by Various
"She came from New York to escape the rat race and to learn about magic. She had great power, but misused it. She's now spending eternity in a dark underworld, trapped in a room filled with mirrors where she can view all she's left behind on this earth."
"Is it the same magic you teach, Bernie?" Daria's voice was soft.
"Yes, but you must never abuse my teachings. Never."
The girl blushed.
"And you both must remember that today wasn't an accident. I knew you'd come, Daria and I knew you'd come to me before that, Marcus.
. We three will open doors to new and wonderful worlds."
Later when the sun set over the Atlantic, Marcus walked with Daria on the beach and he kissed her for the first time. A light snow fell and it swirled like a magic cape over the restless ocean.
"Be my Valentine," he whispered.
"I've dreamed of this," she said and kissed him once more.
Each Saturday the three would meet at Bernard's shop. He taught them Astrology, Tarot and about strange magical worlds.
"These are secrets passed down from generation to generation. Those who are chosen to learn these secrets find their teachers when the time is right-just like you've both found me. I've been to other realms and have shared wisdom with the beings who inhabit them. But there's one place I've yet to open the door to. It's the realm of The Angele'. They're dark fairies." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Their magics are among the strongest. We'll work hard so that we can at least bring one of them here to speak with us."
Bernard opened a purple velvet pouch. "I met with a man earlier today. He owed me a favor. He gave me some good mescaline-if you'd like to try it."
Both Marcus and Daria swallowed the pills, anticipating the wonderful and giddy feelings that would follow.
Daria giggled as Bernard drew a chalk circle on the floor and asked them to step inside. "We'll begin by going to the place I'm most familiar with."
He sprinkled a white powder inside the circle and on their shoulders and heads. It began to shimmer within the candlelight.
"I feel so magical," said Daria.
Bernard smiled "You are magical, sweet girl. Now listen." He sprinkled more powder. It turned purple, blue and green. It glowed like sparkling gems. "Lord of the East unseal your gates. Lord of the West lay your golden keys before me. Lord of the North cover us with cloaks of protection. Lord of the South give us the wisdom and courage for all that we encounter."
Soft cat growls filled the air. A gate appeared where a tall bookcase had previously stood. "Come to Talazia, my students."
Marcus and Daria came to know Bernard's alternate world as well as they knew their own.
Before long they also learned that the beings of Talazia often came here to share both magic and mischief. Feline beings transformed into sultry human women when they crossed into our world. And sometimes Bernard would become a black panther, a glorious being with blazing yellow eyes.
Marcus often doubted the things Bernard showed him-the thing he became. Mescaline, LSD and other drugs were abundant and Bernard willingly shared them with Daria and Marcus.
On February 14th of the following year Bernard announced, "We're ready to conjure The Angele'."
He drew the familiar circle, lit red candles and painted their faces with what he called symbols of the Gods. Then he chanted in Latin, calling the elements, asking the wind to open doors to other worlds, for water to wash away the obstacles, for the earth to accept the magic of other worlds and for fire to light the dark tunnels through which all travelers must walk.
Marcus held Daria's hand as wind beat against their faces, lightning streaked across the sky, rain pounded against the windows and the ground quaked.
Smoke filled the room, then slowly dissolved. In the center of their circle sat the dark-eyed being. Dark wings beat. She shrieked, rose up and circled over Bernard. Then she reached down and slashed his face with dagger-like fingernails.
She disappeared.
They tried relentlessly to bring her back, to reach into the world of the Angele'.
A month later blood sacrifices became frequent. Bernard would drive through the city in search of the homeless, prostitutes and others who would climb into a stranger's car for money or the offer of a free meal.
After the killings The Angele' would appear for a moment or two, lick the blood and then quickly fade away. At times he bound and tied together several hookers or homeless drug addicts, cut them and filled a cauldron with their blood, calling The Angele'. It always failed.
