorl of black barnacles and twisted anemones that clung to the jagged base of the island. She could make out movement among the rocks. Irregular shapes with slimy limbs glistening in the sparse moonlight slipped over the suddenly exposed stone, reaching and crawling up the edge of the island.

  The gusting wind became a gale as the ocean rushed back to fill the void it had left just a moment ago. Lucifer grabbed the painting as the swollen wave crashed across the island with such violence that it knocked her down and sluiced her to the edge of the rocks. She coughed up a mouthful of saltwater and was able to catch her breath before another wave pummeled her. She clutched at a small crevice between two rocks, letting its sharp edge dig into her fingers to help keep the water from pushing her off the island.

  What had once been a relatively calm sea just moments before was now a raging hurricane. The black waves burst into white foam that disappeared in the howling wind that screamed across the lonely rocks. The water lashed at Lucifer’s bare skin. Each wave was a stinging, relentless claw that threatened to pull her off the sanctuary of stone and into the deep.