by Tracy Sharp
"This all happened after her ill-fated magic show in the school auditorium." I put my phone away. "Some kids love a scapegoat."
"That would explain why they call her a freak. They're afraid of what they don't understand," Astrid said.
Strummer popped the last of the pizza crust in his mouth. Within seconds it was down his gullet. "She was likely a little different from them before the fire. She probably had a spark of supernatural talent, some witch blood running through her veins, and instead of wowing and impressing the kids into wanting to be her friend, she scared them, and maybe made them a little jealous."
"She made them nervous," I said. "This is them trying to make sure she knows her place in the social hierarchy. Can't have her thinking she has any power. It could be dangerous."
"Yeah?" Astrid said. "Well, how do you think they like her now?"
"And how do we entice her out of hell?" Fiona held out a hand, palm down, and her ghosts slowly took turns swirling around her hand.
Astrid watched in awe. “Do you feel them?”
“Yeah,” Fiona said. “It feels kind of cool and a little bit ticklish. Here, you try. Hold out your hand like this.”
Astrid copied Fiona, and Fiona moved her hand next to Astrid’s. The ghosts twirled between the two, making a misty figure eight around their outstretched hands.
Astrid giggled. “You’re right. It does kind of tickle. You need to try this, Ez.”
"No thanks. I’m good.” Fiona’s ghosts kind of creeped me out a tiny bit. To Strummer, I said, “How do we make sure November doesn't go back in?"
"We make sure she doesn't go back in by sealing the portal" Strummer said. "We keep evil in hell and we keep her out."
"How do we persuade her to come out?" Fiona asked.
"She wants power. We entice her with power." Strummer grinned. "We tease her with an offer she can't refuse."
"What kind of offer?" Astrid asked him, now holding out both hands and smiling as she watched ghosts go back and forth, twirling around each hand.
Strummer burped against the back of his hand. "She wants to be feared. She wants revenge and she wants to strike terror into everyone’s heart. Right now she can conjure demons, but a good old wand would give her more power. She wouldn't have to rely on demons to do her work for her. She could do it herself with a flick of her wrist."
"You just happen to have a few wands lying around?" I asked him. "They aren't easy things to come by."
"I've acquired a few in my occult escapades." Strummer grinned.
I gaped at him. "You aren't really going to give her a wand, are you? God only knows what kind of damage she'd do with it."
"I will also offer my services as a conjurer. I will train her. So that she can harness the power she has, and not burn down half the state of New York."
"Strummer, I don't think this girl is going to want to play by any rules. I think she's a bit beyond that," I said.
"We will see," Strummer said. He walked to his Harley and opened the leather bag attached to the back of the seat. He came up with a small, twig-like thing, only about six inches long.
"That's a wand? You're kidding me," Astrid said. "What she going to do with that? Pick her nose with it?"
"It's not the size of the wand, but the talent of the user," Strummer said.
I couldn't help chuckling, though I couldn't tell if Strummer even knew that he'd said something funny.
"Wait a minute," I said. "If we can enter hell pretty easily, what's keeping all the demons from coming up here?"
"Demons can't come up here unless they’re summoned or invoked by a spell or some kind of magic, or by an occult item, like the ring Rick dug up,” Strummer said.
"Why hasn't Baal used November to open the gates of hell yet?" Fingers of trepidation played along my spine. The thought was almost too terrible to entertain.
"Maybe she needs magical help,” Strummer said. “She's a fire devil conjurer. They are among the easiest demons to summon. Almost any preschooler can do it if they have even a touch of magic and they string the right words together. But opening the gates of hell, that's a whole other kettle of fish."
"So, the wand might do it?" Astrid asked.
Strummer nodded. "It might. In the right hands and with occult help."
"Baal," Fiona added.
"Baal," Strummer said.
Great. “So, all she needs is the wand. Which you have. And you're going to give it to her. This concerns me. Help me out here."
"I'm not going to give it to her, I'm going to entice her out of hell with it, and then snatch it away. If she agrees to train under my wing, I will eventually allow her a wand of her own."
"You'd better be quick with that snatching part," Astrid said. "Or the whole world is toast."
10
Candace
"Candace, you're acting weird." This was from Candace's partner, Brodie. He looked at her with a frown. "You on something?"
Candace shot him a look. What a dick. "Yeah. I'm on something. Been snorting coke and popping LSD from evidence."
Brodie chuckled. He turned to look back at the house they were watching from down the street. "Just asking. You're not yourself. Something going on?"
Yeah, something was going on. Supernatural monsters were being summoned in her town, and people were swallowed whole or possessed. If she told him that, he'd think she was on something for sure. But even if everything was peachy, she wouldn’t want to share anything about herself with him.
Something about him made her want to keep things strictly professional, with no friendly banter involved. He had a predatory, unsympathetic thing about him that made her nervous. And on top of that, any time she was anything but curt to him, he got overly friendly with her. Sat a little too close. Brushed her leg or her arm. Stared into her eyes with that weird, intense gaze of his. He scared her a little, but she didn’t want to let on. "Just a little tired. Can we focus on the job, please?"
