by Angie Fox
Grandma raised her voice. "Seal the circle."
A hush fell over the coven. The witches parted for Frieda, who walked slowly, deliberately, to the altar, her arms aloft, carrying the skull of a goat.
Shiloh cringed. It was kind of ugly—mostly bone with half its teeth missing and a patch of dried skin stretched over part of the top and flapping near the right eye socket.
I leaned close and whispered against her hair. "My Great-Aunt Evie used it in her ceremonies. It'll help us focus our strength."
She shivered. "And you call us creepy."
Okay, that was fair.
Hades. It was getting dark quick. Something knew we were coming.
I squeezed Shiloh's hand. She squeezed back.
The witches closed their eyes and I felt the magic build. The air grew heavier. It prickled against my skin as they began a low, rhythmic chant. I couldn't make out the words, but it sounded ancient. Powerful.
The witches' voices lowered as the air grew warmer. The only sound now came from their chanting and the bubbling of the fountain at the center of the pool.
The birds gripped nervously at their perches and flapped their wings in the cage on the altar, as if they desperately wished to fly away. It was too late for them, and for us. The thick red altar candles cast tall shadows that grew closer and closer.
Sacrifice.
The word stuck in my mind.
It was the only thing that would make a difference against the darkness we faced.
Grandma bowed her head. "We, the witches of the Red Skull, are bound to the magic that has sustained our line for more than twelve hundred years. In it, we find warmth, light, and eternal goodness. Without it, we perish."
She paused as the clouds began to roll over us, blocking out the sun. "As we gather on this sunrise, this new beginning, we ask for the power to see beyond what is visible, to reach beyond the veil, to touch the evil that threatens us."
My hand felt clammy. Yes, I was ready to draw closer to the Earl of Hell. It was the only way to see what was truly happening. But having it stated plainly made me nervous all the same. Now I'd involved the witches. And Shiloh.
Still, how many more innocents would suffer if we didn't get answers?
A yellow bird raised up in a panic, tried to take flight, its wings beating against the others. The others bumped against him, wings flapping, erupting into a frantic flurry of shrieks.
Shiloh stiffened. "What are the birds for?" she whispered.
"To cheat the demon." Hopefully. They'd made me use guppies from Walmart in the past. "They're enchanted to be kind of like those canaries they used to take down into mines. An evil spirit tries to take you, it gets the bird instead."
At least that was how it had worked before. And we'd needed every damned one of them.
Tall flames erupted from the blood red candles.
Goose bumps raced up my arms as the air temperature plunged. The water in the sacred pool began to bubble, as if it were a pot set to boil.
Shiloh gripped my hand tighter. Her skin glowed orange.
I nudged her. "You okay?"
"Peachy," she said through clenched teeth.
The scent of sulfur tinged the air and I could feel the ominous, cloying touch of evil. Or maybe that was just my new friend.
The courtyard was dark as midnight. Breathe. Sweat chilled on my skin.
The witches' chanting grew louder, their faces lit by the climbing flames of the candles.
"Hold steady," Grandma called out. "We ask to see," she shouted. "We ask to know."
Water roiled in the sacred pool. It spit large, fat drops. They stung like hot bacon grease. "We ask to see the Earl of Hell!"
It was insane.
An invitation to damnation.
We were doing the right thing. I had to trust. Had to believe in the power of the witches or I would have been tempted to flee the cursed ceremony and never come back. The birds beat against the cage, desperate to take flight. There were two of them now, one dead, its lifeless yellow wings tangled in the wires of the cage.
The Red Skulls spoke in a rhythmic language I'd never heard, their words washing over me as I focused on the orange and blue flames of the candles. They danced on blackened wicks, like beacons in the darkness.
My blood turned cold as an image slowly took form over the sacred pool. Hellfire and damnation. I really wasn't looking forward to seeing the Earl. Or anything else that in a perfect world would be dwelling far down in the depths of hell.
My breath came in spurts, each exhale a cloud in the rapidly freezing air as the image took shape.
