Dark Redemption

by Angie Sandro

  Sophia blocks my path, and I flinch away from the hand she raises to stop me. “Running around like a chicken with its head cut off is no way to help her.”

  “I can’t just stand here with my thumb up my ass.” I swing around her, but her hand lands on my shoulder, sending a wash of revulsion through my body. I shudder, flashing back to her lying on top of me in the graveyard. My stomach clenches.

  Sophia’s head tilts to the side, and her eyes slit, as if she’s listening to inaudible voices. And maybe that’s the case. The ancestral spirits in the clearing seem agitated. Their energy glows brighter as the silver balls swirl through the air.

  “Gaston,” she calls. “Are you able to pinpoint where Mala’s being held captive?”

  “The ground is warded.” He shakes his head like a dog coming out of the water. His eyes are cloudy when they focus on me, as if he is still searching the other realm for clues. His hand rises to stop my words, and my mouth closes. “It’s not Mala’s physical body that’s in danger, but her spirit.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  Gaston blinks quickly. “She slipped her skin and traveled to the other side.”

  Oh, shit! I press my hand to my chest, feeling the rapid thumps of my heart beneath my palm. I breathe out the pent-up breath I’ve been holding. “Yeah, she’s addicted to the whole astral projection thing. She got a kick out of spying on me in the shower while I was in jail. She even saw Dena when Red was holding her prisoner. Why is this time different? And how can anything hurt her in spirit form?”

  “I don’t know,” Gaston’s says. “I’m blocked from going to her. It’s like she stepped behind a brick wall, and I can’t break through it. But she’s screaming, Landry. Screaming…”

  Not helping, Gaston.

  “Show me,” Sophia says, holding her hand out to Gaston, and I jump. I’d forgotten that she and Ferdinand, two of the most powerful practitioners of magic, stand before me. If anyone can figure out how to break a black-magic circle, it’s Scary and Scarier.

  Gaston stares at Sophia’s hand like it’s covered in dog shit. The corner of his lip curls. I glance at Sophia and catch a flicker of pain in her eyes, but it’s gone so fast I want to punch myself for believing the wicked witch is capable of experiencing emotion. She wiggles her fingers, beckoning him forward as if he’s a child.

  Gaston’s shoulders straighten, and the corners of his mouth dip in resignation. When their fingertips touch, sparks fly. His hand passes through hers. In a few more steps, he fades inside of her.

  Sophia shivers as she takes the spirit into her own body. A slight ripple of light races across her skin. She remains silent for what feels like an eternity, but when she finally speaks, her voice sounds like a merger between herself and Gaston, rumbling from deep within her chest. “Okay, the circle’s strong. It was erected by someone twisted but talented. It’s meant to trap spirits inside.”

  “It can be broken?” Ferdinand asks in his quiet, yet authoritative voice.

  “Perhaps if we use the spell of unbinding and combine our energy. Landry would have to be the one to make contact.”

  Ferdinand nods. “Ah, because of his blood tie to her?”

  “Out of all of us here, he’s the only one living who is linked to her by blood.”

  My head’s spinning, like that girl from the old Exorcist movie, and my stomach churns with nausea. Any minute I’m going to start hurling green vomit. Just once, I wish I understood what the hell was going on. Especially since it involves me. “What does that mean?”

  “The child Mala carries is a legacy from you both. Its blood links you together, allowing you to travel across the plane to find them.” Sophia holds out her hand. I take it without pausing to consider the consequences. She’s either telling the truth or lying. I’ll know soon enough. And there isn’t time to waste on debate. Not if what Gaston said is true.

  “I’m also blood to Mala. I want to help too,” Carl says, coming over.

  I’m already shaking my head before he gets out the final word, but Sophia takes his hand and draws him forward. “Ah yes, I forgot about you. Good, this should make the link stronger.” Her lips pucker. “I should warn you both. This will be very painful.”

  Huh? A flash of agony rips through me. Dimly, I hear Carl screaming in the background, but the sound is mostly drowned out by my own yell. My back arches, and I drop. My head slams onto the ground, and I roll onto my side, cradling my knees to my chest in a fetal position. I fight to remain conscious.

