by Ira Robinson
"Yeah, absolutely."
His other hand lifted, signaling her to stay in place as he strode toward the cabin. Each was made carefully, making as little noise as he could.
She stayed, but kept her eyes on him as he paced. Once more she wished Bart had not taken her gun from her; she was helpless before whatever was to come.
But she readied herself for anything, her legs bent slightly in order to run toward or away from the cabin in the woods.
When he reached the narrow porch, a loud crack sounded. He stumbled as the old slat-step broke beneath his weight, and he had to reach his hand to the outer wall to steady himself anew.
A skittering within the interior of the cabin echoed out as a small rabbit bolted from the opened doorway, bounding past Bart into the open field.
Sam watched with shock at the appearance as the quick, agile form ran into the woods and disappeared from sight. Bart had his palm on his chest when she turned back to him, catching his breath from the disturbance.
"You alright?" she shouted over the distance, a smile on her face.
He nodded, saying nothing in response, but he relaxed his hand from the gun in the holster. He clicked the safety button back in place.
She strolled to him, keeping an eye open for any other signs of movement, but, seeing none, she passed him and entered the cabin. He followed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly to relax.
Other than the floor being disturbed by whatever creatures happened to find their rest in the shelter of the building, and the speedy departure of the rabbit on the run, nothing looked different from when she had been there. She leaned her back against the wall near the door.
Bart, however, seemed taken aback by what he saw inside, his eyes drifting from the shelves to the bed and everywhere between. To Sam, he did not seem to know how to take it all, but she might have been confusing it with him being vigilant for anything new to come along.
She nodded to the spot she pulled up the floorboards and stated, "That's where I found his book."
He mumbled, but she did not understand. He took another pace inward, his eyes moving non-stop.
"I think he spent a lot of time here," she added, hoping to prompt him into talking to her.
He still said nothing, though. He walked to the stove and touched the top of it, running his fingers along the dirt and rust, then went to the bed and kicked one of the legs gently. Crumbles of dust filtered away from the left-over fabric.
"I wish you could have known him," Bart finally split the silence as he came back to her. "He did a lot for the community. For me." He folded his arms in front of himself. "I really miss him."
"You're not the only one," Sam heard drift in from the doorway.
She whirled around, almost hitting Bart with her swinging arm as she raised it in surprise. Her feet edged backward.
Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as Tamara stepped inside, a frown pasted on her face.
Chapter 34
The last bits of bone dust tumbled from the large sack as Tamara shook it over and over again.
The girl folded the bag and came to her feet, surveying the extended patch of grass contained in the circle of white powder. She nodded, long hair flickering in the soft breeze coming across the empty space between the cabin and the forest.
Sam was not sure what to do other than wait, but Odessa's warning that the circle had to be unbroken for the spell to work echoed in her awareness. She looked for any breaks in the line, but Tamara had done a good job; it was whole.
Bart kept silent while Tamara worked, his own eyes roving across the trees beyond them. Whatever else was going through his mind, he stayed vigilant for anything. Despite what they said to each other and the frustration she had over his handling of her, Sam was grateful for his presence. As the moments passed, and the time for the ritual neared, her own agitation at what might happen grew.
She pressed her teeth together tightly to keep them from chattering; fear and anxiety were having their way inside of her, and she could do nothing to stem the tide of emotions.
Tamara, too, seemed on edge, but Sam had the impression the girl had seen more things than she could ever imagine. The edginess in her movements could have been more akin to excitement, rather than nervousness. Perhaps, for her, it was more of a game to play, not the life and death struggle it was for Sam.
Maybe it was confidence in her own abilities that gave the girl the sense of authority. She had, after all, been able to banish the revenant away when it attacked Sam at the Society. If she had the capacity to do that, could she not, perhaps, have the strength to go the next step?
Tamara walked the circle once more, staring at every aspect of it to make sure there was nothing out of place, then came to Sam's side and bent to the large pack siting at her feet. She slipped the empty bag into it and shuffled the rest of the contents around.
The girl rose a moment later with a bottle in her hand. The dark metal was lined with symbols on all sides. Most were completely unfamiliar, but Samantha spotted a few that could have been crosses.
She spun the top off and poured a little liquid out onto each of her hands. A strange mix of pine and cedar came to Sam as the girl coated both with the clear fluid.
"What's that stuff?" Sam asked as Tamara put the bottle on the ground, still open, and spread it along her forearms.
"Think of it as holy oil," she replied, tossing her a slight smile. "Purifying. I don't know if it'll be needed, but, hey, it can't hurt, right?"
