The Price of Brimstone

by Allie Gail

“Can you understand what it says?” Index Capitum. Obviously it's the table of contents, but what those contents are I couldn't begin to guess.

  “I can translate enough to get the gist of it.” Scanning down the list, he jabs a finger at the chapter title next to XIII. “Ah, here we go. Jackpot!” He gingerly flips through the brittle pages until he gets to the thirteenth chapter.

  Pulling out the chair beside him, I sit quietly and try to be patient while he reads. Every once in a while he frowns thoughtfully, and it takes all I can do not to shout, well, what does it SAY?

  “Hm,” he finally murmurs.

  “Hm, what?” The suspense is killing me.

  “This...might be doable.” Biting his lip, he studies the page intently. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “If we can get everything we need.”

  “I can help,” I offer. “What do you need?”

  He rubs the wheat-colored stubble peppering his jaw as he mulls it over. “Some of it I can probably pick up in the morning after I get off work.”

  “You'll be too tired,” I object. “I'll do it. Just tell me what to get.”

  “You wouldn't mind?”

  “Of course not. What else am I doing? It would be stupid for you to have to do it when I'll just be hanging around here all day anyway.”

  His grateful smile warms me. “That would be awesome, Jude. Thanks. Um...okay, first of all, we're going to need a white lily. I'm sure if you check with the florist, they'll have some.”

  “Okay, that's easy enough. Just one?”

  “You know what, go ahead and get six. Just to make sure we have enough.”

  I nod. “Anything else?”

  “We'll need foxglove and clove. You can get whole cloves at the grocery store, I'm pretty sure.”

  “Yes. Not sure about the other one, though. Isn't foxglove a plant? I thought it was poisonous.”

  “Only if you eat it. So don't eat it.” He pokes me in the side playfully, and I have to clamp my mouth shut to keep from giggling. “My advice would be to try one of the nurseries. If you can even just get some bulbs, that should work. If you can't find any, it's no big deal, I'm sure I can order online and have some overnighted.”

  “All right. What else?”

  “I don't suppose you happen to have any jewelry with pearls in it?”

  “I have a pearl bracelet.”

  “Are they genuine? Fake ones won't work. They have to be actual pearls.”

  “No, they're real. The box said it came from Friedman's Jewelers. I got it for my birthday one year.”

  “Perfect. I'll need to borrow it.”

  “No problem.”

  “Oh, and could you also pick up a candle? Just a plain white one.”

  “I have a candle in my room that's white. It's coconut scented. Does that matter?”

  “It has to be one that's never been lit before. Not in a jar or anything, just a pillar candle.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “If you can get that stuff for me, I'd appreciate it.” Reaching into one of the side pockets of his cargo pants, he retrieves a wallet and hands me a card from inside.

  “What's this?”

  “My debit card. Just use it as credit and you won't need the pin number.”

  I try to hand it back. “I don't need this. I have money.”

  “You're doing enough just by picking this stuff up for me, Jude. You're not paying for it, too.”

  It's not like that small list will amount to much, but whatever. Finding it pointless to argue, I tuck the card into the waistband of my yoga pants. I'll put it in my purse later.

  “Do you think this will actually work?” I can't imagine how this strange cocktail of ingredients is going to have any effect on Locryn. But then, I never would've believed that a simple drawing of a sigil would immobilize him either. Anything's possible, I guess.

  “Let's hope so.” Digging through the candy bowl on the table, Max selects a miniature Butterfinger and unwraps it. “Trick or treat,” he adds wryly before crunching a bite.

  “Sucks you have to work tonight.”

  “Yep. Story of my life. So what are your plans for this evening?”

  I glance up at the rooster clock. It's almost four-thirty, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow to run my errands. By the time I made it into town, pretty much everything would be closed anyway.

  Plucking a cherry Twizzlers from the bowl, I tell him, “You're looking at it. I'm going to rot my teeth and my brain. With mountains of sugar and loads of gratuitous movie violence.”

  “Yeah?” Licking his fingers, he grins. “For a minute there, I thought you were gonna say gratuitous sex.”

