by Unknown
I looked past her and saw my father standing there with a proud smile beaming on his face.
“I don’t think I can. I’m so tired.” My eyes were drooping and my limbs were beginning to chill.
“You have to fight it, Maya. You have to get up. Just listen to my voice, baby girl. Get up. You’re stronger than you think you are. You can fight this.” Her tone was pleading, but firm.
My father advanced and knelt on the other side of me. He didn’t say a word, but he lay a hand on my shoulder. A warm sensation spread from where his hand was, reinvigorating me. Things began to hurt less and less. I made an attempt to get up and swiveled to where my father had just been kneeling, but he was gone. My mother, still laying in front of me, gave me a warm smile.
“Get up, my sweet girl. Keep fighting. Only your magic can save them all.”
In a beat, she was gone as well, but the air still smelled of her freesia perfume that she used to wear. The bleeding had stopped, and she was right, I needed to try again and keep moving. Angie was depending on me.
Forcing my magic back up, I shoved it outwards and into the lock mechanism. I needed to do this quickly before I couldn’t take the pain anymore. It struck swiftly, leaving me breathless and sweat covered, but the metal within the cuffs moved about to my will. It was like I had shoved the key into them and turned. One by one the teeth of the lock popped until the one cuff clicked open. I pulled it off and let it fall to the floor. I turned my focus to the other cuff. That one moved much faster. If I didn’t move swiftly, I would soon lose consciousness. My beaten body ached and my blood ran freely from my nose. With the final click, I threw the shackle to the floor and dragged myself away from them like they would re-lock themselves if I was within their reach.
I took a brief moment to collect myself, grateful that the misery was gone. The door was the only way in or out of there and it was latched shut. I could either wait for someone to come and try to overtake them or I could maneuver the door open and take my captors by surprise. Easy decision, I chose the latter.
“Piece of cake, right? Just focus on the lock. Come on, Maya. You got this,” I whispered to myself.
The pep talk was at least minimally helpful. I took a deep breath and braced my hands on the doorway, ready to get the fuck out of that tiny hell hole and find Angie. The deadbolt proved to be much larger than I’d anticipated. It was a heavy latching bar that was slid into place and not the lone thumb sized lock that I was expecting. My battered body was shaking, ready for me to give up, but I couldn’t. I pushed on.
The door started to get hot beneath my hands. I couldn’t understand why the bar wouldn’t move to release me. I pushed harder. The door began to smoke, charring from the magic but I felt no pain and smelled no burning flesh, just the unique scent of molten metal and burning wood. It wasn’t working. I dropped my hands from the door and slapped the stone slab next to the frame. There were charred handprints marking the door where I’d been pressing, but my own hands held no signs of burns, aside from several smudges of soot.
“God damn it!” I screamed at myself, angry that things weren’t going the way I’d hoped. I needed a new plan, but what could I do? As I sat there pondering a way out, there was a loud crack and the door swung open slightly. I stared at it bewildered for a moment before scrambling up and over to it.
The bar that had been holding the door shut was melted and laying in two pieces on the floor. I poked my head out. No one was there and it didn’t sound like anyone had fled down the hall. Well, that wasn’t what I had planned on, but I guess it did the job.
Stepping over the fallen lock, I started down the hallway. My room was at the end of a corridor with only one way out. Following the twists and turns of the narrow tunnel, always vigilant and searching for any signs that someone was on to my absence or that someone was heading my way. The hallways were slowly becoming more modern as I made my way towards my unknown destination.
I flew down the halls and took the turns as they randomly came. After the fifth turn, a single staircase offered an escape. Trying to conceal the sound of my footfalls on the rough steps, I made each step carefully and surely. I pulled the phone from my boot and powered it on.
No service.
Odds were, I was still too far underground to have a signal. Making a call was out of the question, but maybe I could get just enough of a signal to get a text out. I tapped away on the screen and let Rhys know what was going on. I pressed send and watched the indicator go in circles while it considered sending the message. Could he trace my location if he got the message? The bright backlit screen of my phone told me it was a quarter to midnight. Time was running out fast. I jammed the useless device back into my boot.
