by Marcus James
“Some separating, others taking with them lovers, both witches and non-witches alike, and Xisuthrus, after having made offerings and sacrifices to the gods with his brethren, ordered those mortals who he had spared to return to Uruk and create a new city. A city that honored all the gods and never made the mistake of abandoning them again.
“And that city became Babylon, and Babylon was the center of the world...”
Everything changed again and soon they were high up in some great mountainous cave and the air was crisp and smelled of clean water, and the sound of a rushing fall could be heard. The sky was late-morning gray and the green tops of great trees could be seen beyond the opening of the cavern.
A woman in a tattered shroud climbed up the cinereal cliff rock on the other side of them, using all of her strength to pull herself up one crack in the stone at a time.
“She is your link. She is your source just as I am your source.”
Kathryn looked at Kuri and to the figure of her ancestor and began to back away from him. There was something in his eyes, something in the rigidness of his stance and the way he held his arms and how his shoulders seemed to arch that made Kathryn’s pulse quicken and the sweat begin to bead down her face.
“In Christianity we became the angels who bed with the mortal women-those priestesses-and in Greece we were called the Titans-the ones who came before.”
His body began to quiver, and his legs stiffened then trembled. “We bedded the priestesses of Inanna and they begot Nephilim, and they begot their own children with their mothers and thus the witches were born.”
Kuri was doubling over now, though he walked towards Kathryn, and the distinct sound of bones breaking, of tissue rearranging itself seemed to echo off of the damp walls of the cavern.
“Every Witch begins in the blood of those children. Every witch is of the divine. We run in your veins. But witches are not docile and like all humans, they have a mind of their own and when they choose to abandon a god or to defile a god... we know.”
Kuri’s voice became a growl, and his face contorted and the skin was stretching-tearing apart-Kathryn could see it and it was just like her vision when she had touched that old book with its ancient script.
“We who keep order and bring such terror to those who inherit our wrath...”
He was doubled over now and fell to his knees covered in sweat and there were humps in the shoulders now, at those spots of scarred flesh between the blades, and those humps began to move and to rip the skin, forcing those scars to open and bleed, and as if fingers trying to force their way through a small hole in a piece of paper, black feathers began to emerge.
“We who are born in bloodshed and death. We who were fed the heart and the brain of the guilty for our appeasement!”
Kathryn looked around but there was no way out, and wherever she was, however she had gotten here, there seemed no way to bring her back to her bedroom at the Chateau Marmont. Back to Richie and Magdalene, no way out of this nightmare and back into Sheffield’s arms.
She had been so stupid to think that she could take this on herself and believe that she could somehow win, that she could somehow keep control. There was no controlling this. There was no controlling Kuri or the other two; they had been in control from the moment she had arrived in Los Angeles.
They were divine beings-demigods who knew that she would be coming to Los Angeles. They had known before she had known, and Hollywood was the Babylon of the western world. It was rich, decadent, and filled with new living gods, gods that stood twenty feet tall on silver screens all throughout the world.
Each kill was to feed-to grow in strength before Kathryn’s arrival. She understood that now. There was no escaping who she was and what it meant to be a Blackmoore. She could either fight or she could lie down and die. She could either take a stand or be food to these fierce death dealers of the gods, the choice was now hers.
“You abandoned Him! And the child you shall one day carry, and the other of the same blood but separated from your line, will be the ones who can end Him utterly!
“He calls for vengeance and justice and we who serve the old ones shall be his sword!”
Kuri’s body twisted and his back arched as the flesh ripped apart and those great black wings sprung forth from his shoulders, covered in torn bits of flesh and blood, and his fingers and hands ripped apart, and from beneath like a snake slithering out of discarded skin were those fierce, flesh-ripping talon hands, and she watched in horror as the fleshy mask of his face was ripped off by that giant dagger-like beak.
He was now that bird-man, that great and ancient hammer of the Dark God of the Wood, and the judge of the divine world. Kathryn had been right. He was neither good nor was he evil. Arish, Niiq, and Kuri just were. They were in the mortal world for one reason and one alone; to destroy her utterly.
Kuri rose from the damp and rocky floor of the cavern, discarding the rest of the skin that had been his face like a decimated Halloween mask, and flew at Kathryn. He moved so fast that all Kathryn could think to do was sprint away from him.
She made it into the dark of the cavern, running as fast as she could, her torn dress billowing like an open coat, her bare feet getting caught up on the sharp bedrock.
Kathryn heard his screech behind her, and she craned her neck around to see him closing in the distance between them. She turned back to face the darkness before her, praying for some way out of this and lost her footing, tripping on loose stone, and as when she fell down the steps at Scream, Kathryn felt as if she was falling in slow motion, seeing the ground come closer and closer, before it finally connected with the side of her head and she was plunged into quiet darkness.
XVI
Magdalene and Richie sat in the North Hollywood branch of the Los Angeles public library, the strong dark mahogany tabletop between them and their feet grazing each other underneath.
