Lisa nodded. Robin looked down on Patrick’s body, swallowed through the ache in her throat. “We need you, cowboy.”
In the long, shadowed space of the lounge, Cain gritted his teeth against the throbbing in his shoulder and bent to light candles at each of the five points of the chalk pentagram on the floor.
The Qlippah watched from Martin’s body, its head lolling grotesquely against the chair back. “Don’t forget the fairy dust,” it gibbered. “You have to sprinkle it on me and knock your heels together three times.”
Cain stood, fought a wave of dizziness at the pain. He breathed in shallowly, slid his left hand into the front pocket of his jeans for his lighter, stepped to the fireplace to light the candles on the mantel.
The Qlippah watched greedily with Martin’s eyes. “You know you don’t believe this bullshit. Can’t do kike rituals if you don’t believe. Better men have tried.”
Cain ignored the leering thing. He stooped to one of the duffels, pulled out the printout of the ritual they’d lifted off the Web. The title at the top read, “The Greater Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram.”
The Qlippah looked straight into the fire. The flames suddenly leapt up, blazing, showering sparks into the room. Cain jumped back from the burning pinpoints.
The Qlippah smiled loftily with Martin’s mouth. “Are you a priest now? A rabbi? You, who believe in nothing! Son of a syphilitic whore, and not just in a manner of speaking…”
Cain stiffened, his hands clenching.
A smile twisted across Martin’s face. The Qlippah’s voice became cunning, crafty. “Want to know who your father is?” it crooned. “I can tell you. It’s not pretty, but at long last you would know.”
Cain turned on it. “Shut up,” he whispered. In his hand was a switchblade. He snicked it open. The blade gleamed silver in the firelight.
Martin’s face rippled and dimpled, as if snakes were moving under the skin. The Qlippah’s whisper was sibilant, inhuman. “You’ll fail. You’ll fail because you come from dirt. You come from scum. You are not worthy.”
Cain’s face was drained of color. The hand holding the knife dropped to his side.
Something thudded on the main stairway.
Cain came back to himself, spun toward the sound, brandishing the knife.
There was another thud, another, and then a soft dragging, coming toward the doorway of the lounge.
Robin and Lisa appeared in the doorway, pulling Patrick’s body between them on the polished floor, panting at the strain of the dead weight.
For a moment, an animal rage played across Martin’s face, then the Qlippah bared its teeth in a hideous grin.
“Ah. Company. Daddy’s best boy.”
Cain stepped forward to help the girls drag Patrick’s body to the table. The three of them stooped and, straining, lifted the corpse into a chair Cain had placed on one of the points of the chalk pentagram, across from Martin’s splayed form.
The corpse slumped heavily in the chair. Lisa wrapped her arms around Patrick’s torso and held him up from behind. Robin wound rope around him, tying him up into a sitting position, trying not to think too hard about what she was doing. She glanced at Lisa, saw her face was deathly pale but determined.
Across from them, the Qlippah squirmed and jeered in Martin’s body, the ropes chafing flesh. “Clever children. Extraordinary children. But doesn’t it say in your little do-it-yourself manual? It doesn’t count if he’s D E A D !”
The Qlippah bellowed the last word, an earsplitting shout. All the windows rattled, as if some huge force were shaking the Hall.
Robin recoiled. Beside her, Lisa sucked in her breath, eyes wide with terror. The rattling continued all around them, deafening.
Then it abruptly stopped. Nothing but the sound of their own tortured breathing.
The Qlippah grinned around at them ferally, tongue lolling from Martin’s mouth. “It doesn’t count if he’s dead,” it crooned again.
Cain stared down at it grimly. “It doesn’t say that. It says we all need to be here.” He looked at Robin and Lisa, flanking Patrick’s lifeless body. “We’re all here.”
He picked up the printout of the ritual, then hesitated, glancing at Robin, a stark, uncertain look. She met his eyes, mouthed Yes.
With an almost graceful formality, Robin, Cain, and Lisa all took their places at the points of the pentagram Cain had drawn—the Qlippah squirming in its chair on the fourth point, Patrick’s body tied to the chair on the fifth.