My magic still zinged under my skin, ready for anything. The stairs turned heading in a different direction and became much more modern, no longer the stone I had become accustomed to in the deeper depths of wherever it was that they’d taken me to. It was elegant. Fluorescent lighting brightened the space considerably. The top of the stairway was visible and sported another wooden door. I was beginning to worry that something was wrong. I hadn’t come across another person on my travels thus far and Drake had said he was coming right back. None of the rooms that I’d passed had any sign of use, and no trace of Angie. She had to be there if they were broadcasting her over the PA system.
I held my breath and turned the metal knob. It was unlocked, so I gave it a solid shove. I stepped through into the grandiose and lavish cavern that is the St. Louis Cathedral. The shining, gold-lit sculpture of Christ hung to my right at the front of the hall. I crossed the distance and made my way towards the steps and empty aisle. My boots clicked lightly, echoing around the hall, as I stepped onto the polished black and white marble floor. It was unusual indeed. The old church was empty. Scanning the pews, I saw no one, not even the parish priest or an altar boy. It was usually so full of church patrons and tourists that seeing it so empty was eerie. Looking up at the stained glass, I could see that night had fallen since my abduction. Was the business Drake had to take care of, the ritual?
I made my way warily down the aisle, wondering where Drake had run to. We needed to end this game of cat and mouse tonight. Drake had to be getting ready. The sacrifice had to be made at precisely midnight.
Pushing on the large front double doors of the cathedral, I was bounced back a bit. They were locked.
“Leaving us so soon?”
I spun in time to see Drake crossing the altar and descending the few steps leisurely. My skin was hot with the power gathering beneath it. I wasn’t about to let him win, not without one hell of a fight. Two large men came through the door opposite of the one I’d come through, side by side. The larger of the two was a blonde haired zombie, by the blank look on his face, who had probably been a very handsome man before all of this began. The shorter one was by no means small. He had a sneer plastered on his face, making him seem perpetually disgusted that was only enhanced by his shiny, bald head. It was nearly impossible to see because the two men were so burly and large, but they carried someone between them.
It was Angie. She was almost unrecognizable for all the contusions and bruising that marred her delicate face. I stepped forward, wanting to remove their filthy hands from her but halted as I saw Drake’s dark army arrive. Bacalou crept like smoke in through crevices beneath the doors and through the windows like they weren’t there. Their numbers were staggering. I didn’t advance, thinking they would see me as a threat and swarm. That was exactly what I didn’t want them to think.
To them, I was just a meek, young woman who posed little threat at the moment because I was untrained and hadn’t come into my full strength yet. That would be my advantage.
“Please, just let her go,” I begged.
The cruel smile that decorated his face only grew. “Now, cher, where would be the fun in that? I’m sure this will be something she will be dying to see!”
I bit the inside of my cheek, repulsed by term of endearm
ent and holding myself back from shooting off my mouth; it could get someone killed. Drake walked down the aisle towards me. He had a regal air about him, like a king walking before his subjects.
Movement on the balcony above caught my eye. I glanced up to see Rhys and Arlen’s head poking over the balcony railings briefly before disappearing again. They were there. I just needed to bide my time until they could get Angie and get out.
Drake came to a stop about ten feet in front of me. With a small flick of his wrist, the Bacalou swarmed, grabbing at me and leaving tiny cuts where their talons grazed skin. Their icy, damp skin- if you could really call it that- wrapped around my arms and lifted me clear off the ground. I couldn’t see much of what was going on. The Bacalou had somehow grown more solid, or at least more than just shadows. They had substance to them, making it impossible to see what was going on outside of the hoard that was pulling me along towards their destination.