After having left the Ramos home in Echo Park, they sped to the nearest Library. Richie had explained to Magdalene as they drove quickly on along the streets that an earthquake the year before had forced the Echo Park location into a smaller temporary housing, and many of the books in their collection had been ruined, the same with the central location downtown, which had caught fire not just once, but twice in 1986, causing the iconic and beautifully painted building to be closed for extensive renovation and so as a result that had to drive further out to North Hollywood to be guaranteed an extensive collection of history and mythology.
It was beautiful with its hacienda architecture, long stone and brick, and simple columns and beautiful tile work. The traditional terracotta shingled roof was a blaze of red under the California sun, and the brick and concrete courtyard had been picturesque with its strategically placed benches and lamp posts.
Though the architecture was vastly different from what could be found in South Hill, it still had enough of an echo that it made Magdalene think of home, and as they had walked through the doors, her heart caught in her chest for just a moment as she thought about the fact that if they survived this then she would not be going back to the only home she had ever known.
Instead, she would press on to follow her destiny just as Kathryn was doing now, but unlike her cousin, Magdalene was doing so willingly, knowing that she had no clue what awaited her, but this was the path that the stars had plotted for her.
Every Blackmoore had a role to play in the Legacy and the eventual resurrection of the Dark God of the Wood.
This was her path-her turn of the cards-and she could fight against it or embrace it and fall into it without trepidation. In the end it would happen. The fates would not be denied, and the Legacy would demand adherence. She was seeing it played out at this very moment. Everything that was happening with Kathryn, it could not be escaped by running away. It would be waiting for her, right around the corner, ready to punish her for having such hubris that she could just turn her back on it.
That’s why every casual brush of foot against her own filled he
r with regret that was equal to the attraction she felt for him, and each euphoric tremor inside her body was followed quickly by this sadness, both feelings following behind one another like fallen leaves sailing in a rushing stream during the winter.
Every time they looked up at one another with that bright golden light spilling through the windows high above them in the airy library, light that reflected in his dark eyes and made them look like jars of ink, her heart skipped a beat and she found herself biting her bottom lip more than she normally would.
He was so obvious in his attraction for her that Magdalene could divine it in his smile and the way he constantly leaned into her from across the table as if preparing for the inevitable kiss.
There could be no kiss. It wasn’t fair to Richie, and it wasn’t fair to herself. She had to stay devoted to her Loa. She had to be untouched by anyone; it was what she felt deep down. Her commitment to Ogou Feray had to be pure. She had to be committed to the craft in every way.
This was like the priesthood for her, like joining a convent and taking her vows of celibacy, perhaps it would not be forever, but she felt that this was what she needed to do now to keep herself focused and not to become distracted with emotion, vulnerability, and eventual heartbreak.
Richie was a danger to all of that if she allowed herself to forget any of this, even for a moment. A kiss could be the deadliest thing in the world at the moment, a deadly poison that could infect every part of herself and take a piece of her soul.
Love was the most dangerous weapon in the world, and was constantly used as a source of manipulation and shook the very foundations of a person’s world. No. She couldn’t risk that. She couldn’t give Richie that kind of power-that kind of responsibility-not when she had so much that was still required of her.
Better to let him down now than to break his heart later-or hers for that matter-she had never had her heartbroken, like most other women her age already had since high school, and she figured she was too old to experience her first one now, it just seemed like a waste of time and sanity.
“Find anything?” She asked him.
Richie looked up from the book he was reading and gave a shrug. “Typical Christian story about the Nephilim and the Great Flood, nothing that links them to these Anunnaki-you know, other than the whole-angels-slept-with-mortal-women-and-those-angels-were-cast-into-hell-thing.
“But what do they have to do with witches or some ancient evil god... not a thing!” he slammed the book shut and yawned. “You?”
Magdalene gave a smile and a flirtatious nod. “Not a whole lot, but something.”
“Oh, let me see!” Richie got up from his chair and made his way around the table, standing directly behind Magdalene and stretching his arms out along either side of her and spreading his hands out on the table.
She propped the book up and tilted her head, aware of Richie leaning down over her left shoulder. She could smell the scent of his Old Spice and feel his breath against her auburn curls.
“So, the Anunnaki were these demi-gods, like the precursor to angels, or what the angels really are, and they carried out the judgments of the gods, and like the angels destruction of great cities, they were attributed with destroying ancient Sumer with a great flood.
“They were the seven judges who resided in the underworld. Mentions of them are very vague. They just kind of were... children of the god Anu and the goddess Ki.”
“But how does that relate to some god in Ireland?”
Magdalene sighed, trying to ignore the subtle current of lust that moved through her body with his lips so close to her hair. “I don’t know... perhaps it doesn’t matter who the god is or where he comes from, perhaps only that a god called on them to kill Kathryn.”