He appeared as a man. Beautiful, ethereal, with curling blond hair and a face like an angel's. His lips were generous, his cheekbones sculpted, marred only by a hairline scar that trailed from his left eye.
He tilted his head and turned to me, coy. Waiting.
His blue eyes caught mine and I felt it down to my core. Just as quickly, his presence faded away.
"Shit. He slipped the noose." Grandma threw up her arms and I could almost see the power arcing between them. Her breath came hard. Her voice was tight. "Get him, Lizzie. Shiloh! Everybody—we need a connection!"
I focused on the Earl with all my strength, his churning darkness and his deceptive light. I willed him into existence here, right now. I urged the universe to keep a part of him on this plane.
But he was strong, slippery. I could hear his laughter as I lost my grip on him and he disappeared into the mist.
"I got something," Shiloh groaned. Her eyes were closed, her skin glowing. Energy radiated from her like cold flame.
She shook violently. I gripped her hand, tried to lend her my own strength, my focus. My heart slammed in my throat.
Two birds lay at the bottom of the cage. Dead.
An image flickered. A woman in red.
Cripes. It was the dead succubi seer.
"Pull her in," Grandma ordered.
I closed my eyes and willed it to be so. I focused on the power of the succubi, the intent of the she-demons.
To make the Earl of Hell's intentions known.
I forced my mind to calm, my breathing to grow even. I wound my mind through the space like swimming through cold, dark water. I opened myself to Shiloh's dark side, her power. The glow of her orange hand against mine. I used it to make us both stronger.
The woman appeared hazy before us. She was bald. A beautiful gold scarf settled over her shoulders. Her fingers glittered with jewels. Her eyes blazed red with the power of the underworld. The Earl of Hell swirled in a mist behind her, beyond our reach. But not far from hers.
"He speaks," she said, her voice echoing over time and dimensions.
The seer closed her eyes, savoring his presence.
"I will come when the fallen angel builds my church."
A smile stole over her lips.
"I will come with the energy of six hundred sixty-six souls."
She stared directly at me.
"I will come through the wall of death."
A dark portal swirled behind her. Every demon slayer instinct I had recognized it instantly. Screamed for me to leap headlong at it. It was a direct gateway to the underworld.
That was the one that the Earl was using to funnel his power. That was his instrument, his wall of death.
"Show us more," I ordered.
Shiloh gritted her teeth, pushed until her skin glowed bright.
The portal churned darker, larger, and I saw what surrounded it: a dungeon, cages, and, yes, above it—my dad's church.
Enchanted locks guarded the entrances to the catacombs. Their purple energy lit up the night. Powerful wards crisscrossed the space like the latest laser security system. The demon had built a flipping fortress under the old movie theater.
It had appeared so harmless from the street. But below, its power was all-consuming.
"How many souls does he have?" I demanded.
The seer grinned and placed a finger over her lips.
&nbs
p; The Earl swirled behind her, angry now.
"It is safe," she assured us. "No one can enter without the blessing of the Earl or the angel."
My dad was no angel.
Then it hit me. Why had she told us that? It seemed like too much. Holy hell. The truth of it seized in my gut. "She's keeping us here."
"Where's my husband?" Shiloh pushed. "Where's Damien?"
The seer laughed.
We had to get out of there.
Now.
My mind hurtled back to the Seer's Ceremony. A violent wind buffeted the courtyard, spraying stinging water and dirt. All three birds lay dead.
Grandma reached for us in a blind panic. An unseen force held her back. She lingered just beyond the veil. She yelled. I couldn't hear her above the winds.
Shiloh's eyes blazed red as she communed with the succubus.
"Pull out!" I ordered.
A hole opened up where the seer had been. It sucked at us. I heard the dead succubus laughing.
It was a trap.
We'd gotten too close.
Shiloh didn't see it. Grandma and the witches were too far away.
I grabbed for my friend. We'd needed Shiloh, had to have her in order to connect with the succubus who knew the truth. But the presence of even a half demon, the power, had thrown us into a tailspin.