Robin stared down at the chalked pentagram, and despite her apprehension, she felt a rush of something like excitement. There was a palpable energy about the ancient symbol—a sense of power and infinity. It worked for someone, all those years ago. Maybe it can work for us.
Cain looked down at the printout they had made of the Key of Solomon.
“First we mix our blood.”
Robin and Lisa blanched as he lifted the knife and cut his palm, then stepped forward and let the blood spill into the bowl he had placed in the pentagram on the center of the table.
“Why don’t we all hump instead?” The Martin-thing suggested, pumping its hips upward spastically. “That’ll bond us.”
This is what evil is, Robin realized. So close to human, but a perversion of all that is human. I understand now.
Cain passed the knife to Robin. The blade gleamed. She clenched the knife in one hand and
sliced into her palm. The sharp pain was almost surprising. She thought briefly, After all this, I wonder if I’ll ever feel again.
She held her palm over the bowl, felt her pulse throb in the wound. The blood flowed black into the metal bowl, mixing with Cain’s.
Robin looked to Lisa, unsure of how she’d handle it, but Lisa didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward and slashed her palm grimly, looking down at Martin with eyes like ice.
Then Cain took the knife from her and cut into Patrick’s stiffening palm, squeezed the dead flesh together to force blood into the bowl.
When he turned to Martin, the Qlippah started to thrash in the chair, ranting. “Nooo… stay away, scum….” Its voice turned to a deep, mindless bellow, like the lowing of an ox.
Cain grabbed one of the hands bound tightly to Martin’s chest and cut into it. Robin stepped quickly beside him to catch the dripping blood in the bowl.
The Qlippah’s bellows turned to crooning. “Ahhh…lovely…deeper…cutme….”
Cain turned with the bowl of blood and placed it on the table, then stepped back to stand at his point of the pentagram. Robin and Lisa moved into their points.
Cain lifted the book and read in a strong, clear voice.
“We come together in the name of the Unknowable Unknown to banish this unclean thing from the body of our friend Martin Seltzer.”
The candles flickered on the mantel as if on an altar. With fingers pressed together, Cain touched his forehead, the center of his chest, his right shoulder, and then his left shoulder as he recited from the book, his eyes intense as a priest’s:
“Ateh…Malkuth…ve Geburah…ve Gedulah…”
The Qlippah spat at them, writhing in its chair. “This little Jewish ritual didn’t help poor little Zachary and his poor little friends, though, did it?”
Robin and Lisa looked into each other’s eyes and followed Cain’s hand motions on their own bodies, speaking over the Qlippah in concert with Cain.
“Ateh…Malkuth…ve Geburah…ve Gedulah…”
The Qlippah convulsed in Martin’s body, screaming over them in a rage.
“They burned. They screamed as they burned .…”
Cain looked straight at the squirming creature, clasped his hand on his chest, speaking over it.
“Le-Olahm, Amen.”
Robin was struck by the power in his voice, even as she and Lisa clasped their hands on their chests, repeating firmly, “Le-Olahm, Amen.”
The rappings started again, a wave of knocking in the ceiling and walls. The chair underneath Martin rattled in tandem,
bucking on the floor.
Lisa backed off her point of the pentagram, staring around at the walls, her eyes wide and glazed. The walls bulged with the pounding.
The Qlippah giggled horribly. “You’re next, Lisa. I’m coming for you. Coming all over you—”
Cain shouted, “Lisa!”
Lisa whirled to face them, unseeing. “No…” She bolted toward the arched door of the lounge. Robin lunged and grabbed her arms. Lisa struggled against her in sheer terror. “It can’t—we can’t—it can’t work.”
Robin shouted in Lisa’s face, her voice rising above the rappings, above the laughter. “Lisa. Think. None of this is possible at all, but it’s happening.” For a moment, Lisa’s eyes seemed to register.
Martin’s eyes grew crafty, the Qlippah shining through them, rippling on his face. “You’re going to die to save this pathetic Shell? He betrayed you. He knew what I am, and he used you to call me—”
Lisa flinched, looked toward Martin’s heaving body. He flung his words at Lisa. “He used you, and Cowboy died for it.”
