by G. A. Rael
“Yes,” she gritted out.
"Guess the homeschooling wasn’t a total flop,” he mused. "Anyway, once you sign this contract, I'll become your familiar. That will allow me to take my human form whenever I like, and in return, I'll help you get all your witchy power-ups and unlock all those gifts your parents suppressed. Gifts that will help you achieve your full potential. You'll need them to raise your brother and mother."
"Why can't you just bring them back now?”
"Because there's no fun in that, first of all," he replied. "Second, unlike Darren, they've been rotting for over a decade. It'll take more time and a lot more juice than either of us have at the moment."
She hesitated. "Why would a demon agree to serve a human?"
He rolled his eyes. "You're missing the big picture here. Like I said, you’re not just a human. You’re a weapon and my golden ticket to… everything. Being your familiar for the remainder of your mortal lifetime, which is just a drop in the bucket to me, is really a small sacrifice.”
“If I’m so fucking important, then why did you let all this happen?” she demanded. “Why show up now?”
“Questions, questions. I can answer them all or we can bring Darren back, but you’re going to have to pick one or the other.”
Jordan tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. "You swear you'll bring them back?"
Hermes leaned in, pushing the screen towards her. "We will. Together,” he promised in a gentler tone. "I might be a demon and I can't promise that your afterlife will be a day at the spa, but I meant what I said before. I'll never lie to you, Jordan. Never.”
She hesitated only a moment before taking the tablet and signing on the line at the bottom. The stylus disappeared from her hand and an instant later, so did the tablet. When she looked up, the demon was twirling the stylus between his fingers before he tucked it away in his pocket. "Told you I was good at sleight of hand."
"That's it?" she asked warily, instinctively pressing her hand to her chest. "I don't feel any different."
"You were expecting smoke and maniacal cackling, maybe?" He shrugged. "I could do that if it'll make you feel better."
"No thanks."
"There is just one more thing it takes to make our partnership official."
"What's that?"
The demon slipped a slender finger under her chin and tilted her head up. Rather than answer, he pressed his lips against hers. They were cool and silken to the touch, just like the rest of him. Jordan gave a muffled cry of surprise as Hermes crushed her against his chest and deepened the kiss. At first, she tried to push him away, but a strange feeling of familiarity washed over her and a surge of energy passed through his touch.
It was only when she went limp in his arms that she realized he was siphoning energy from her. She felt faint, but strangely not drained like she had when funneling her own life force into Susan. The demon supported her as he broke off the dizzying kiss and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Mhm," he purred, licking his lips. “Virgin is my favorite flavor of witch."
Jordan's face flamed as she stumbled away from him. "Was that really necessary?" she demanded, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.
“Necessary,” he scoffed. “In a way. Gives the whole deal a personal feel."
"Just bring him back," Jordan said, pointing to Darren's lifeless body.
"Pushy," he muttered, rubbing his hands together as he knelt beside the corpse. "Alright, now for the really fun part. First things first, exactly how much did he know about you before he died?"
"Too much," Jordan murmured. "I made the mistake of telling him about my past and he saw the spell beginning to work on Susan.”
"That's what I was afraid of," Hermes said thoughtfully, biting his thumb. "Looks like a full mental scrub is in order."
"What?" she asked, panicked. "You can't erase everything!”
"I'm not going to, you are," he said. "Consider this your first bike ride with training wheels on. You can leave Darren’s memories of your relationship if you want, but it's not advisable."
"Why not?"
"We've got a lot of ground to cover and you're going to be knee-deep in magic by the time the next full moon rolls around. You were drawn to Cold Creek for a reason. It’s the only place that’s truly safe from your father, and everyone else who’s going to come after you now that you’re on the radar.”
“On the radar?” She frowned. “What did you do?”
“I claimed you. It’s like a stock going public, there’s no way to hide it. Before you give me that look, let me remind you that if I hadn’t found you first and brought you here, it was only a matter of time someone worse did.”
Jordan doubted that, but there wasn’t much time to challenge him. She looked down at Darren, her heart breaking at the thought of him not remembering her. “Is this really the only way?”
“No, but it’s the easiest way you can keep him at a distance without having to leave town. Assuming you care about him as much as you say.”
"Will he remember me at all?"
"It's a small town, it would be inconvenient for him to forget everything," said Hermes. "We'll just tweak his memory a little. He'll forget all about this clusterfuck, especially the magical bits. He can go back to being a cranky atheist who had an ill-advised and short-lived fling with the local new-ager."
Jordan wanted to argue, but Darren's lips were turning blue and she knew Hermes was right. It was the best way to keep Darren out of her life without raising suspicion. "How do we do this?"
"I don't do Latin and robes,” he said with a distasteful sneer. "I like to stick to the basics. In this case, that means equivalent exchange."
Jordan looked up sharply. "You mean a life for a life?"
"Bingo."
"I can't do that," she said quickly. "Selling my soul is one thing, but I can't take anyone else's life. Not intentionally.”
"Well, aren't you just darling," he said dryly. "Fortunately for you, the perfect candidate for sacrifice is at a bar on the outskirts of town waiting for the fuzz to catch up with him."