She shook off some of the excess and picked the bottle up again. "Let me put some on you, too," she said. When Sam held out her own, she poured some of it out over her palms.
While Sam covered herself as she saw Tamara do, the girl crossed over to Bart and did the same for him, as well. She returned to the pack while watching the siblings cleansing themselves with the anointing.
When they were finished, Tamara took the journal from Sam and went back to the circle. She stepped carefully over the dividing line of creme-colored dust and put the book as close to the center of it as she could get. She adjusted it a few more times before being satisfied before coming to Sam's side.
"Once we start, there's no stopping until it's finished, one way or the other. Understand?"
Samantha took a deep breath and nodded.
Tamara looked at Bart and raised her brows.
"I know the deal," he said flatly, finally moving away from the cabin itself to come closer to the two women. "What do you need me to do?"
"Moral support, for now," she answered. "Just be ready for whatever may come."
He bowed his head, accepting her words, but Tamara held his gaze for a moment longer. Sam was not sure what she was searching for in Bart's eyes, but she eventually returned to the pack and pulled a long length of rope from it.
She moved to the center of the circle and slipped the rope beneath the book, careful to not shift it. She backed slowly, laying out the length until she left the barrier she was creating. None of the grave dust scattered away as the rope crossed over it.
She put it near Sam's feet. Once she was done, Sam fetched the silver necklace her mother had given to her from her pocket and laid it atop the end of the rope.
One more thing came from the bag, a large piece of metal shaped like a U. She shoved it into the ground over the rope between Sam and the circle of dust, pinning it into place.
"What's that for?" Sam asked.
"Just in case," Tamara replied. "I'm not taking chances."
Sam nodded, recalling what happened to Odessa.
With everything worked out, Tamara stepped from Sam, kneeling on her knees a distance away. She bent her head and put her hands on her thighs, then closed her eyes.
Her lips moved but no sound came out and, for a moment, Sam was confused as to what the girl was doing. She wanted to sidle closer to pick out the words but, if it was a spell, she recognized she would not be able to hold on to it, anyhow. It would be a useless gesture.
She realized, after
a few more minutes, she was making a silent prayer of some kind and wondered to which God she beseeched. Or was it to something like that? Maybe, from the little Sam knew of her, it was merely to the Earth, itself.
Tamara opened her lids, finished with the ritual she was doing and breathed deeply. She did not stand, though; her eyes stared flatly ahead, focusing on nothing.
When she did eventually come to her feet, she did it with ease, gracefully arising with little effort.
The blank stare she had taken on came into focus and she nodded at Sam as she crossed to the other side.
"We're set," she said aloud, her voice carrying over the distance to both Sam and Bart.
He moved to a spot outside of the circle between Tamara and herself. He did not pull the gun from his holster, but he rested his hand on it just the same.
Had had he done this before? Sam wondered how many rituals did take part in. How often had he stood watch over something like it? A dozen? A hundred? His denial of the knowledge of magic seemed anemic in his easy assurance that he knew what he was doing.
She tore her sight from him and bent down to the rope. Her hands tied the end of it and the necklace together, hopeful the knot would hold, whatever may happen.
She cleared her throat and relaxed her knees as much as she could. She could squat for some time without it becoming painful, but the more she could calm, the better.
She closed her eyes, trying to center herself, despite the ends of her nerves being frayed as they were. When she sensed she was going to be the best she could be, she nodded toward Tamara.
"Ready," she said, not sure if Tamara would be able to hear. She cleared her throat and said it again, this time louder.
"Set here," Bart announced, though she did not look his way. She kept her own observance on the girl.
The circle was large enough that all three of them could stand side-by-side in its confines, spread apart until their arms were completely outstretched and still leave spacebetween. The dust making the barrier was laid thicker than what Odessa had done, but Sam was not sure it would be ample. Was there room inside to keep the strength of the revenant within?
Or would he be able to break it as before?
He was so powerful...
Sam took a deep breath again, releasing it slowly. Those thoughts would not do. Her fear would only give him more.
Yet, though she knew it was the truth, she could not help but feel the pressure inside, fed by the dark thing her father left.
She had to believe she would soon be free. She had to push down the sinister ideas and make sure whatever energy she had lingering of herself was focused on breaking the hold the revenant had on her.
She returned her hand to the necklace and laced the strand around her fingers to help keep her grip, then laid the silver rose pendant in her palm. She enfolded it tightly, hard enough that the ragged ends of it pained her.
Tamara raised her hands until they were at her waist. Her palms faced upward as she began to chant words aloud. One by one, they flowed from her lips, each sounding, as they had before, like so much gibberish to Sam, but the power quickly took effect.