"Sure," Brodie said. "I think a leaf fell from the tree in the front yard, there. Nothing else to report at this time."
"Well, what do you think they're going to do? Bring the drugs out and do business in the front yard?"
"The house is listed as belonging to Annette Patterson, age 65. Not that there aren't older drug dealers around, but I'm guessing the business is being run by her grandson and a few friends of like mind and expertise."
"Where is grandma now?" Candy wondered out loud. "I hope she's not living in that house."
"The latest I've learned about Mr. Skeets is that his grandmother is living with his mother in a duplex she owns in downtown Altwood."
They were currently sitting on a street in Albany that was populated by college students sharing the rent. Most of the houses were huge Victorians that had been chopped up into mini apartments. The home they were watching now was at the end of the street, and though it wasn't a large Victorian, it was a lovely house with what looked like fresh yellow paint and a wraparound porch.
Candace shook her head. "I don't think Mr. Skeets’ mother knows what he's up to. Wasn't he supposed to be at a night class?”
Brodie nodded. He shuffled some pages on his lap and came up with Spencer Skeets’ class schedule. "Yep. Legal Methods with Professor Bonville."
Candace snorted. "He's shouldn't skip that one, he's going to need it."
A dark figure appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and walked toward the house. A tall, thin silhouette stopped in front of the driveway and turned, facing the car Brodie and Candace sat in. The shape waved.
"What the hell?" Brodie opened his door and stepped out.
Candace frowned. Who was that? She squinted at the shape, trying to get a better idea of the person waving. Whoever it was seemed so out of place, kind of like he or she had been super imposed over the scene. And this person wanted Candace and Brodie to know he or she spotted them. Why would they make it so obvious?
As Candace opened her door, she kept her eye on the figure, and the closer Brodie was to it, the strange
r the situation seemed. The hair rose at the nape of her neck and her stomach clenched. "Brodie."
Brodie kept walking. He called back to her. "I'll be back in a second. I'm going to find out who this clown thinks he is."
"Brodie," she called a little louder. Alarm bells were clanging in her head.
But by then he was almost in front of the shape.
Candace felt malevolence ooze from it. She drew her .38 and ran forward. Every instinct told her to run in the other direction, and that this was an unnatural situation. "Brodie!"
He turned, a mere couple of steps from the shape, a question in his eyes. He'd drawn his weapon. She hadn't seen him do that.
She yelled, "Shoot him!"
Brodie turned and she heard him curse under his breath. The dark shape opened its mouth and shrieked, and Brodie shot at it, once, twice, three times.
The thing reached forward and draped itself over Brodie, and then seemed to dissolve into him.
Brodie shook his head, did a strange little shimmy, as if his clothes didn't quite fit right, and then headed toward Candace, his steps awkward, like those of a child first learning to walk. But within a few steps he had it down just fine, and he was walking toward her like a champ.
Candace knew better than to stand there and shoot at him. It hadn’t worked so great for Brodie. She ran to the car and jumped in. But there were no keys in the ignition. Of course there weren’t. Brodie had them in his pocket. She hit the door lock button and heard the locks on all the doors click home.
The thing looked in at her through the window, Brodie's face inches from hers on the other side of the glass. She felt fear pierce her chest, but she glared at the thing Brodie had become.
"Open the door, Candace," he said, his voice flat, emotionless.
"Bite me!"
"I will." Brodie gave her a smile that reminded her of Batman’s Joker.
A fresh jolt of fear shot through her, but something else, too. Rage. She'd had enough of this crap for one day. "Go back where you came from."
Brodie stared at her from the other side of the window. He’d been creepy enough before being taken over by the black shape. Now he was terrifying. Her body trembled. She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. "Leave. Now."
Brodie stuck out his tongue and gave the windshield glass a long, slow lick.
A chill slithered through her. Revulsion gripped her belly. Asking politely wasn't working, and things were going from bad to worse.
The thought ended just before his hand punched through the glass.
Candace scrambled to the other seat while the Brodie thing began climbing through the window. It would've been easier to reach in and unlock the door, but Brodie wasn't quite himself at the moment.
She threw the door open and launched herself out onto the road, and took off running. Brodie was fast, but she was faster.
Candace tried not to think of what nasty new talents Brodie had, courtesy of his new possessed state. She thanked the heavens that she'd been in track all through high school and still ran five miles most days, though her secret supernatural investigation was making it harder to keep the running up.
Her legs pumped and she covered ground quickly, easily putting distance between herself and the Brodie thing.
She needed something more than regular bullets. Silver bullets or something. Candace doubted she’d be able to find some on such short notice. She turned a corner and wound up on Eagle Street; a long street lined on either side with businesses which catered to the many college students that lived in the area. Coffee shops, a few pubs, clothing shops, a computer shop, restaurants. None of these places would help her.
She turned down a side street with fewer, more obscure shops. A carpet store that specialized in Indian designs, a thrift store, a used book store displaying rare books in the window. An overturned garbage can spilled putrid, rotting food onto the road. The stench was overwhelming.