"Sex magic is potent. Blood ritual is the ultimate magic. It'll work, we'll perfect it," Bernard would say. "The power one derives from it is unsurpassed." But the sex, or even the blood sacrifices which granted them entry into other realms, failed to satisfy the dark fairies that Bernard thirsted to know.
He never changed, never seemed to age-he said it was magic.
Marcus fell deeper and deeper in love with Daria during those years. In the beginning she told him she belonged to only him, but as time went on and Bernard emphasized that sharing love and sex amongst themselves-and with others- could create rich and dark magic, she became distant, often going off with Bernard alone.
Marcus wanted power and access to all that Bernard offered, but his obsession with Daria was stronger and one day he decided it would be best if he moved on.
"You'll be back, " Bernard said to him after he told him his plans to move South, go back to school and create another life. "Your destiny is here with me."
***
He returned to the odd beach town after another decade had past. How ironic, on the day he drove away from Talbot's Bay, he'd also left behind dead bodies. But those crimes were buried now, with the bones of the people who had died.
He shook his head, wondered if his old friend still killed in the name of magic. If he still visited the strange alternate world, Talazia, where shape-shifters and the black panther were natural phenomena. He once again wondered if all these visions were the results of Bernard's potent drugs. It didn't matter, Bernard offered him sanctuary-safety and some secrets were best left alone.
He wondered if Daria would be there, if she looked the same-still had feelings for him.
***
Marcus entered the dark lobby of Hotel Angele'. Behind the registration desk stood a woman, sleepy eyes, blonde hair tied back in satin bow, strands of silver beads hung around her neck and onto her black velvet dress. She smiled at him, lips turning up in what looked like a scowl. "Do you have reservations?" she said, picking up a thick book, flipping through pages.
"Marcus Sands," he said removing a wad of cash from his pocket. "Bernard Danser has a room reserved for me."
Ignoring the money in his hand, she looked at him, tapped pointed red fingernails on the counter. "Oh, yes, we've been waiting." She snapped her fingers. "Beatrice, take Mr. Sands to his room."
A woman, he hadn't noticed before, floated from the shadows. The tall redhead smiled at him. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she walked towards him. A tight knit dress hugged feminine curves. She smelled of summer flowers. Images of lush gardens and tiny impish faces peering from leaves and vines flashed through his mind. The woman looked at him with jade eyes. "This way...please."
He followed her up three flights of stairs.
"The elevator stopped working months ago," she said nonchalantly.
An annoying inconvenience for the guests, thought Marcus.
"There aren't any guests on this floor," said Beatrice, leading him down a dark corridor. Bizarre paintings lined the walls. They were intricate renderings of fantasy landscapes. Dainty fairies and strange, exotic creatures seemed to move, follow him with their eyes as he passed by.
"The paintings are wonderful. Rebecca Farrell's work," he said, stopping before a large canvas. He was awed by a cluster of tiny creatures with golden wings extended. Their cherub faces looked to the moon, lifelike-fantastic. A larger figure of a woman, with rainbow-colored wings, se
emed to be singing to the others. Two brownish dwarfs sat on the ground beside her.
The redhead moved closer to the painting. "The tiny fae are called Daintelias. They're cute and charming, but quite mischievous. The brownish critters are called Swamp Breeds. They're treacherous and demon-like." She sighed, ran her finger over the wings of the large figure-a replica of the dark-eyed girl who had appeared to him recently. "She is one of the most deadly and the most magical. She of The Angele'."
He frowned. "I know."
"The original owner of this hotel was fascinated with fairy lore. He commissioned Farrell to do the paintings and he named the hotel after his favorite clan of fae."
He nodded. "Bernard and I have discussed The Angele'."
She turned, "There's always more to learn. There are books about the legends in the library on the second floor." She unlocked a door and led him into his room.
Marcus opened French doors leading out to the balcony. He hugged himself, feeling icy February wind. The ocean's waves rose, foamy tips seeming to reach to him like phantom fingers.