Despite the afternoon light, a glow formed within the palms of the girl. At first pure white, it shifted as more words came into a darker shade, until it bubbled to a hue close to the blue sky above. Tamara was not watching her own hands, however; she was, instead, staring at nothing. Her gaze was completely unfocused and, as more of the words came, her eyes began to roll back into her head until all Sam could see was ivory and blood-shot red veins.
Tamara eventually turned her hands upside down, and, as she did, the blue flowed down, like a slow smoke moving across a floor, until it reached the dust near her feet. A subtle glow started along the line of the circle, and the hue shifted once again to become the creme color of the dried and blended up bones.
That light intensified as her voice gained in volume. Sam's heart lifted as it did; this was different than it had been before. Tamara's strength was potent and each word raised its ferocity further.
As the glow suffused every bit of the dust covering the ground, Sam felt the pendant she held within her grip get warmer. Her hand dampened with sweat as it heated up, forcing her to seize it tighter. A stabbing sensation filtered through her wrist, which was starting to ache already from the tension.
Sam put her other hand down, helping to hold herself in position. No matter what, she had to stay strong, had to keep herself where Tamara needed her.
The flowing words changed into a timbre the younger woman did not normally have. Sam could still understand nothing of it, but, as the new types of words came, the center of the circle shifted.
The air began to darken, the light from the sun itself being blocked out by something forming there. Bits of grime, perhaps picked up from the ground itself, swirled within the confines of the circle, and, with it, the scent of decay, flesh rotted for too long in the open, struck Sam's senses.
She turned her nose up at it, but it could not be avoided; it was everywhere around her, and the breeze, though it was picking up, did not abate it in any way.
More swirling dust, seemingly from the air itself, formed until Sam had a hard time seeing Tamara. It spun and swirled, forming odd shapes, but none coherent. Nothing but dark motes, fragments of black and gray.
As more churned, the necklace within her hand heated, until Sam thought she could stand it no longer. She gritted her teeth and bore the pang of it, knowing, though it might threaten to burn its way through her flesh, she could not let it go. She had to keep hold, had to keep going despite the pain.
The words coming from Tamara changed again, and Sam watched in shock as the spray flying around coalesced into solidity, taking on a human-like form.
That shape, however, was not a man.
Sam's fear drew over her mind as the revenant of her father turned away from the girl to find her, the red glow of his eyes deeper than they ever had been before.
They narrowed as he looked between her own face and the hand clutching the necklace. Once, twice, they flicked as he figured out what was happening.
Then his mouth opened and a horrifying howl burst forth, shattering the silence of the field surrounding the cabin, echoing from the trees. Sam squinted her eyes as grime lifted from the ground and shot toward her, carried on by the impetus of the sound. Her heart stopped beating for a brief moment and her breath caught in her throat as the decay, already strong, intensified.
She gasped as the beats began again, dizzying her. Her vision tunneled until all she could see was the horrid face staring back at her, only a few feet away.
Then he moved.
He rushed forward, head bent down like a charging bull, but he was stopped by the barrier of bone powder. As he hit the invisible wall Tamara created, a bright flash of light exploded outward, blinding her for an instant. A hollow ringing burst into her ears as the shield rebounded back against the impact, pushing the revenant away.
A bit of the fear that had arisen with his appearance faded as she realized the barrier held against his onslaught, but, when he came for her anew, it returned.
Again and again he slammed into the shield, and each time he was pushed away. He slashed at it with his claws, the dark red glow of his eyes deepening as his frustration and anger at being trapped grew. He raged and shrieked again. Each slash and slam, the necklace steamed.
"Do something!" Sam screamed, the torment in her hand intensifying with it. She could not hold on long. It was becoming too much for her to take.
Tears began to spread, egged on by the agony, and the terror of knowing if she were to let go, all of this would be over.
From the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and glanced to see Bart edging himself closer to the circle. He had his gun drawn but did not fire it.
"I can hold it," Tamara screamed above the magnitude of the noise, "but there's still not enough to dispel it!"
The creature stopped moving, breaking off his attack against t
he wall. The hesitation spurred Sam's hope.
It was cut short by the low, grumbling, laugh from the circle.
Her father's revenant raised up his own hands, and, with it, the sound of approaching wings began.
Chapter 35
The din of the bugs approaching was massive.
Sam tore her eyes away from the figure in the center of the circle, his face rendered into a maniacal grin as he raised his arms higher. They fluttered and careened into the clearing as his power increased.
Coming from all over, they surged into the space between the trees, dark wings shifting the mass in different directions, all with one purpose, controlled by the horribly angry and powerful creature trapped within the binding spell.