  “Wrong holiday. I usually save the gratuitous sex for Valentine's Day. Otherwise it just gets awkward.” I smile to show that I'm joking.

  “February fourteenth, huh? I'll have to make a note of that on my calendar.”

  I nibble on the licorice, eyeing him speculatively. Is he flirting with me? I think so, but I don't want to assume too much. It's the first time he's ever said anything to me that could be construed that way so I'm not sure how to react.

  I'm debating whether or not to fire back with are you applying for the position? But before I can make up my mind, the loud slamming of the front door decides for me.

  “Yoohoo! Bert and Ernie! Make that Ernestina. Where you bitches at?” Russ comes strolling in, twirling his car keys around one finger. Grinning broadly at us, his eyes light on the bowl of candy. “Oh, hell yeah! Score. You better not have eaten all the good stuff already.”

  “You're home early,” Max observes.

  “Yeah...Phil closed shop a little early so he could take his kid trick-or-treating.” He tosses the keys on the counter and they slide into a row of cereal boxes, knocking them over like dominoes. “You ever see that little goober? He won't need a mask. Looks just like his mom. Woof!”

  I scowl at him. “Don't be a pig, Russell.”

  “What? Kid's eyes are so crossed, I can never tell whether he's lookin' at me or something down the street. Wonky-eyed fucker freaks me out.” Grinning, Russ unwraps a Reese's cup and stuffs the whole thing in his mouth.

  “I've seen your baby pictures,” Max reminds him. “You're one to talk.”

  “What're you talkin' about? I was a cute kid.”

  “You were a dead ringer for Gollum. They could've used you as a stand-in when they were filming Lord of the Rings.”

  “Eat shit, Quasimodo! At least when I was born, the doctor didn't try and shove my ugly little ass back in.” Suddenly noticing the open book on the table, Russell's expression turns more serious. “Oh, man. It came?”

  “Just a little while ago.”

  “And? Is it in there?”

  “It's in here.”

  “Oh, hell yeah...”

  Leaving the two stooges to their moldy old book, I head upstairs to take a quick shower. I have a long night ahead of me. Even though he has to work tomorrow, Russ will probably want to stay up half the night watching scary movies, which means I won't be able to make my nightly sojourn into the basement until very late.

  Is it wrong to admit that I'm actually kind of looking forward to it?

  Singing along to Thriller, I towel-dry my hair and slather my body with scented lotion. Then I slip into a pair of black leggings, boots and an orange cable knit sweater and go in search of the boys. I find them in the living room with half-eaten bowls of soup, still poring over their volume of the macabre. Max is translating a passage out loud, the tip of his index finger following the words across the page.

  “...young woman of virtue, being used to aid in suppressing the evil, more dominant side of the creature.”

  Russ looks up at me. “Hey, who's that girl you used to hang out with? The one with the buck teeth and orange hair. What was her name? You know who I'm talkin' about – she used to come over here sometimes. I used to call her Tic Tac 'cause she didn't have any tits.”

  “Patricia?”

 
; “Yeah. Patricia. That's the one.”

  “Her hair was strawberry blonde,” I inform him staunchly. “Not orange.”

  “Whatever. Looked orange to me. Hey, I bet she's still a cherry, right?”

  My mouth falls open. Russ doesn't even seem to notice my reaction – he just keeps yammering away tactlessly.

  “She's gotta be. No way there's a guy that desperate!”

  “Don't be a dink, man.” Max gives him a disgusted look.

  “I'm just sayin'! We might could convince her to donate to the cause. Tell her it's for...I dunno, little homeless anemic kids or some shit.”

  “What? Are you even serious right now? Who in their right mind would be dumb enough to fall for that?”

  “Well, you come up with something then! It can't be that hard. People donate to the Red Cross all the time.”

  “Neither of us work for the Red Cross!”

  “So we fake it!”

  “How do you fake working for the Red Cross?”

