by Leo Romero
I unfolded the paper and read what was scrawled on there. I rolled my eyes. Quelle surprise. I scrunched up the paper and got my light magic going. The heat burned the scrap of paper into nothing. I opened up my hand, ashes falling to the floor. “Thanks,” I said to Erasmus.
Erasmus gave me a stern nod and turned his attention to Zane. “And you,” Erasmus said, pointing at Zane.
Zane gulped.
“I cannot let lie what you have done here tonight. You have brought shame unto the Black Scepter and so I have no choice but to revoke your membership.”
Zane gasped.
“Now hand over your member’s card.”
Zane shook his head. “But, master. I-I—”
“There are no buts, Zane. It is a heavy offense to bring an angel into our midst. I mean, an angel from the Angel Guild? What on earth were you thinking, boy?”
“He needed my help. Our help. There are gargoyles plaguing the city. The Angel Guild couldn’t fight them alone. Our enemy’s enemy is our friend.”
“Who says the gargoyles are our enemy? Have they attacked us? No, so we only have their word.”
“Which is the word of truth!” said Zane. “I’ve seen the gargoyles with my own eyes. They’re real and a danger.”
“Not to the Black Scepter. You could have caused a bloodbath tonight, which makes you a greater threat to us than any gargoyle. I have no choice but to terminate your membership with immediate effect. Please do not come here again.”
“I-I-I...” Zane stammered before his head dropped in dejection. With his head still bowed, he pulled out his card.
“Thank you,” Erasmus said as he snatched it and tore it in half.
Zane watched him do it with dejected eyes. I didn’t like it; I was actually starting to feel sorry for the little prick. His eyes watered up and I shook my head. Crying over spilled milk.
Erasmus turned his attention to Dusty. “You. You must be reprimanded for revealing the identity and location of Nigella.”
“I’m sorry, master. I only did it because I...thought it would make Aurora happy,” he said with his head bowed.
I rolled my eyes.
“Pathetic worm!” Erasmus sneered down at him. “You’re lucky Nigella has accepted an audience with the angel or your head would probably be propped on a spike.”
“I’m sorry, master,” Dusty said in a pitiful voice.
“You are hereby suspended.”
Dusty’s wide-eyed face snapped up. “For how long?”
“I haven’t yet decided. Now, all of you. Leave.”
“Suits me,” I said. “Come on, let’s go.”
I turned to leave, when Erasmus said, “Fallen angel.”
I stopped and faced the ceiling. “Yeah?”
“Do not return here. If you do, you will not leave.”
“I had a feeling you were going to say that.” Man, soon there’d be nowhere left in Chicago where I was welcome. I set off again, storming out of there, Zane, Dusty, and Aurora following up. When we got back outside, I got my light magic going again to light the way. In the process, I lit up Zane’s miserable face.
“What’s up with you?” I asked him.
“Are you deaf? I’m banned from the Black Scepter.”
“Good riddance. You’re better off without them. The dark arts are bad news. It’ll send you batshit in the end.”
“But what am I going to do now?”
“You’ve got skills, kid. I told you before. Use them for something good.”
Zane grumbled to himself. Dusty was looking glum too. “What’s wrong with you?” I groaned.
“I’m banned, you idiot!” he sneered, thumping the air ahead of him.
“You’ll get over it. Jeez, you two lucked out being thrown out of there.”
They gave one another unsure glances.
“Trust Yoda and Obi Wan,” I said. “The dark side’s no good for your health. It’ll drive you nuts, twist your soul. Stay in the light if you know what’s good for you.”
They glanced at one another again. Both their shoulders collapsed in defeat. They knew I was right.
“Anyway, fatherly pep talk is over. Dusty, go home and rethink your life. Zane, go and get your car started. We’ve got ourselves a crazy necromancer to visit.”
Chapter 15
Dusty trudged off home and we headed up to Graceland Cemetery. I got out of Zane’s car and sneaked up to the wrought iron fencing surrounding the grounds. I took a quick look around to make sure no one was looking then hoisted myself up and over the railings and into the cemetery grounds. I felt like a creep breaking into a cemetery in the middle of the night, but that was what I’d been reduced to. I got my palms lit up and held them out in front of me. More tombstones and half-naked trees greeted me. At least these graves were well-kept.