  “Let yourself go!” Sophia yells.

  Fuck no! The battle within my mind rages. The second I lowered my guard the snake woke. I sense it beneath the surface, crawling upward by tiny increments. With each slither, a chill crawls up my spine. If it breaks free, it’ll take over my body. God only knows what kind of damage it will do to these people. Why didn’t I think of this before agreeing to Sophia’s plan?

  My head throbs, pulsing with the creature’s awareness. It probes my memories with reckless abandon, like it’s scrolling through television channels and scanning the contents of the show before moving on. “Stop fighting.” The words float before my eye, dripping with bloodred ink. What the hell? “Mala needs your help.”

  My hands squeeze the sides of my head, trying to keep my skull from splitting open from the pressure. Pain throbs up my neck. The roof of my mouth and nose tingle with each pulse. “You don’t have a choice. Let go.”

  It’s right. Mala…the baby. They need me. Desperation claws at my insides, shredding my resistance, but I can’t just let go. The demon snake is stronger than before. I sense the difference. I don’t think I’ll come back if I hide again. But I need it to cooperate and maybe it needs me. For the first time, I confront the creature head-on rather than running and hiding.

  “Help me!”

  Blackness washes across my vision, but in the darkness, a sliver of light shines. Metaphysical eyes open in my head and stare back at me in cold assessment. Windows into my soul slam shut. I can feel Sophia and Gaston pounding on the walls of my brain, trying to reenter my mind, but the snake wants this conversation to remain between the two of us. And I agree. Whatever it wants, I’ve got to decide whether I’m willing to give it. Whether it’s worth it to save Mala.

  A feather-like sensation brushes across my mind. The roof of my mouth tickles. Ah, I think it’s laughing at me. Way to make this an even more uncomfortable experience.

  “Name your terms,” I think.

  “Let me free.”

  I wince at the response. “Can’t do that.”

  “Not even to save the one you love?” Its chuckle vibrates inside my skull. “Why ask if you’re going to deny me?”

  “I thought you’d come up with a plan that we can both agree on.” Anger makes my thoughts jagged. “Don’t be so greedy.”

  It laughs again.

  I’m wasting time. It can drag this negotiation out for days. This doesn’t matter to it. Mala’s the one who’s going to get hurt. Already hurting.

  “Fine, I’ll let you free.” I regret the necessity of the promise and narrow the terms of my service as much as I can. “But only when I’m awake. You don’t sneak out and run crazy while I’m asleep. We share this body. If I say no, then we come to a compromise. And no killing.”

  “Why are you trying to block all my fun?”

  “No killing. Unless I agree.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And no more eating raw meat. If I get salmonella poisoning, this body’s dead. Then what are you gonna do?”

  “Regret runs on two legs.”

  “Whatever.”

  I let go of the barrier compartmentalizing him in a detached section of my brain. Its awareness spreads, seeping into the spaces I kept safe from its intrusion. Now we fuse together. No longer separate, but one entity. My soul erupts from my mouth on an exhale. I’m moving forward so fast that everything around me blurs. I only slow down when I get to Mala’s body. George has her cradled in his arms. A clo
ser look shows me the faint rise of her chest. He stares into the distance with glazed eyes, more bored than worried. Whatever is happening to her hasn’t affected her body…yet.

  A hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn to see Gaston. “Don’t move another inch!”

  I freeze. “What’s going on?”

  “The black-magic circle begins here. One more step and you would’ve crossed the same boundary as Mala. You would’ve been trapped.”

  “How did you get here? I thought you couldn’t find her?”

  “You brought us here,” Sophia says. She glows in this realm, as beautiful and terrifying as ever. Darkness smudges her aura. The spirits of Mala’s ancestors begin to appear, one after the other, until the clearing is full. George shivers, feeling the cold spots surrounding him. He squeezes Mala tighter against his chest, and I want to rip her from his arms. How did he get her into this mess?

  “Where are we?”