Bernard had told him that in the mid-nineteenth century the hotel had attracted celebrities and the rich. Now it had become another mediocre place, lost in the shadows of a high-rise Holiday Inn. Bernard said that ghosts walked the corridors and grounds of The Angele'. Talbot's Bay had its share of strange legends and supernatural tales. Bernard knew how to bring them to life. He had a knack for conjuring devils-often literally.
For the past decade Marcus Sands had dismissed belief in magic and ghosts. He believed in staying alive, eluding the police, his enemies and holding onto the money he'd found in Tom's briefcase. Now once again he felt the lure of Bernard, his secrets and his thirst for ultimate power.
He thought of Daria again, wondered once more if she still lived on the bay and kept in touch with Bernard. At one time he believed he loved her-perhaps he still did.
He took a long drink from his glass, an expensive crystal goblet, cut in odd patterns. Shapes seemed to move within it, a woman's face smiled up at him-Daria. She smiled again, then it floated from the glass and into the garden below.
"Damn meds," he said, setting the glass down. The face looked up at him from a tangle of trees below.
Bernard would be meeting Marcus at seven in the lounge. He looked forward to it. He changed into a clean pair of jeans and a dark short-sleeved knit shirt. He checked his appearance in the mirror, noting that his weight had stayed the same since the last time he'd seen Bernard. However, his hair was shorter and streaked with gray.
Upon entering the hallway, soft music and tinkling laughter drifted towards him. Bernard's voice, thick and rich, boomed above the feminine ones. Red hearts and cupids decorated the walls and plump red roses in silver vases sat on the rich mahogany tables.
Gorgeous women sat in the lobby; smoking, smiling and talking. In the lounge more beauties sat at the bar, drinking beer and wine. Bernard sat in between a lovely brunette and a pretty blonde. He smiled when Marcus approached. Bernard hadn't aged at all. "Liz, let my friend have a seat." The blonde slid off the barstool and smiled wickedly at Marcus.
"Andrea, give my friend a bottle of Jack Daniels." The bartender obliged.
"You old villain, I'm glad you're back on the bay," Bernard said as he lit a cigarette.
"Well, I wish I could be here under more pleasant circumstances." He glanced at the woman by Bernard's side, then leaned closer to his friend. "Thanks for giving me a place to hide out. They'll never trace me here. Nobody back in Jacksonville knows about my past."
"Anything for you." He put his arm around the brunette. "Marcus Sands and I go back a long way."
She seemed to purr as Bernard rubbed her back.
"Listen," Bernard said, moving his hand to the woman's thigh. "I need to settle some things with Linda. May I meet you around midnight in the gardens?"
"Sure," he said glancing around the lounge. "I'm sure I can settle some things of my own for now."
"Good, till later," said Bernard. "Andrea, give him anything else he needs."
Two women, one dark, tanned and petite, another tall, slender and fair, sat on either side of Marcus. He smiled, thinking this would surely turn into a wonderful night. Flashes of what he'd left behind in Jacksonville raced through his mind. He quickly dismissed those thoughts when the women slid closer to him.
It felt good sharing drink and talk with the women.
After the first bottle had emptied, another was set in front of him-then another.
He didn't know how long she had been standing there. Her face glowed and her platinum hair draped across her bare shoulders like a silky cape. A cigarette dangled from pouting lips and shapely legs looked inviting beneath her red mini dress.
"Daria," he said.
She strutted over, eyes blazing. "You look good, Marcus."
Stunned, all he could say was, "Have a drink with me."
She smiled, touched his hand and whispered in his ear. "Let's go up to my room, get away from the rest of them."
He looked into her eyes, saw something feral, a longing. Forgetting the others, he followed her into dark corridors and up winding stairs. She seemed to glide. Phantoms drifted by and miniature beings scurried from cracks in walls.
"A mix of Xanax and booze. I'm seeing weird shit," he said.
She turned, her face a skull, blood trickling from eyes sockets. Her voice was distant, as if it came from another realm and wrapped within layers of dreams. "The Angele' are known for their trickery."
He blinked. Her lovely face stared back at him. There was concern in her eyes.
