by Bill Bennett
So here they all were now, sitting in the dusty canteen by lamplight, knocking back longnecks, waiting for the big show to start; and by that she meant the big celestial show in the heavens above, which they could view from outside the building when it came time. She might even be able to see some of what was going to happen up top of Black Mountain through her binoculars, but if she got caught spying, then the fallout from that wouldn’t be pleasant either.
She looked over at KJ, laughing with Andi and Bess, sitting back relaxed, as though he belonged. She still wasn’t sure what his game was. She’d been surprised at his reaction when Andi attacked that doctor’s car, sending it over the cliff. He’d been shocked and didn’t speak to anyone for a long time after. He didn’t join in with their later gleeful chattering about how cool it had been, seeing the car bang and crash its way down the cliff, then to cap it all off, the fireball. And then after a while when he did join in, his joviality seemed forced, as though he was masquerading his true feelings of disquiet at the death of the two men inside.
Perhaps she was overreacting. Perhaps underneath it all he was just a sensitive kid – he was still a teenager after all – and maybe when that car went over the cliff that had been the first time he’d ever seen anyone die. Kritta smiled to herself. He’d soon get used to it. And she was sure that it wouldn’t take long before he enjoyed it, like she did.
Kritta remembered her first few weeks and months in Baphomet, when she was unsure about the whole thing. Tentative. No, the kid was all right. He could be trusted. He had an innate simmering inclination to evil that she could sculpt and mould. Crazy shit, like they said. Perhaps together they could become a powerful team. She chuckled at the image of the two of them at a disturbance, side by side, and their height difference. Tiny and tall. Petite and muscular. They would be remembered, that’s for sure.
‘It’s getting a bit cold,’ Kevin Johnstone said, getting up from his chair and unwinding to his full height. He stretched and his t-shirt rode up. Kritta found herself staring at a briefly exposed section of his stomach, ribbed like a rack. She felt excitement thrum through her.
‘I’m going to get my jacket from the car.’
He walked out, and Kritta couldn’t keep her eyes off him and the way his hips swayed as he left the canteen. She finally dragged her gaze away, and saw that her two familiars were staring at her, Andi in particular fuming. She and Andi had had an occasional thing together and she knew her familiar was jealous of the boy.
Kevin walked back to the car. It was dark near the admin building. Even though there was a generator that supplied power to the whole complex, all but the most essential lights had been turned off so that everyone could clearly see the celestial star-storm that was soon about to break.
There were campfires still, scattered around the mine site, and the odd van with people sitting outside by battery-powered lamps. Not everyone had gone up top to the mountain – only the adepts and masters. Their spouses, partners and other lesser-ranked Baphomet witches had stayed back and were lying on camp-beds or banana chairs, preparing to watch the heavenly show with their phones ready to record the historic event.
Kevin walked up to his car, opened the front passenger’s door and, instead of reaching in and grabbing his jacket, he popped the lid to the glove compartment and pulled out the case that contained the Baphomet knife that he’d taken from his father. The Expunger, the cop had told him. Stab someone through the heart with this knife, and it expunges their soul once and for all. They will not only die, their soul will be extinguished. Expunged.
He opened the case by unlocking the two silver goat-horn clasps and looked down at the magical knife. He picked it up, gripped its handle. It felt like it belonged in his hand. He cut the air with the blade. It was exquisitely balanced. He smiled. He wedged the knife under his belt, closed the case and put it back in the glove compartment, silently closed the car’s door and walked off towards the main camping area where the stay-behind witches were waiting for the star-show.
He worked the shadows, moved silently, and fortunately everyone was outside in groups talking in subdued tones, so they didn’t notice him going to their vehicles parked out back, opening trunks, rifling through bags and luggage, slipping into vans. Finally, in the bedroom closet of a large RV, he found what he was looking for – a spare set of ceremonial Baphomet robes, along with the cord and other regalia. He didn’t know how to tie the cord, and what the colours of the robe signified, but it had a large hood, his face would be hidden and he hoped it would get him up to where he wanted to go – to the top of the black mountain.
CHAPTER 45
The Grand Master looked up to the huge dark moon, hanging like a gigantic shadowed orb above the ceremonial site, and his heart lifted. He could feel the lunar forces starting to gather and swell. Somewhere in the blackest heavens of the darkest night, a celestial storm unlike anything they’d ever witnessed was about to unleash its cosmic fury.
He looked across and saw the Fallen Priest slowly and reverentially take the onyx-hilted blade, the Soul Cutter, from its golden stand. Turning, he offered it to the assembled witches, and calling out in a rasping voice hundreds of years old, he said, ‘Blessed be the Blade that breaks the Eternal Wheel of Life!’
The witches called back, ‘Blessed be the Blade of Souls!’
He then offered the sacred blade to the new moon and in a loud beseeching voice, he cried, ‘Darkest moon of blackest night, by moonray’s silvered shaft of power, by rushing wind and leaping fire, from starry realms above and beyond, thou who by noon of night doth reign, by howl of wind doth rule, by wrath of storm doth command, invest this weak steel with thy power and thy might, that these unworthy souls should seek the knowledge of Our Mystery of all Mysteries, the Beast of Horned Beasts, invest thy Might!’
The circle of witches stepped forward one pace and cried out, ‘Invest thy Might!’
Above them, the moon reached its zenith and became full dark. The meteor storm erupted in an explosion of celestial fireworks that lit the heavens. The night was suddenly alive with a cacophony of streaking light.