  “A place of sacrifice,” Gaston says. “Immense power has soaked into the land and built up over the centuries due to the deaths that occurred here. With each death, the tie to the land of the dead grows stronger. The person who drafted this spell increased its potency by adding in the sacrifice of innocents. The young and particularly vulnerable bring strong magic.”

  “How do we get Mala out of here?”

  Sophia answers this time. “I can’t break the circle. But we can tie a metaphysical rope around you. You go in and grab Mala. Then we’ll pull you both out, hopefully before the rope breaks and traps you inside.”

  “The hopefully part doesn’t inspire confidence.”

  “I’m winging this particular spell. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. And as you know, I’m older than I look.” Her eyes close as she begins to chant. Her words dance on the breeze. Power winds around my body.

  “It’s ready. Go forth,” Sophia says.

  Gaston holds up his fist, and I give him a fist bump. For some reason, the act lessens my anxiety. I step forward. The air parts around my body. I focus on Mala’s scent, her laugh, the feel of her body when it’s connected to mine. I think about the life growing inside her. I whoosh forward again. This time I’m prepared for the whirlwind sensation, and I grit my teeth.

  I stagger on the landing, arms outstretched to catch my fall. A dark miasma crawls in through my nose when I inhale, and my gut twists from the foulness. It’s hard to breathe. Which strikes me as strange, since I’m not in my physical body. I cough, trying to clear my lungs, and scan the area for Mala. I’m on an island in the middle of a pond of green goop. Nasty.

  A choked sob comes from above. The branches stretch in all directions from the trunk of the biggest, ugliest tree I’ve ever seen. I swallow hard, mouth dry, and blink a few times. The image doesn’t go away. Nothing in my wildest nightmares prepared me for seeing decaying corpses, covered in tiny, blue-winged butterflies, tied to the blood-seeping tree above me. This is nuts.

  “Ah, at last. The reason for my existence.” A sense of satisfaction follows those words, and I remember that the demon observes from my eyes. It doesn’t elaborate on this statement, and I don’t ask. Bad enough I feel its pleasure. Does it enjoy this type of death? Did these sacrifices draw it here? I don’t want to know or care about the answers because, right now, they don’t matter. Finding Mala and getting us off the island in one piece does.

  I turn in a circle. “Mala?” I yell, listening for a response. Her spirit drew me here. She has to be around somewhere. The island isn’t that large. Only holding the tree. Another sob comes from the branch to the left of the trunk. Vines encircle the body, but I see a sprig of brown curls. Once I know what I’m looking at, I see the curve of Mala’s cheek, her bold nose, and her bloodstained lips. Her eyes are sealed. Butterflies blanket her exposed flesh in a silent horde. Folds of bark and lichen grow over her skin. Sores weep blood. It’s like she’s an insect in the maw of a Venus flytrap, slowly being consumed.

  “Mala,” I scream. “I’m here. Mala!”

  She doesn’t stir. I can’t even detect the rise and fall of her chest. Is she breathing? Does she need to breathe in spirit form? Again with the useless questions. I’ve got to get her down. The problem is that the trunk stretches a full twenty or so feet before the lowest branch. There is no way for me to climb up to her.

  “Spirits don’t need to climb. Float.”

  Demon’s right. Again. God, I hate being dependent on a smug parasite.

  “How?” I ask. “Think happy thoughts like in Peter Pan? I don’t have any pixie dust to sprinkle over my head.”

  “Will yourself to her.”

  I knew that. I’m just panicking. It’s the same principle as how I found her. I close my eye and focus on light thoughts. A game Clarice and I played as kids floats through my memory. “Light as a feather, stiff as a board.”

  A sense of weightlessness lifts me from the ground. I stretch my arms overhead as I rise to her. A crack of thunder booms and lightning flashes in the sky. Wind lashes out and smacks my body. I yell, spinning in a circle and flapping my arms like I’ve got feathers. Which I don’t. I’m nothing but an untethered spirit at the island’s mercy. And it senses my presence like a living creature would.