"What?"
"You need to lie down with me. Love me."
She led him into a room where murals of fairies, dragons and unicorns adorned the walls. She started to undress, moving seductively as strange music filled the room. It seemed as though there were speakers behind the walls. When completely naked she laid beside him and undressed him slowly.
He ran his hands over her breasts and plunged his finger into her wetness. Daria had not changed at all. She wrapped her legs around his back.
The creatures on the wall began to move as she moaned. The painted fairies were engaged in sexual acts, some in groups of three and four. Their faces glowed with rapture. Panic raced through his veins as Daria moved wildly beneath him and screamed as she was satiated. Then she smiled up at him when he climaxed inside her. Multiple sighs and moans escaped from the murals. Then the figures were still and silent.
Daria licked his face like a wild animal. "Next time we'll invite Bernie, have a party like we used to."
Jealousy filled him. He wanted her for himself. She had to be his and only his. She kissed him and snuggled close to his side. Then fairies sang him to sleep.
***
A knock on the door awoke him. He was back in his own room, no traces of Daria anywhere to be found. Rain pummeled against his window.
Another knock echoed through the room-sinister, unwelcome.
"Who the hell is it?"
"It's Bernie," came the familiar voice.
Marcus opened the door. His friend stood there, clothes wet from the rain, damp hair clinging to his head. "Heard you had quite a night," said Bernard, absently removing a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.
"Yeah, that Daria is still something else."
"Yes, she is." He tucked the cigarette in his mouth, lit it quickly. "You must have passed out, never kept our meeting in the garden."
Jealousy raced through him. But he tried to remain cool. "Damn, I'm sorry."
"No harm done. Get dressed and we'll go there now."
***
The rain became heavier as the two men made their way into the gardens. They walked through overgrown bushes, beneath limp tree branches, and brushed by intricate stone sculptures.
"I want to show you something and share some secrets I've uncovered in your absence."
Bernard led Marcus down a winding path. Trees loomed like deformed creatures and the
ir branches swayed like skeletal fingers. Through tangled limbs and twisted vines stood a chapel.
They made their way to the crumbling structure. "Years ago, when organized religion was more popular, the guests liked to come here to pray. Light a candle." Bernard ran his hands over the splintered doors and gazed at stained glass windows, broken by age and weather. "Now the chapel lies hidden here, just as the faith of modern times often does."
Marcus studied faces within the stained glass. The Angele'.
"Now what was once hidden within the bowels of the church has come to the surface." He pushed open the doors. Upon an altar, where black candles flickered, sat three beautiful women-all with coal-black eyes. Their seats were made of thick branches, studded with knife-like thorns, dripping with crimson. Oversized roses towered above them. Tortured faces peered from within their centers.
"The blood of sacrifice...and those who have given their souls to The Angele'." Bernard waved his hand.
Daria's voice sounded behind them, soft, eerie. "They've made a pact with us," she whispered.
"I'm finally allowed access. "Bernard stroked Daria's face. "But there's a price-there's always a price." He pulled Daria close to him. "The Angele' wanted more than homeless bums and those from the underbelly of society. They want prime flesh and blood."
Marcus smiled, slow, wicked. "You son-of-bitch. You've managed to do it-found what we were after all those years ago."
"Yes, and it's no coincidence that you've come back now." He smiled down at Daria. "This is just one of the worlds I've managed to tap into. There are others-all waiting for us. And there's power beyond our wildest dreams."
The Angele' rose and disrobed. An altar ascended from the floor. Upon it laid a young girl. Her hands and wrists were tied. Her eyes were wild with fear.
The Angele' danced around the altar, touching the girl, kissing her tenderly and making love to her-and to each other-with fingers and tongues. When they were satiated they beckoned Bernard to the altar and handed him a knife.
The girl shivered when he slit her wrists. Then he cut her throat. He filled a chalice with her blood and offered it to the Marcus and Daria. They drank as The Angele' moved toward them, smiling and with lust burning in their eyes.