“Come on, coast is clear,” I said over my shoulder. A couple of seconds later, Aurora and Zane were climbing over the railings to join me.
“Follow me,” I said, and set off.
“Ooh, I can’t wait to meet her,” Zane said, rubbing his hands in glee, his eyes full of giddy wonder. “I’m nervous as hell!”
“You really are deluded, Zane,” I said to him as I scanned the area ahead of me.
“Au contraire, Mr. Stone. This is like meeting your favorite movie star or musician. I can’t wait to pick her brains. I bet she knows everything about everything.”
“Hey! We’re here on business. We’re gonna find out what we want to know and leave.”
Zane held up his palms. “Yes. I understand. You have to excuse me for being just a little excited.”
I led us deeper into the cemetery, my light magic showing us the way. We passed a multitude of monuments and graves of some of Chicago’s most influential people. I stared intently at the names embossed on any tombs we passed. We delved into a more secluded part of the cemetery where a squat mausoleum sat beneath a tree, which had undressed all its leaves and scattered them on the ground below. The name on the mausoleum read ‘Baldini’.
I stopped ahead of it. “We’re here.”
Zane dashed up beside me. He craned his neck forward to get a good look at the mausoleum. “Baldini? Who’s that?”
“Jimmy ‘the saint’ Baldini,” I told him. “An old mafia boss.” But it wasn’t really; it was just a front. No doubt Jimmy ‘the saint’ was about as real as Bruce Wayne.
“I don’t get it,” said Zane. “It’s just a mausoleum.”
I shook my head. “No. There’s dark energy here. I can feel it humming in my bones. This isn’t good.” I just wanted to turn away and walk as fast as I could out of there. It was grating on my nerves, that dark sensation like the marrow in my bones was turning to ice. Something bad was waiting in there; I knew it.
“But, where’s Nigella?” Aurora asked, her gaze fixed on the mausoleum.
“Inside,” I answered.
Her eyes widened. “Hey! I’m not going in there.”
Zane flipped a hand on the air. “Pff! Don’t worry, Aurora. We won’t have to. As you can see, it’s way too small for anyone to be in there. I think Erasmus has led us down a merry path.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” I took a deep breath and stepped up to the entrance, my feet crunching on scattered leaves. As I drew closer, that dark feeling intensified. Nausea rippled in my belly. It was like standing next to a power station that emitted negative energy. Hope and joy were being whittled away and replaced with despair and anguish. It was grinding like a machine, a soulless contraption crushing down all positivity into a fine powder to be whisked away by a stormy wind. I wanted to be anywhere but there. I came within millimeters of turning and running, but I pushed on, absorbing that dark energy like a sponge. Like an idiot.
I stopped and gazed down at the stone carving of a sphinx sitting atop a plinth to the right of the mausoleum door. With a trembling hand, I reached out and touched its paw. It was as cold as refrigerated meat. I pushed the paw inward, as per Erasmus’ instructions. It slid away,
triggering a mechanism. Rumbling movement from inside the mausoleum set off and I stared at the door with eager eyes. It clicked open and came ajar. I glanced back at the other two. Aurora was watching on, her jaw slack.
Zane’s eyes were glittering. “Awesome,” he whispered.
I took a steadying breath and grabbed the door handle. It was ice in my grip. The door creaked open, exposing the tomb waiting inside. The outside mechanism had caused it to slide across, revealing steps beyond that led down into darkness. I stared down them with dread filling my heart.
Zane came and stood next to me. “After you, Mr. Stone,” he said, gazing down the steps.
“What, you scared?”
“No, I...” He gulped. “You’re the one with the light in his hands.”
I gave him a sideways look. “Yeah right.” I pushed my light-imbued palms toward the steps and they illuminated about halfway down where they disappeared into more gloom. A shiver danced up my spine. I really didn’t want to go down there, but we had no choice. I inhaled a shuddery breath and started down them, the sound of my boots clacking on the steps echoing around me, bouncing off all the smooth stone now surrounding me. Zane and Aurora followed up and we delved deeper into that bizarre staircase, the aroma of ancient dirt filling my nostrils. I suddenly felt like I was Indiana Jones heading into the Temple of Doom. Well, we’d had the eyeball soup already, now it was time for the underground temple.