  Vines whip out, snapping their tips at my face. Thorns cut into my flesh. I use my upraised arm to shield my eye. I’ve only got one that works. Can’t lose it or we’re screwed. Even with all this opposition, I don’t stop struggling to reach Mala. The vines wrap around my legs and arms, but whenever they touch my skin, the ends sizzle and blacken.

  “Are you’re doing that?” I ask the thing inside. It chuckles, but doesn’t answer.

  When I reach Mala, I grab the vines and start yanking them off her. Smoke rises as they burn beneath my touch. Her eyes open, and she screams, bucking upward. Tiny blue-winged bodies burst into flames like candle wicks and float to the earth as dust.

  The rest of the vines disintegrate, and Mala drops into my arms.

  I cradle her against my chest, breathing hard. Cries fall from her lips, and she fights to get free. The blankness in her eyes show she’s not fully aware of where she is or who I am. It reminds me of the panic attack that took her at Acker’s farm. She attacked without knowing I held her. I hate the helpless feeling of not being able to rescue her from her own mind. Hopefully when she returns to her body, she’ll be back to normal. Or at least as normal as she can get.

  “Sophia, Gaston, I’ve got her,” I yell, sending the thought from my mind to theirs. I hope. There’s lots of hoping and not enough knowing going on.

  A slight tug jerks my head back. My arms tighten around Mala. Then I’m snapped away from the island. I inhale, rearing backward. My head slams into a rock. Bright lights fill my vision, and I sit up, rubbing my head.

  “Are you okay?” Carl cries, crawling over to sit beside me. “Did you get my dimwit cousin? Did you? Say something before I punch ya.”

  “Shut up, Carl.” I rub my eye, trying to get the goopy film off my eyeball, then blink up at Sophia and Ferdinand. “Did I? Is she back in her body?”

  “She’s back. Gaston stayed behind. He’ll let us know what’s going on.”

  “Good,” I say, then let blackness wash over me.

  Chapter 7

  Mala

  Two-Tongued Snake

  I can’t breathe. My lungs tickle, like legs are crawling inside my chest. The sensation builds, tightening and squeezing, until it erupts. I roll onto my hands and knees, coughing. A hand pounds on my back. A blob of phlegm breaks free, leaving a coppery tang on my tongue as I spit it out. The clot of blood and mucus lands in the mud between my hands. It shimmers, wriggling like gelatin from the death throes of the iridescent thread-like larvae.

  Worms. I pull back with a choked cry. Inside me.

  The scream rips from my chest, searing agony through my damaged lungs.

  A shadow looms overhead, and I strike at it. Hands pin me.

  I’m trapped. Infested.

  The arms pull me
against a wide chest. “Calm down. It’s me.”

  The yell penetrates my panic, and I glance up. Landry? No. George stares down at me with shimmering, jewel-like eyes of gold-flecked emerald. So pretty. I force my gaze away before I get lost in them and search the ground for the bloody stain. Nothing. It’s gone. Like it never existed. A hallucination.

  George’s dark copper hair is soaked from the raindrops leaking from the sky like tears. Water drips into my eyes, and I squeeze them shut, trying to remember why I’m on the muddy ground. Memories slide through my mind in sluggish pieces. Fingers…a hand, but no body. George and I drove to Old Lick together to talk to a murdered boy’s spirit. He protected my body while I went to find…What did I see?

  Darkness. Blood and suffering. Pain.

  I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t scream. A full-bodied shiver rips through me as the memory returns of being trapped in a tangle of vines. George hugs me against his warm chest. I’m safe. My fingernails dig into George’s shoulders. Then why can’t I stop shaking?

  George winces and pries my fingers free. “Holy hell, Mala! Your hands feel like ice.” He cups my hands in his, raises them to his lips, and blows warm air across them. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  My mind feels fuzzy. Drained. “I found the kids.” Lightning crackles overhead, and a thunderous boom sends us cringing together. Smoke rises, and flames light up the sky in the distance. I point in the direction the screams are coming from. “Over there…the boys’ bodies.” My voice chokes on a sob. “After he murdered them, he cut them into pieces and tied them to the tree.”

  His eyes widen when he follows the direction where my finger points. The uppermost branches of a tree is engulfed in flames. The tree.