The candles fell. The altar crumbled. My aunt's goat head was dragged into the mist. I struggled against the power of the succubus, against the Earl of Hell, as Shiloh let out a piercing scream.
Time slowed. The air around us felt like soup.
We had to move, had to escape, or the gaping black hole would suck us down. But we had nowhere to run. Shiloh refused to move and I realized with a start that she was holding it back—or trying to.
The opening grew with every second I stared in horror. I tried to step back, to the side, but my body wouldn't move that way. We could only move forward, into the abyss. It had us trapped.
Unless…
"Go!" I pulled her with me, forced her to follow as I hurled us both forward, under the gaping, swirling chasm and into the roiling waters of the sacred pond.
The water stung like acid. It ate at my skin. Shiloh thrashed against me in the water as I forced her to stay under, to endure. It was the only way to escape the storm above and frankly I'd rather boil alive than be sucked into the darkness. Or worse, the clutches of the Earl.
My lungs burned, my body stung. I closed my eyes tight. Forced myself to stay under.
I thought of little Pirate. Dimitri. They'd gotten out. They'd survive this, even if I didn't.
Icy talons ripped at my hair, tearing it, trying to take me. I swam for the bottom, forcing Shiloh with me.
Another body plunged into the pit with us, then another. They hit the water like depth charges. I couldn't see anything. I only knew I was surrounded.
But I had nowhere to go.
An unknown force gripped me under the arms and dragged me to the surface. I reached for my switch stars before my hand was shoved away, yanked up and out of the water. My face broke the surface and I took a long pull of frigid air, the water burning my mouth and tongue.
My captor struggled to subdue me. "Stop fighting, Lizzie!" More arms wrangled me. "For fuck's sake!"
I opened my eyes, choking, my throat burning, my lungs dry. Through the sting of the water, I saw Ant Eater. She had my hands. Grandma had my back. They were sopping wet and scared as hell. I forced the words out between gasps for air. "Where's Shiloh?"
"She's out," Grandma said.
"Taken?" I shook off Ant Eater's grasp and whipped around to see Frieda and Bob hauling her from the pool. Thank God. "What the hell happened?" I tried to ask. It came out as a choking garble. I looked up, fighting the stinging water as I wiped my eyes.
The demon's vortex had vanished. In its place hung a sky thick with clouds.
Ant Eater still felt the need to hold me up. I shook out of her grasp.
"It tried to take you," she said. "You jumped into the sacred pool and burned the evil off." She snorted, looking like a drowned rat. "It was the scariest fucking light show I've ever seen."
Grandma shoved up against the side of the pool and dragged herself out, her shirt and leather pants streaming with water. She sat on the edge, as winded as I was. "Your friend Shiloh here saved you."
Shiloh stood at the edge of the pool, wrapped in a towel, looking like Daryl Hannah in that mermaid movie. Was it too much to ask that she look as bedraggled as I felt?
Ant Eater pulled herself out of the water as well. "Shiloh closed the vortex."
"Then you tried to drown her," Grandma added.
"I did not." The water no longer burned. In fact, it felt cool against my irritated skin. I thought we were escaping.
I studied my arms. There were no marks from the burning, only pink, irritated skin. It looked as if I'd loofahed too much.
Shiloh clutched the towel around her closer. "I had to cut off the power. So I did," she said, as if she couldn't quite believe she'd done it.
Frieda, who had used the stairs to get out of the pool, made her way behind the she-demon. "You're stronger than you look." Shiloh watched her, wary. Good call, because Frieda hadn't finished yet. "You're also good."
It made me glad the witches realized that. Well, except for Grandma. She'd known all along. I let Grandma stand up before I hauled myself out of the water. Nobody offered me a towel, but frankly, I didn't care. The cold helped me focus.
"Clean up," Grandma ordered the witches. "We'll figure out what to do next."
It still amazed me how cavalier these women could be about a demon attack. Then again, when I'd first met them, they had been on the run from a demon for thirty years.