The temptation to extinguish her grief and rage with Hank Thomas' blood was strong, but Jordan shook her head. "No. It's wrong and I won't do it."
He sighed. "Well, don't say I didn't try. Your soul is still mine, even if you refuse to accept the consolation prize.“
Jordan glanced around the room, her gaze falling on the sleeping woman in the hospital bed. Her eyes widened slightly in realization. "There's someone else."
"Who, sleeping beauty?" he asked doubtfully. "How is that better than trading a murderer's life for his victim's?"
"Susan never wanted this," said Jordan. "I could feel it when I was healing her. The spell failed, not just because I didn't have the power but because she didn't want to come back. Darren said Hank fought with the doctors and kept her alive because he couldn't let go. If I can reach her somehow, maybe I could help her move on.”
"It's always going to be the hard, boring way with you, isn't it?" Hermes grumbled, folding his arms. "Fine. Give it a shot."
Jordan wasted no time walking over to the bed. She closed her eyes and pressed her hand against Susan's forehead, but she felt nothing. "It's been so long since I could see someone's thoughts on command,“ she said, looking back at the demon. "How do I do it?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, my other witches knew all their reading, writing and arithmetic by the time they came to me. How did it feel when you were younger?"
She paused. "It always happened when I was healing. I'd put energy into them and they'd project things back to me. I don't think it was conscious."
"Then try that," he suggested.
"But I've already lost a lot of energy,” said Jordan, already feeling on the verge of collapse. "I won't have anything left to bring Darren back."
Hermes came to stand behind her and placed his hand on top of hers. "That's where having a familiar comes in handy.”
Energy surged through Jor
dan in far greater quantities than what Hermes had taken as he put his hand over hers. Jordan gasped as something both warm and cool spread through her veins and passed through her breath, as if filling her every pore. Susan's eyes fluttered and Jordan's own vision flashed.
When her vision returned to normal, she was no longer standing in the hospital room. Instead, she was on the porch of a little home she thought she vaguely recognized from Cold Creek's Main Street. Susan was sitting on a porch swing, holding a book in her hands as her legs lazily pumped the swing back and forth. Her cheeks were full and warm and her hair gleamed, held back by a barrette covered in rhinestones.
"Hello, Jordan," she said with a knowing smile that made the witch jolt. "I was hoping you'd come."
Jordan stared at her in wonder. "Susan, you're alive."
Susan gave a musical laugh that solved the mystery of Hank's devotion. "I wouldn't say that," she said, looking down either side of the uncharacteristically quiet street. "This place is more of a train station. It's a layover for my real destination, and I'm getting a little tired of waiting for the final boarding call, if you know what I mean."
"You know why I'm here," Jordan said guiltily.
"Of course. I welcome it," said Susan, closing her book as she stood. "My Hank was good and kind once, but unresolved grief is kind of like a shadow. It distorts things, making wolves out of puppy dogs and monsters out of good men. He doesn't know how to let go and I can't keep waiting for him to. He needs help, and so do I."
"You want me to kill you?"
Susan laughed again, but this time the song was laced with sadness. "Oh, honey, I died a long time ago. I just want to be put to rest, that's all. If it brings Darren back, all the better, but I'd ask you to do the same even if he wasn't involved. You make sure he knows that.”
Jordan took a deep breath. "I don't know what will happen once you're gone."
Susan smiled widely. "Does anyone? I think that's part of the fun, don't you?"
"I guess I'll find out one day."
Susan's smile faded.
"What is it?" Jordan asked warily.
"You made a deal with a demon, Jordan," she said carefully. "Now, I don't know what's all the way behind the veil, but I hear whispers here and there. Enough to know they don't take kindly to that… Upstairs."
Jordan swallowed hard. "No, I guess not."
"Well," Susan sighed, nodding into the distance as the sound of a train whistle approached. "I'm ready if you are. Looks like that's my train."
Jordan spun around in confusion only to realize they were no longer on the porch but on the platform of a train station with a steam locomotive barreling down the tracks. "I didn't think Cold Creek had a train station."
"It used to," Susan said, bending to pick up a bag by her feet. When Jordan turned around, Susan was wearing a beautiful blue-and-white scarf that brought out the color of her eyes.
"How do I do it?" Jordan asked nervously.
"I haven't taken a breath on my own in years," said Susan. Her eyes fluttered shut as her chest expanded with air. "Hank always thought I was crazy for liking the way the steam engine smelled. To me, it's always smelled like adventure."
The train pulled up and a stout man in a conductor's hat leaned out of the open door as it rolled to a stop. "All aboard for Grand Central."
"Wait," Jordan called as Susan walked toward the tracks. The woman stopped, handing her bag over to the train conductor. Jordan continued, "How do I know this is really what you want? That this isn't just my head coming up with a fantasy to ease my conscience?"
"You don't," said Susan. "You just have to trust your gut, do what you think is right, and be willing to live with the consequences either way.”
Susan turned and took the conductor's hand as he helped her onto the train. She looked back at Jordan one last time and raised her hand with a small smile. "Thank you," she mouthed, lifting the hem of her skirt as she climbed the last step.