They lay me down on the altar at the front of the church and bound my hands and feet, stretching me long ways and ensuring that I wouldn’t be able to struggle enough to get the coarse rope around my wrists off. One of the men placed a small table down next to me, while the other walked about the hall lighting the tall pillar candles that I’d missed when attempting my escape. I was maneuvering my head as far as I was able, trying to locate where Angie was. It proved to be pretty difficult from the position I was in. I spotted Angie sitting in the front pew, leaning heavily against the side of the bench. She looked horrible. Mottled bruising covered most areas of her exposed skin. I didn’t think she could fully support herself enough to sit up or stand. Come on, Rhys! Arlen! Get her out of here, I continually shouted in my mind and made a concerted effort not to peek at her anymore and draw attention to her.
A phone’s alarm blared. It echoed off the empty walls of the cathedral.
“Well, I guess we best get things underway.”
Drake walked up to the altar next to me and set out a black bundle. Once it was untied and the flaps all opened, Drake held up each of the instruments, every single, shiny, razor sharp, gruesome instrument. Settling on a long dagger, he thumbed the edge of it and moved closer. Trying as hard as I could to stop it, I couldn’t contain the shudder that rocked through me. My hands shook, making it infinitely more difficult to attempt an escape by working the ropes over. The Bacalou moved back into the shadows, waiting.
“What you did to that door was mighty impressive. Too bad, though. Such a waste…” he trailed off, caught up in his preparations and maniacal musings.
It was sickly ironic. I’d spent the better part of my adult life shunning any notion of a higher power only to be laid out on an altar and on the verge of being sacrificed to the Loas in a blood ritual.
A grey streak caught my attention, drawing my eyes to where Angie was left unnoticed. Arlen nodded to me before moving towards Angie. I saw his jaw tick, body tense, and he hesitated, but it only lasted a second. Before I knew it, Arlen was lifting her from the bench and back up to the balcony in the blink of an eye, carrying my best friend like she weighed no more than a small child. I kept my eyes averted while he slipped out of the building with Angie in tow. I didn’t want to give them away. At least, I knew he would make sure she was safe and well cared for.
Rhys leapt from the balcony and landed silently in the back corner of the old church. He made his way slowly towards the front. These guys could put Spec Ops to shame with their stealth.
“First things first. Bring me the girl,” Drake said, keeping his eyes on me, as he said it.
The sandy haired zombie left Drake’s side to fetch Angie, but only made it a few steps before he froze.
“Hey! Where’d she go?” The bald headed lug of a zombie had noticed Angie’s absence.
Drake slammed the dagger down into the wooden altar just a couple inches from my face.
“Find her! Now!” he screamed, adding, “Come back empty handed and it’ll be your ass.”
Drake’s face was turning pink with the flush of anger. He turned away from me and went back about making his preparations. A large bowl was laid on the table next to the altar. Drake added a black powder to the bowl and held a lighter to it. Acrid smoke began to rise from the bowl, choking me with its oily vapors. He left it there to burn and disappeared in the opposite direction his two dummies had taken, likely to search for Angie. The Bacalou were nowhere to be seen. Even the shadows within the cathedral were empty. That, for whatever reason, seemed like a very bad omen.
Rhys popped up next to my head. I had to stifle a scream. Within a second, he had the ropes around my wrists cut and was working on my feet. I scooted to the edge of the table and slid down.
“Take this. You’re going to need it,” Rhys whispered, pressing a kiss to my temple and placing a tiny knife in my hand before disappearing behind the pillars of the right wing. Sliding the blade into my belt, I started in search of Drake, conjuring up the concentrated magic orbs in the palms of my hands. Knowing that I had to be ready at any moment because he would be back very, very soon. The clock was ticking on his ritual.
I didn’t make it very far. Drake came strolling back in the door he had left through, thoroughly pissed off. Whatever it was he was holding hit the floor when he saw me. His eyes widened in realization.
I didn’t hesitate. I threw one orb at him, then another. I kept throwing, hoping to land at least one. All hell broke loose in that moment. The Bacalou came screeching back into the hall. They scattered in every direction and left no way out. I saw Rhys’s magic start flying and turning Bacalou to ash all around him.