As we moved further down, my veins thrummed with dark. I was getting cold shivers. The divinity I had inside me didn’t jive well with dark energy. They interfered with one another. Created a friction inside that itched away at me. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. The light in my hands started to fade and I hissed in frustration. Light magic didn’t work so well underground. Now I felt even worse. Darkness took over and we were trapped in that tight little corridor; it was like being caught in the intestine of a demon.
We finally made it to the bottom of the steps. The small glow of light in my palms lit up a black door embossed with a gold skull. “Here we are!” I said in a joyful voice, but I wasn’t even the least bit happy. My bones were rattling with trepidation.
“Shall we knock?” Aurora asked.
That skull stared back at me with its vacant eyes. “I don’t think I want to,” I answered.
Zane grumbled to himself. From my side, I caught a glimpse of his arm jutting ahead of me. He rapped on the door with his knuckles. A second later, the door creaked open like it was alive. Creeps shivered through me as it went, exposing what lay beyond.
“Well, that wasn’t at all creepy,” I said as we all stood in that doorway, our wide eyes taking it all in. It was a medium-sized, underground stone chamber.
Dozens of fat black candles burned in random places, the flames atop appearing almost alive as they danced and writhed on the air. They gave off a hot, spicy aroma: burned cinnamon, charred allspice, blackened vanilla. Bookcases stuffed with books upon books lined the walls, tomes lined with jet-black jackets and as thick as tree trunks, numbered from one to infinity. They lay on the floor, open on desks dotted around the place, some used as candleholders. What walls weren’t obscured by bookcases were smothered with lavish, thick drapes pitch black in color. Yeah, this chick digged black.
My gaze roved around the chamber. A glass cabinet stood to the left. Sitting inside were jars and concoctions. I saw the odd eyeball and rat tail. A skull watched us with its long dead stare.
On the desks were chalices, more candles burning, charms and talismans—some depicting skulls, others impish creatures with their tongues hanging out. Strange dolls with pins sticking out of them lay strewn amongst them like a kid taking revenge on her once-favorite Barbie doll. A crystal ball sat amongst it all. So, Erasmus was communicating with her via crystal ball! Crazy.
I almost fell as I staggered inside, all of us gazing about like we were in a drunken stupor or had taken some of Dusty’s mescaline. It was all death and darkness. The place hummed with darkly occult vibrations. There was nothing joyous here, nothing celebrating life. Creepy wasn’t the word. This was something out of a Hammer horror movie. Any moment Christopher Lee was going to jump out from nowhere, flapping his cape, his chin smeared with blood, his eyeballs red with bloodlust. That or Renfield hunting cockroaches for breakfast. My spine tingled with apprehension.
Zane gazed about him in starry-eyed wonder. “This place is awesome,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“Make yourselves at home.”
The sultry voice cut through the gloom from somewhere at the back of the chamber, causing my stomach to clench. It crawled over me like lice. My brow knotted as I looked about me, tingles running all over my body. The strike of a match caught my attention, followed by the flame lighting up a face at the far end of the room. She was sitting nonchalantly on some kind of throne made of an onyx-colored material, sculptures of skulls embedded on the top edges of the backrest and the front of the armrests.
A leg dangled over an armrest, causing her legs to open proactively, her tight leather pants leaving little to the imagination. She gripped a thick, black candle, which she lit with the flame on her match. When done, she waved the match briskly on the air, killing the flame. Thin tendrils of smoke rose from the blackened head. She held the candle up, illuminating a face that was so pale it was almost white. Long hair fell over one shoulder, as white as Pegasus, a long streak of black running through it like someone had spilled a pot of ink on her. Her ruby-red lips were a gash across her face, a stark contrast to her insipid visage. Dark eyes glimmered with a deadly radiance.