Robin spoke fiercely, her voice raw. “Don’t listen. It lies.” She dug her fingers into Lisa’s arms. “We have to believe it. We have to do it. For Patrick. For Martin.”
Behind them, the Qlippah bellowed. “LISAAAA…”
Lisa twisted out of Robin’s grasp with a guttural cry, but she faced the Qlippah, eyes blazing. “Fuck you.” She stalked back to her point of the pentagram. Robin followed and the three of them took the same breath.
Cain stepped forward to the table, dipped his fingers in the bowl of blood.
He turned to the east and traced a pentagram in the air in front of him. Then he extended his hands in front of him, palms outward, clenched his hands, and pulled them suddenly open, as if pulling aside a set of curtains. He called out fiercely, “We open the portal of fire!”
Fire jumped in the hearth, blazing upward with a roar. Robin and Lisa gasped. All around the room, the candles flared up. Even the light in the Coleman lantern leapt, beating against the glass.
Martin started to spit and writhe in the chair, bellowing inhumanly. Lightning cracked in the sky outside, lighting up the corners of the blankets covering the windows.
Cain and Lisa stood still, stupefied. Robin stared around her at the rush of light, the live fire.
She realized Cain was looking at her, waiting for her to continue. She forced herself to unfreeze, to move. She stepped forward to dip her fingers into the bowl of blood.
She turned to the south, traced a pentagram in the air, and called out clearly, “We open the portal of air!”
She extended her hands in front of her, clasped them, and pulled them apart, as if ripping aside a set of curtains.
A wind rushed through the room, a roar in her ears…as if a huge door had opened to the elements. Robin had to brace her feet on the floor and lean forward against the wind. She saw Cain and Lisa doing the same. She was dizzy, almost deaf from the howling.
It’s working, she thought in wild disbelief. We’re doing something…
Martin twisted, convulsing, moaning in pain.
Cain called out over the howling of the wind. “Lisa!”
Lisa struggled forward through the wind, dipped her fingers in the bowl of blood, and turned to the west. She was shaking as she traced the pentagram, but her voice was strong.
“We open the portal of water!”
She extended her hands in front of her and pulled them apart.
Outside, thunder boomed, shaking the sky. Rain started to fall in a torrent, driving into the ground. The rapping started again, intensifying. The Qlippah bucked in its chair, howling with the wind.
Robin felt herself start to go numb with the unreality of it, her mind almost pleasantly detaching from the bizarreness around her. From far away, she caught a glimpse of Lisa’s face, white as a sheet but abstracted, puzzled….
It’s shock, she thought, We’re all going into shock.
Robin forced her mind back into consciousness, shouted, “Lisa! You guys!”
Lisa looked at her, startled, focusing.
Cain jolted back to awareness, shot Robin an admiring look. “Come on!” He stepped behind Patrick’s chair, and the two girls joined him. They turned Patrick’s chair around to the north, and all three dipped their fingers into the bowl of blood. They all put one hand on Patrick’s shoulder and used their other hand to trace the pentagram in the air. Simultaneously, they shouted to the air, “We open the portal of earth!”
All three made the gesture of pulling curtains open.
Beneath them, the ground started to shake, rumbling as if in an earthquake.
Lisa gasped, stumbled. Robin fought for her own balance, grabbed Lisa’s arm to steady her. The Qlippah shrieked with laughter.
Cain shouted at them through the chaos, “Help me. Get him around.”
He grabbed the back of Patrick’s chair with his good arm. The girls leapt forward and the three of them strained to turn Patrick back to the table. The earth rolled and shook beneath them.
Cain pulled back and shouted, “Back to your points!” They all stumbled to their places on the pentagram and faced Martin, teetering for balance on the shaking floor. Cain picked up the bowl of blood and hurled the contents at Martin, splashing him with blood. The Qlippah screamed with rage.
Through the wind and rumbling, the three of them started to chant. “We banish you with fire. We banish you with air. We banish you with water. We banish you with earth.”
The Qlippah shouted over them. “You can’t get rid of me. I came from you, Robin. You called me and I came.”
Robin flinched, but she kept chanting with Lisa and Cain, eyes locked on Martin in the firelight.
“We banish you with fire. We banish you with air. We banish you with water. We banish you with earth.”