Drake was easily deflecting the blows like they were nothing more than a nuisance. We circled each other, sparks flying back and forth, neither of us making any real progress. His black orbs colliding with my bright white ones. It showed the stark difference between us, our magic, and our characters.
It was too late by the time I saw the last black orb flying towards me. I couldn’t move to the safety of the pillar in time. The orb hit my shoulder and burned through everything like acid. I grunted through the pain and scrambled up behind the pillar. Afraid to stick my head around the edge, I just stuck my hand out instead and threw a mass of white hot energy towards where he stood. Nothing. I didn’t hear it connect with anything or hear any kind of movement.
I spoke too soon, just then a stick smacked the wall in front of me and then another next to it. Slowly elongating, changing colors and shapes, the sticks became snakes. Very, very big snakes, black King Cobra’s to be exact.
The pair coiled next to each other, ready to strike out at me at any second. I froze, fearing that even the slightest of movements would set them off on a deadly rampage. The sticks were not normal sticks, they were fear sticks. They would morph into someone’s greatest fear, so there I was, cornered by a pair of highly venomous snakes in front of me and a maniac behind me.
Drake seized that moment of distraction and slid around the pillar, kicked the snakes out of his way, grabbed me by the throat and dragged me back towards the front of the church, towards the altar. He picked me up with inhuman strength and slammed me down on the hard surface. My head hit the wood hard enough to make me see stars.
Rhys was too caught up in his own battle to help me. The Bacalou had him surrounded and bleeding from more cuts than I could count. I was on my own.
Drake had picked up the item he’d dropped when I’d attacked and placed it into the flames rising from the bowl. It was just a brief second but I got a good glimpse of it before he left it to the flames. It was a human heart, bright red and blood soaked. It was the heart of the twelfth sacrifice.
Twisting my head around towards the door Drake had disappeared through, I saw it. The big, blond man’s leg was preventing the door from closing the entire way. He had become the twelfth sacrifice in his failure to accomplish his mission.
I kicked and clawed at his hand, trying to break free of his hold, but he didn’t budge. It was hard to breathe. I tried to maim any part of hi
m that was within my reach, however my attempts were fruitless. He pulled the dagger from his back pocket.
The bells above us in the bell tower began to ring loud and clear. It was midnight. Drake began to chant in fluid Creole, the language of the Loas. Struggling and growing weaker by the second, I reached into the back of my belt, feeling for the blade Rhys had given me. Just above the back pocket, I felt the smooth hilt of the knife and slid it from its hiding spot. Drake was too busy chanting to see what was coming as he began to bring down his own dagger towards my heart.
My arm swung down with the force and speed of a hellcat and I sunk the blade deep into the junction between Drake’s neck and shoulder. His hold on me dropped and he fell to his knees. He clumsily braced his forearm against the floor and yanked the blade out with a yelp. He threw the knife to the floor and eyed me with cold hatred
I wasn’t the type of person to kick a man while he was down, but, well, fuck him. I shot the biggest burst of magic I could muster at him and knocked him flat on the ground. He was staring at the ceiling, barely breathing. He was done for, but the Bacalou were in a frenzy and Rhys was losing. I fought my way to him and left a trail of ash behind me. I like to think I was like a wildfire burning everything in my path with deadly accuracy. I could still hear the bells as they came to the end of their nightly serenade. As soon as I joined him, Rhys perked up a bit. We fought back to back, and a second after I arrived to help Rhys, a glowing stick cut through the black mass surrounding us. Arlen was there.
The three of us disposed of dozens of Bacalou. The church was completely coated with ash and soot. My magic was soaring high, yet there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. The Bacalou’s numbers were almost endless. I felt unstoppable. My magic was a drug and I was hooked.
The Bacalou were the perfect distraction. Drake wasn’t as done as I’d thought. His scorching black magic hit me square in the back, knocking me out of the Bacalou hoard to land painfully on my charred back.