“Shit.” Richie pulled back, once again standing upright and away from her, and Magdalene felt both a sadness and quick relief at the distance that was once again between them; especially once he walked back round to the chair across from her.
“Yeah...”
Richie slumped back down into the chair and folded his arms across his lean chest. “Real fucking deities walking around and killing people... how the fuck do you even defeat a supernatural being?”
Magdalene brushed her tresses from her face and gave a light grunt. She thought for a moment, thinking about everything that they were, where myth-which was really the history of the divine world-and grinned.
“With another god.”
Sheffield paced the hotel room. He had been sulking and drinking for two hours, and he knew he needed to stop and get his head right. What had he done-kicking Kathryn out like that over something so petty?
It didn’t matter who or what she fucked when they weren’t even together. It was human jealousy and worry of inadequacy and nothing more. He had turned his back on her once again when she needed his support the most.
“Stop fucking failing her!” he said to his reflection. When he looked at himself, he once again saw what he had been seeing for nearly a decade; a man empty and only half alive without her.
He looked at the glass of amber liquor in his hand and shook his head, setting it down on the dresser. He needed to go to her. He needed to be with her and comfort her and protect her. He needed to stand by her side and walk into the darkness together.
The gates of hell may have opened, and these dark and terrible monsters may have been spat out, but he would find a way to fight back against the shadows or die by her side trying.
She had saved his life that night eight years ago, and now, now it was his turn to save hers. Even at the cost of his own.
Sheffield grabbed his keys and wallet, slamming the door behind him as he left; racing down the hallway towards the elevator. He could feel the dark closing in, and the memories of his nightmares began dancing in his head.
Time was running out, and he needed to get to Kathryn as fast as he could, before this darkness swallowed the world whole.
XVII
Kathryn had laid there for several moments, watching the light shift across the white ceiling. She had felt herself falling, had felt the stone connect with the side of her face, and then like a bad dream, her eyes had opened and the world had felt as if it were spinning.
She had felt for a scar on her forehead-certain that there would be one from the impact-but to her relief there had been none. She was alone in the room. Kuri was gone as if he had never been there, the only sign of him had been the sliding door that was still open wide, and the dress that was butterflied and laying open to expose her naked body.
There’s no way out of this... she could feel the tears begin to well, to make their way up from her chest and stop in her throat. She would choke them back, no matter what it took. She would not give in to the sense of hopelessness she felt deep inside.
“I can’t go out like this.” Kathryn sat up and walked over to her closet, grabbing another black dress and stepping into a pair of buckled ankle boots while she lit a cigarette and tousled her dark auburn mane.
She kept her eyes locked on that patio door. There was no point in locking it now. She had already invited him in-breaking the barrier that she had cast. She would have to do the spell all over again, and now there was no point.
She walked out of the room and down the darkening hall, listening for other voices-other signs of life within the bungalow, but there was none.
“Still alone,” she said with a sigh of relief. She wouldn’t tell Sheffield of what she had done. There was no need. The only way she would have discovered all that she had learned was if she had done exactly what she did. It was the only way she would have gotten what she needed from Kuri.
Fucking him was the only way that he would have given her all that he did. There was still no answer in regards to Angelina and what they had done with her, but something inside of her told her that she would find out soon enough.
Kuri was a man of his word. Perhaps even as a supreme entity that was beyond the spirits of the dead or the demons of hell, he still
had a sense of honor. It seemed so crazy, and yet she knew it to be true.
Kathryn poured herself a glass of water and took a seat at the table. She thought of the strange book with its impossible glyphs and began to wonder how it could be used against them.
Could she threaten them with its destruction? Could she hold it over their heads and perhaps offer them a trade for her life? It seemed far-fetched, but at this point it appeared to be the only thing she had to go with.
“I get it okay? I get it!” she shouted to the empty room, thinking of the Legacy, of all of the Blackmoores who came before her and all of the lovers lost to their curse, a curse that had been born in the very act of passion itself. “I won’t fight against it anymore... just please, guide me... tell me what to do! Help me!”
Kathryn sat in silence, listening for some kind of spiritual whisper, some sort of divine voice that would speak quietly in the recesses of her soul. But there was nothing. No inner voice, no ethereal echo to quell her fearful heart.
Her eyes began to gloss over, her vision misting, and Kathryn failed to swallow them down, there seemed to be no one listening, and she realized that perhaps, like all Blackmoores, she was utterly alone in this.
The sound of the lock turning and the door yawning open as it skirted across the floor brought Kathryn out of her despair and she wiped the tears quickly from her eyes and threw back the rest of the water in her glass.
“Kathryn, you here?!” Magdalene called.
“We’ve got some information!” Richie followed behind her.
They turned and looked at her, standing so close to one another that Kathryn couldn’t help but think how great they looked together. She wished that Magdalene would allow herself to be with him, but she could see the look on her cousin’s face, and it told her that she would never give in to her own human passions.
“I have some information as well.”