  “How hard could it be? Just make a phony badge or something. You already know how to draw blood, it shouldn't be-”

  “A-hem.” I cough loudly and very conspicuously. “What's going on? Am I missing something here?”

  “Slight snag,” Russ tells me distractedly. “We need virgin blood.”

  Virgin blood?

  I press a hand over my mouth to stifle an astonished laugh. This is too much! It's turning into a cheesy B-movie plot. I mean, how much more absurd can it get? What's next – do we dress the virgin in white and throw her into a volcano? Build a giant wicker man and set it on fire, maybe?

  “You're joking! How much blood?”

  They both keep arguing as if they don't even hear me.

  “You're the paramedic. Can't you get your hands on some?”

  “Are you high? First of all, would you like to explain how the hell I'm supposed to tell the difference? It's not like it's marked on the bag with the type! Even if I did stoop low enough to walk off with some plasma, what do you think the odds are of it being donated by a virgin?”

  “There's got to be a way. Can't you just take a blood sample from some homely chick or something?”

  “Uh...guys?” This is getting silly.

  “Oh, sure! That'll go over well. I'm sure my partner will turn a blind eye to me drawing unnecessary blood samples from random girls.”

  “Don't you know any? What about your cousin Laverne? She's kind of a brown bagger, wouldn't you say?”

  “Dude! What the hell?!”

  “Yo! Guys!”

  They both turn to look at me.

  “Hello...” Raising both arms over my head, I point downward. “Genuine authentic virgin blood right here.”

  And now, so help me God, they are both staring at me as if I just grew a third boob.

  “What?” I say defensively.

  There is an awkward pause as the two exchange befuddled looks.

  “What?” I repeat, growing irritated. What is their problem? I'm offering up a solution here, and they're both looking at me as if they think I'm a big fat liar.

  “Uh...nothing,” Max finally says. “It's just...”

  “Just what?”

  “You? You're a...ah, you're telling me you've never...”

  “Don't stand there and act like you don't know the definition of the word.” I prop my hands on my hips, daring him with a glare.

  “What about Tyce Bradshaw?”

  “Tyce Bradshaw? What about him?”

  “I thought...well, he said...um...”

  I narrow my eyes. “He said what?”

  Max looks decidedly uncomfortable. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “No, I want to know! What did he say?”

  “Forget it. It's not important.”

  “Max! What did Tyce Bradshaw say about me?”

  He winces. “Uh...that time you went to the county fair together? He said you guys made it in the hall of mirrors. Standing up. Doggie style.”

  Oh, good Lord. “And you believed him?”

  “I don't know. Maybe. He was very...explicit with his details.”

  “He said that?” Russ bows up like a rooster, clenching his one good fist. “Where is that piece of shit? I'll kick his ass straight up into his throat!”

  I slap my palm against my forehead. “For fuck's sake, Russ! Do you need anger management or what? That was like, four years ago! Tyce moved to Arkansas.”

  “Hey! There's no statute of limitations on talking smack about my baby sister.”

  “Oh, get over yourself.” God, men are stupid.

  “Seriously, though? Twenty years old and you never...”

  “No, moron! I'm not sure you're aware of this, but not everyone humps everything that walks by. Some people like to save themselves for the right person, you know?”

  “Yeah, but you share the same genes as me!”

  “Don't remind me.” I glance over at Max, fully aware that he's still staring at me as if he's never seen me before. “So. Will I do?”

  He clears his throat and turns his attention back to the book in his lap. I don't know if he's reading or just trying to avoid looking at me. He seems flustered, but I'm not sure why. Is it because I called him out for believing that bullshit story about me?

  Hall of mirrors, my ass. It was more like one kiss after winning me a goldfish with a ping pong ball. The goldfish went belly up three days later. It still lasted longer than Tyce, who quickly decided that Lydia Beechum was more of a sure bet than I was. Gotta give the guy credit for one thing, though. He had quite the colorful imagination.

  Creep.

  “Yes,” Max finally replies. “You should do just fine.”