I gazed at her agape. It was Morticia Addams on PCP. Somehow, I hadn’t even noticed her until then as if she was actually a shadow and the candlelight now lit her up. She placed the candle down atop the stack of books beside her throne and rose to her feet. She placed a black-leather-gloved hand on her hip and glared at us all with her obsidian eyes.
Zane cleared his throat. “Nigella Darkheart I presume?” he asked, stepping ahead of me toward her. He placed a hand on his chest as if he was about to faint. His eyes fluttered and a big, stupid grin spread across his face. “Can I just say, I am a huge fan,” he gushed. I rolled my eyes.
Nigella stared back down at him in distain, her top lip curled up. “Ugh! Get away from me, you little imp.” She shoved him out of the way and Zane went flying into a bookcase, making it rattle. His head smacked into the bookcase so hard he fell to the ground in an unconscious heap.
“Damn,” I said as I watched him go.
Nigella laid eyes on me and her lips spread into a wicked grin. “Well, what do we have here?” she asked, her dark eyes glittering. She raised her nose into the air and sniffed. “I smell angel. A fallen angel, my favorite kind. Nothing beats a good bad boy.”
I gulped as she approached, her hips swaying. There was a dangerous intoxication about her. Her oh so dark eyes were captivating, her ruby-red lips inviting. Her stare was like lasers. Her black tank top accentuated the ample swell of her bosom. Man, that bosom was so ample, I didn’t know where to look. I struggled to keep my gaze on her eyes, which was even worse. They were mesmerizing. Dark and gleaming and captivating. She would’ve made vampires blush.
She reached me and the hairs on the back of my neck sprang to attention. She ran the back of her index finger down my jawline, leaving tiny tickles of pleasure in its wake.
“If there’s one thing I love, it’s being bad,” she uttered. “Tell me, fallen one, why were you discarded from Heaven?”
“That’s none of your business.”
She threw back her head and let out a cackle that would’ve made hags jealous. The very sound of it made my skin crawl.
“I love a man with spunk!” she declared. “Men these days are so ready to fall over themselves at the mere sight of female flesh. Show them a sliver of ass and they froth at the mouth. Makes it all so boring. You on the other hand, look to be a challenge.” She narrowed her eyes and gazed into mine and it was like I was hypnoti
sed. I couldn’t divert my stare no matter how hard I tried. Those eyes were...evil. It was the only word I could use. Evil. I was like a maid locking gazes with Dracula.
“I see...someone else,” she said as she continued to scrutinize my very soul. “A lost love. She’s...up there, isn’t she? While you’re stuck down here with nothing but Mr. Hand and his five pink chums for company. I wouldn’t worry. She’s probably run off with someone else by now. Heaven is full of fresh meat.”
My top lip curled up. “Why you...”
“Hush!” she said, placing a finger over my lips. “The next word you utter may very well set me off into a volcanic rage. And that would be a shame since we are getting on so splendidly.”
I scowled at her and she smiled like a mischievous child. She whirled away and stopped by a desk where she uncorked a half empty bottle of red wine and poured some into a silver goblet. “Care for a drink?”
“No thanks, it’s probably chicken blood.”
She tilted her head up and let out another one of those skin-crawling cackles. “Unfortunately, I already drank all the blood. This stuff is just plain, boring old claret. Won’t satiate a vampire, but it does the trick in getting you tanked.” She snatched up the goblet and took a big swig. “Ah, that’s better.” She placed the goblet back down and faced us. “Now. That old fool Erasmus informs me you seek an audience. I must say, I’m intrigued. Why would a fallen angel wish an audience with little old me?” She put on an innocent pout.
“’Cause I need your help.”
“Help doesn’t come cheap.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Are you trying to bribe me?”
She cocked her head to the side. “I don’t need to try, dearie. My house. My rules. Play. Or leave. It makes no difference to me.”
“Uh-huh. The people that run the cemetery know you’re here, doing all this?”
“What are you going to do, tell on me?”
“I could have you busted for breaking Divine Law.”
“Ooh, sounds exciting! Are you going to cuff me, tie me up, and have your wicked way with me? I do hope so.” She clasped her wrists together and raised her hands in the air. “I’m all yours.”