Martin’s gaze burned into Robin, the Qlippah shining through them, rippling on his face. “You can’t get rid of me, because I’m you. Your envy. Your fury. Your hatred.”
Robin faltered, looked into Martin’s bottomless eyes. The Qlippah smiled.
“You hated her. You wanted her dead. I made her dead. I am you.”
Robin cried out in anguish.
And at that hesitation, all three were suddenly blown backward by some immense force. Robin felt her breath knocked out of her. She was lifted and hurled; there was a crash and blinding pain.
The three of them slammed into the wall and slid to the floor.
Robin lay against the baseboard, bright lights swirling in her head, her skull throbbing from the blow. Beside her, Lisa was holding her arm, staring down at it. It dangled at a sickening angle.
Martin started to laugh wildly, the hideous insect voice of the Qlippah. The rapping raced through the ceiling. The walls bulged out sickeningly, like flesh; the ceiling cracked. White flakes were falling; Robin stared at the powdery dusting on her arm, mesmerized. It’s snowing, she thought in vague disbelief. The roof must have…split open….
Cain pushed himself up to sitting and grabbed Robin’s arm, twisted her around to face him. “It’s not working,” he shouted over the chaos. “We have to bail.”
Outside, thunder boomed, shaking the building. The Hall groaned as if the entire structure was coming loose from its foundation. Something like rocks began to thud on the floor around them.
In a daze, Robin looked up and realized the ceiling was raining down in flakes and chunks around them.
Robin turned and stared across the pentagram at Martin, who was still tied to the chair. His bloody face was twisted with glee, the Qlippah rioting across his features. The spirit writhed inside his body, laughing at them through the chaos of elements. It shrieked at her. “I am you. I am you. I am you.”
Robin screamed out, “No.”
Cain staggered to his feet and lunged for the fire ax on the floor. He jerked it up, drew back his arm to swing the blade at Martin’s head.
Robin leaped to her feet and seized Cain’s arm, fingerna
ils digging into his flesh. “No. Wait—”
Cain looked at her frenzied face and fell back. She advanced on the Qlippah, her voice raw.
“You lie. I have friends. I have love. I have life.”
Light.
Her mind flew through what she knew. The Qlippoth had broken because they could not hold the light. They couldn’t hold life.
Light.
Love.
Life.
She stared at the hideous thing in the chair. Martin was alive in there. If they could reach his being, fill him, love him…
She grabbed Cain’s hand. “The Qlippoth shattered because they couldn’t hold the light. They can’t bear light.” Cain looked back at her, questioning. Robin faced the Qlippah, braced herself against the wind ripping around them, and spoke aloud.
“Martin, I know you’re in there.”
The Qlippah cackled. “Martin’s dead! Cowboy’s dead! You’re all going to die!”
Robin took another step forward against the wind, forced herself to stare into the mad, demonic face. “I know you’re in there, Martin. Come back to us. We’re here for you…We’re here.”
Cain was suddenly beside her, looking at Martin’s face intently. “Come out, Martin. Come back.”
Robin spoke with him. “You’re not alone, Martin. You have us. We’re here. We love you. Come to us. Come back.”
Lisa pushed herself to her knees, wincing as she stood. She stepped beside Cain and Robin, holding her useless arm, and called against the wind.
“Please come back, Martin....”
Without realizing, without meaning to, the three of them spoke it at once.
“Martin.”
And for a fleeting second, Martin’s own face flickered through the mad visage of the Qlippah. His eyes, desperately unhappy, stared up into theirs.
Robin jolted, then called to him urgently. “Martin. It’s in your body, Martin. It’s your body. Send it out.”
Cain took up the call, overlapping her, “Send it out, Martin.”
Lisa’s eyes blazed and she ground out, “Send it the fuck out.”
All three of them shouted, “Send it out!”
The Hall shook to its foundations. In the chair in front of them, Martin spasmed, choking, flesh and mind rebelling against the cruel invasive spirit. And then Martin’s features emerged from the horrible slack formlessness of the Qlippah’s face. His own eyes met Robin’s in desperate appeal, and unfathomable courage, and Martin gasped out in his own voice, “Leave…me….”
The Harrowing Page 20