  “Well, all right then!” Now that he's gotten past the questionable shock of my abstinence, Russ is pumped and raring to go. “So we're gonna do this thing! Hell, yeah! It's about time! Fuck you, you demon motherfucker, we got you now!”

  I smile back, glad to see my brother so excited, even if part of me dreads the crushing disappointment he'll feel if this ritual doesn't work the way it's supposed to.

  And I can't help but shiver slightly as Loc's warning resonates through my mind.

  Don't do this, Judith.

  Don't do this.

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Chapter Twelve

  “Happy Halloween.”

  Eyeing the bottle of Wild Turkey I just plunked on the table, Loc raises a wary brow. I've surprised him, which I must admit is a gratifying feeling.

  “What's this?”

  “Just to show you I can be a good sport,” I tell him cheerfully. Popping out the cork, I pour two shots before sliding one of the glasses his way. “Incidentally, I Googled 1926 Macallan. You can't tell me you actually drink that stuff. It runs seventy-five thousand dollars a bottle! Who can afford that?”

  He merely shrugs, smiling.

  “Well, obviously I can't, so it was either this or vodka. Hope I made the right choice. Welcome to how the lower class lives, moneybags.” Raising my glass in a mock toast, I add, “Cheers!” before tossing back the contents and trying not to cough. It doesn't taste too terrible, but it burns all the way down. I've never had straight bourbon before. It's definitely not the same as a nice frosty piña colada.

  Watching me with overt amusement, Loc polishes off his own drink and then pushes the empty shot glass towards me. I hook a finger in it and pull it out of his reach. Not sure what he could do with it, but I'm not giving him the opportunity to demonstrate.

  “It's no Macallan, but it'll do in a pinch. Much obliged, my dear.”

  “No sweat.” I settle back and stretch out my legs, crossing them at the ankles. “So. What's new?”

  He laughs softly, and I try not to notice what a seductive sound it is. “Very little, I'm afraid. If there were, you might have cause for concern.”

  “Good point. But I don't know...I think soon, you may be the one who has cause for concern.”

  “I take it you found what you were looking for in tha
t book of yours.”

  I'd bet the bank that he already knows precisely what we found. “Maybe.”

  “And you're still going through with it?” One corner of his mouth crooks up in a smirk. “My, my. I would've thought the virgin blood would present a bit of an obstacle. Is that not the case, then?”

  Determined not to let him ruffle my feathers, I respond only with a shrug. What's the point of answering, anyway? He already knows. I don't know how he does, but he does.

  “Hard to believe.” Leaning forward, he studies me with an intensity that's unnerving. “A young lady as beautiful as yourself, as charming and charismatic and intelligent, and yet with her innocence still intact. Now you know, that is a mystery to me. I have little doubt the boys were drawn to you like bees to honey, so one does stop to wonder – what was it that made you decide to keep that sweet, sweet honey all to yourself?”

  If I had an answer for that, it would be stuck in my throat right now. I'm finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

  “I would suggest the possibility that you might be frigid, but we both know that's not the case.” The nefarious smile stretches wider. “Or could it be you've been saving yourself for a certain paragon of virtue? The dashing blonde paramedic with the stormy eyes and the brass knuckles...”

  “How is my sexual status any of your business?” I snap. Even if I wanted to explain, which I don't, it would be too difficult to put into words.

  What am I supposed to say? Sex is a deeply intimate step, and I never found anyone I felt that comfortable with. Or maybe I'm too picky. I always wanted my first time to be special, momentous...magical, even. Something I'd never have cause to regret. It's just that no one ever seemed to measure up to those standards.

  Well, maybe one person did. But he never gave me a second look.

  “Forgive me. I've overstepped my bounds.” Incredibly, Loc has the grace to appear chagrined. “I'm afraid sometimes I have a tendency to do that. I'm too outspoken. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

  Is he being sincere right now? Doubtful. I have to hand it to him though, he's very accomplished at faking it.

  “Let's just say we have everything we need, including the blood, and leave it at that.”

  “I see. Well. Forewarned is forearmed, I suppose.” He nods his head toward the bottle. “Could I talk you into another, perhaps?”