A light flickered on in a storefront on the other side of the street. It wasn't immediately apparent what the shop's specialty was, but something about the well-kept, quaint little structure drew Candace to it.
The name on the sign read Mystics. She ran to the shop and noted the strange symbol on the window. It was a pentacle. Maybe this place would have something she could use.
A girl could dream.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The tinkling of bells sounded above the door.
"There you are," a velvety voice said, from no particular area of the shop.
Candace looked around, trying to pinpoint the location of the voice. She took a few steps into the shop, trying to slow her galloping heart and catch her breath. Adrenaline still flooded her veins.
The place smelled of sandalwood and vanilla, and some other dark and exotic scent. There were all sorts of mystical looking items. Crystals and gems lined one shelf. Jewelry was placed under a glass counter, and hung on various hooks around the store: necklaces, earrings, rings, bracelets, even hair clips, and sunglasses encrusted with small gems and crystals. Silver jewelry with symbols etched into them.
There were tarot cards, crystal balls of various sizes. There were books and CDs, and audiobooks. There were oils and little wooden boxes, and things in velvet bags.
"I've been waiting for you." The voice came from right behind her.
Candace startled and spun around. She hadn't seen the woman approach. But her open, welcoming face immediately put her at ease. She had skin the color of toffee, and warm almond shaped eyes the shade of rich coffee. “Do you always creep up on your customers and scare the hell out of them?”
“Not always. I was waiting for you. Come on, now. We need to get you prepared." She took Candace by the hand.
"O-kay." Candace didn't know what to say. She settled on, "Prepared for what? And how did you know I was coming?"
"I see things." The woman led Candace to a wall at the far end of the store. One portion of the wall, approximately three feet wide and six feet in length, was covered in hooks displaying pendants set with various gems, stones, and metals.
Candace thought the woman would to try to sell her a necklace, but was surprised when she pulled at one of the hooks and a door opened. The wall of pendants was actually a false wall, hiding a room behind it.
"This is clever," Candace said, stepping into the room behind her.
"You need to be clever when you live among demons."
"You can see them, too?" Candace felt a profound relief wash over her.
"Yes, but when you can see them, they can see you. But they more than see you, my friend, don't they? They are after you."
"There's one after me right now. He hijacked my partner." Candace raised her hands. "Look, I'm so grateful for your help, but please, please tell me what is going on. Who are you?"
"I’m Iona.” She lifted a finger to her full lips. “Shhh. Don’t move or make a sound. Lock this door after I leave.”
Candace nodded. She wasn’t one to hide, but she was way out of her element. She had no idea how to fight demons. Apparently, this woman did.
Iona opened the door and went through it, then softly closed it behind her.
Candace wasted no time turning the lock. She stood, her ears perked, listening. Her heart raced, and her hands shook. She’d dealt with strange things in the few years she’d known Ezra, but nothing had ever come after her before.
But then, she’d never visited hell before.
Since her little trip to hell, everything had changed. Now she saw ghosts, and demons were after her. Good times.
Her eye caught on to something white on the floor. The floor was dark polished wood, and white seemed out of place on top of it.
It was a pale powdery line in front of the door. Candace knelt and touched the powder with her finger, then brought her finger to her face. She wasn’t about to smell or taste it. But it looked like salt. She rubbed her finger and thumb together. Yes. It felt like grains of salt.
Her mind flashed back to a horror
movie about voodoo magic and she remembered that salt was used to protect and ward off evil.
She squinted and peered closer. There as a different line in front of the salt. Barely noticeable against the color of the wood, it was a reddish powder. Brick colored.
Brick powder?
She’d ask Iona what it was, if she managed to get out of this alive and in one piece.
If Iona had the salt and brick powder lined inside the hidden door, she must have lined the main entrance and any other entrance-slash-exits there were in the place. The place was probably warded with all kinds of magical protection. Candace hoped.
She strained her ears. Iona was chanting under her breath, quick and urgent. She was speaking in another language. And then Candace recognized it. Iona was chanting in French.
Pounding at the front door made Candace jump. Her heart thudded almost as loudly.
“Go away, back to where you came from, evil thing.” Iona shouted, and then continued chanting, her voice rising.
A snarly growl rose above her chants, and an enormous bang crashed against the door.
Candace straightened, took a breath. This was ridiculous. She was a cop. She wasn’t going to hide in a secret room and let Iona deal with monsters by herself. Especially since she was the one who had led the monster to this place.
Although, it seemed to Candace that Iona had tangled with a few monsters in her time. She knew what to do to try to keep them out. So far, her partner, or what used to be her partner, wasn’t breaking down the door, or smashing through a window.
Don’t jinx it.
A hollow thudding sounded above the chanting.
The thing was now pounding at the huge picture window, looking for a way in.
Enough. She’d already put this woman’s life in danger. She wasn’t going to cower in this room and allow this woman to fight her battles for her. She was about saving lives, not throwing people in front of the bus. Candace reached out and unlocked the door. She pushed it open and slipped through.
Iona’s eyes snapped open and stared at her, shocked. “Get back in. This demon will kill you. It wants to drag you back into hell.”