Shiloh and I, along with Ant Eater and Frieda joined Grandma near the remains of the ruined altar. We stood in a small circle as the witches began cleanup work around us.
I touched Shiloh's arm. "Any word on your husband?"
She took a deep breath, let it out. "Just a big black hole."
"I'm sure he's okay," I told her. I mean, if he wasn't, she'd have seen that, right?
"I don't think he is," Shiloh said, with the certainty of a wife.
I hoped to God she was wrong.
Grandma scratched her head, the tinsel in her hair sopping, but unspoiled. "So what have we learned?"
Other than how fucked up things were? "The Earl of Hell knows about me," I said. Or at least he hadn't been surprised to see me.
"We knew that," she answered. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Now it seems they're aiming for six hundred sixty-six souls. At least they haven't gotten there yet."
"Yet," Shiloh repeated. "Six hundred sixty-six isn't a lot."
Frieda's eyes bugged. "It isn't?"
"Not in LA," Shiloh said, drawing off the towel and tossing it over her shoulder. "Trust me."
I leaned in closer. "Okay, well if they're drawing the power through that dark portal in the church basement, we need to shut that down."
"Well yeah," Ant Eater said. "You saw it, though. It's locked tight."
Frieda nodded. "We already tried to sneak in. Didn't work. You heard what the seer said. You have to be let in."
Oh, sure. No problem. My throat still stung from the water and I cleared it. "Let's keep this in the realm of possibility." Truly. "There's no way the Earl of Hell is going to let any one of us in. Even Shiloh."
"Agreed," Grandma said. "But your dad will let you in."
She might as well have doused me with a bucket of stinging water.
No, he wouldn't.
Okay, maybe he said he would, but it was a ridiculous thought. "I can't join with my dad. I already told him to go to hell." Not literally, of course. I didn't want to encourage the man. But, "He knows I'm not on his side."
Grandma shook her head, as if she'd already come to a decision. A nutso one. "You have to convince him otherwise," she said, pointing a finger at me. "You have to go back to him and say you've changed your mind
."
Oh yeah. Right. "He'll never buy it."
"Then make him believe," Ant Eater urged. Great. Her, too. "Gertie's right. You have to convince him you'll work with him. It's the only way."
This was crazy. "The demon knows I'm here."
"Exactly," Shiloh said. "He's growing more powerful by the day. You saw it."
Of course I did, but—
"Once you're in, you can get us past your dad," Grandma said.
"Oh hell," I said.
Ant Eater nodded. "Exactly."
"I'm a terrible actor," I told them. "There's no way he's going to think I suddenly changed my mind."
"Then you'd better be real convincing," Grandma warned. "It's the only way, Lizzie. We need to stop this."
We did and we would. Even if my dad was the last person on Earth I wanted to see.
Chapter Seventeen
I retreated to the rear of the courtyard and faced the wall of ivy as I dialed my dad's cell number. All the while, I kept trying to think how I could possibly convince him I'd work with him, that I'd want to draw closer to him and the Earl of Hell.
I shivered and told myself it was the result of standing around once again wearing wet leather. This demon slayer business had never been easy on the wardrobe.
I chewed on my lip as the phone rang once, twice. I wasn't sure I even wanted him to answer. Things were much better when I'd cut him out of my life.
My dad was dangerous. He didn't think like a sane, logical person.
I toyed with the ivy on the wall.
When I'd saved him the last time, any reasonable person would have taken that second chance at life and run. But Dad had gone back to the demon and doubled down. He was like a bad gambler, one who didn't want to quit and couldn't believe he'd lose in the end.
He answered on the fifth ring. "Who…? Who ish this?" He sounded drunk, or high.
I glanced behind me, as if I could possibly escape this, and saw Frieda lingering close, placing a pot of sage less than a yard away, as if she absolutely had to be within earshot.
I gave her a sharp look. "Get lost."
"Real nice," my dad said, shaking off the cobwebs. "You wake me up before ten in the morning and you insult me." His voice still dragged, but at least he wasn't under the influence. Who knew he wasn't a morning person? Not me.