Jordan gave a feeble wave, watching as the smoke stack billowed angrily. A moment later, the train was in motion again. She watched until it disappeared into the distance and felt the ground trembling beneath her. A crack between her feet turned into a chasm before she had the chance to step away and when she fell, she fell into a pair of strong arms.
"Easy," said Hermes, holding her up. "I take it you got what you were looking for?"
"I think so," Jordan said, disoriented. She managed to stand on her own, still empowered by the demon's energy. She stared at Susan and then at the steadily gasping ventilator, recalling the woman's cryptic words. "I know what I need to do."
The demon stepped back and watched her. Jordan took a deep breath instinctively and hesitated only a moment before pulling the plug. "Goodbye, Susan," she whispered. "Have a nice trip."
The ventilator breathed one final gasp and the heart rate monitor began to fall. It all happened faster than Jordan would have imagined, barely giving her time to think it through. Not that there was any undoing some things once they were done.
When the monitor screamed and the line went flat, Jordan looked to Susan's face, hoping for a hint of a smile or any confirmation that she had made the right decision. There was none to be found. Susan didn't look peaceful, but she didn't look distressed, either. Mostly, she just looked the same as she probably had for ten years.
Jordan decided that was all the confirmation she was going to get.
When Hermes’ hand settled on her shoulder, Jordan jolted. "The first time is always the hardest," he said, his tone surprisingly gentle. "It'll get easier from here."
"You say that like killing people is going to become a regular occurrence."
"This time you got lucky," he replied. "There won't always be a sacrificial lamb tied to the altar to keep you from making the tough decisions. As for today, just be grateful."
She turned toward Darren's body and found it a little easier to live with the guilt when she reminded herself of what it was all for. "What do I have to do now?"
"Nothing," the demon replied, glancing at his watch. "In fact, he should be coming around any --"
Darren's body convulsed and he let out a ragged gasp as air entered his lungs for the first time in the better part of an hour. Jordan ran to him as he choked and sputtered.
"Oh, about any time now I’d say,” Hermes mused.
"Is he alright?" Jordan asked in a panic.
"He will be, give him time," said Hermes. "I should get him out of here, though. Hank made sure this place was isolated for what he had planned, but it won't be long before the next security guard shows up for his shift."
"What are we going to tell the police?"
"Let me take care of that. By morning, everyone will think Hank Thomas finally had enough and pulled the plug on his wife before skipping town. The only trace of Darren's day trip to the afterlife will be a nasty hangover and you won't have been seen since you went home early from the festival."
Jordan frowned. “All wrapped up nice and tidy with a bow, huh?"
"Don't sulk. You're getting everything you wanted," Hermes scolded, draping Darren's arm around his shoulder as he lifted the partially conscious man to his feet. "It could be a lot worse."
"I guess so," she said, looking at Darren one last time. It didn't really matter what she wanted, she reminded herself. As long as he was going to be okay, it was a fair deal in her book.
"Go on home, get some sleep," said Hermes. "You're going to need it."
Jordan gave him a confused look, but before she could ask what he meant, the two men vanished. Once again, there was no puff of smoke or flash of light. They were just gone.
Jordan cast a forlorn look at the bed. She walked over and covered Susan's face with the blanket. It was the least she could do.
"I'd ask who died, but I guess it's a bit too soon for that kind of humor."
Jordan spun around to face Susan. The woman looked every bit as solid as Jordan, and she was wearing the same outfit she had been wearing in the dream
. "Susan! How? I just --"
Susan held her hands out with a shrug. "I couldn't reach out to Hank no matter how many times I tried, but you seem to be like an airport--international territory it's safe to visit without a passport as long as you don't step too far outside the building.”
Jordan wasn't sure she liked the sound of that, but she had too many other questions to press the issue. "So you're okay? I did the right thing by setting you free?”
Susan laughed. "I didn't come all the way back to talk about me. I came to warn you," she said, growing somber. "He'll come after you, you know."
"Hank?" Jordan asked worriedly.
Susan shook her head.
"Who, then?"
"I'm sorry, that's all I can say," she murmured. "That and I have a message for you."
"A message? From who?"
"He said not to tell you who it’s from, just that you should be careful. I might be the first spirit to visit you, but I won't be the last," Susan said, lowering her voice. "You're a medium now, Jordan. It's one of the gifts you locked away as a child. Killing me was a ritual, it opened a door. Some doors can't be closed once they're opened."
"A ritual?"
"The demon Hermes is well known on the other side and rumor has it he's planning something. I'm supposed to tell you that you made a horrible mistake, and even though it can't be undone, you still shouldn't trust Hermes. This is the first ritual of five that he'll ask you to perform in order to unlock the power it will take to fulfill your contract. I don't know what that means, but it doesn't sound good."
Jordan gulped, remembering Hermes’ words about her being the Whore of Babylon. No matter how much she wished that was just another slam, she got the feeling it was much more than that. "No, it doesn't. What am I supposed to do?"
"Play along, for now," said Susan, narrowing her eyes. "Just wait and when the time is right, you'll be contacted by another spirit who can give you further guidance."
"But I thought nothing could be done," she said, confused. "I already sold my soul."