From outside the circle of firelight, Olivier nudged Marley urgently. ‘They’re about to kill them. We have to do something.’
‘Do what exactly? No, we wait.’
Olivier cursed under his breath.
Lying prone on the altar, the charm throbbing hot against her heart, Lily could wait no longer.
Using her photo-brain she recalled a spell from The Book of Light. A simple spell – which her ancestors had called a ‘quicken spell’. She wasn’t sure if it would work, how long it would last, or whether she’d even be able to cast it. But she had to try.
The Fallen Priest turned back to Angela Maguire, holding the Soul Cutter with both hands. He looked up into the night skies to take in the full power of the cosmic storm, then he slowly raised the needle blade high above her head, about to plunge it deep into the wretched woman’s third eye.
Lily invoked the spell.
Her heart began to race. Blood rushed through her veins. Her muscles twitched with a newfound strength. Her mind was clear but her thoughts ran fast. Very fast.
She sprang off the table.
In one fluid movement so swift she was a blur, she grabbed the large ceremonial sword from the altar, swivelled and leapt high with perfect aikido mastery, and plunged the double-edged blade deep into the Fallen Priest’s heart.
He stared at her, momentarily confused.
The circle of witches looked on stunned, not sure what was happening. What to do. Afraid to move without a command.
Lily pulled the sword out and twirled like a warrior dancer, flashing the blade in the firelight, and faced the Grand Master. He was shocked, confused. How had the girl managed to wake? How could she possibly move so fast?
He reached for his wand but out in the shadows, on the edge of the clearing, Olivier suddenly stood, picked up a rock and hurled it with full force. It struck the Grand Master in the face,
just above his eye. He staggered back, clutching at where the rock had hit, yelling out in fury. What was happening? This made no sense.
‘Come,’ Olivier said and held out his hand to Marley. Together they ran, keeping to the shadows, circling around, staying out of sight of the witches who were staring at what was happening around the altar, dumbstruck, unmoving.
Lily stepped forward to the Grand Master and lunged with the blade but he ducked, grabbing his wand from beneath his robes. He levelled it at her but she was no longer there. She’d done an aikido roll and was now on the other side of him, her sword raised, about to thrust it into his chest.
But a movement behind caught her eye. She swung around. The Fallen Priest was still alive. How could that be? And he was about to jam the Soul Cutter into her mother’s forehead.
‘No!’ Lily screamed.
The priest, with teeth gritted and his eyes ablaze, thrust the sword down. Lily moved like a streak of light. She flung herself at him, knocking him off his feet before the needle point touched her mother’s skull. The Soul Cutter clattered to the ground as Angela stirred.
‘Stop her!’ the Grand Master shrieked, pointing to Lily. The witches, who’d been watching in a stunned stupor, rushed at her with their daggers and swords.
Lily rolled under the altar, moving like the wind. She disappeared amid the smoke from the cauldrons. The witches halted, momentarily confused, looking around for her. Then they spun around fast when they realised she was now behind them. In a movement so fast it was barely visible, Lily picked up a salt bowl from the altar, emptied it and used it as a scoop to fling blazing coals from the cauldron onto the now advancing witches. They fell back screaming, flaying at their burning clothes and searing flesh.
Lily couldn’t believe what she was doing. It was like she was functioning outside of herself, as though this wasn’t really her but someone else, attacking the country’s most powerful and dangerous witches with no thought to her own life. And moving so fast and with such strength. Had the initiation imbued her with these powers? Or was it the Cygnet charm and the quicken spell? It didn’t matter. She had to keep the witches at bay long enough for her to figure out how to get her mother to safety.
She sensed him coming up fast behind her.
She twirled around as the Fallen Priest sprung at her with the Soul Cutter, aiming its needle blade right between her eyes. In a lightning move, she dropped to the ground as he rushed in and caught him with her legs, which she scissored hard so that he tumbled and sprawled face down onto the ground. The Soul Cutter flew into the air in an arc, dropping down and hitting a rock and snapping the needle clean off the blade.
The priest looked at the broken blade in disbelief. Without the long stiletto needle, he couldn’t penetrate the third eye and extract their souls. For him, the night was now over. The celestial storm had peaked. His window of opportunity had passed. There was no way he could now deliver up their souls to the Two Evil. Not tonight.
‘Police! Hold it right there!’ Marley and Olivier stepped out of the shadows, guns trained on the Fallen Priest. He turned to them and threw back his head and laughed. It was a laugh that seemed to come from the earth beneath them, the stars above them, cold and mirthless and full of all things evil and old.
Lily stared in amazement at Marley, thinking, What’s she doing here? Whatever. She’s here, to help me – that’s cool!
The Fallen Priest, still laughing demonically, made a swift theatrical gesture with his hand, intoned a few words from an unknown language, then he vanished into the night. Olivier and Marley watched him go, Marley astonished. They turned to the Grand Master who picked up his double-bladed athame, raised it above his head and shouted to the circle of witches, ‘In the name of the Two Evil!’ It was a call, a shriek, to battle.
Olivier, Marley and Lily quickly shifted so that they stood back to back to back in a circle, as the witches began to move in, some levelling their wands, others with their daggers out, ready to attack. Their hoods shadowed their faces, so only the pin-pricks of light from their gleaming eyes were visible and the faintest outlines of cruel sneering mouths.
The two cops had their weapons raised, each sweeping their aim in an arc. But there were too many witches for them to cover completely and Marley was aware that they only had a limited amount of ammo.
The effects of the quicken spell were starting to wear off on Lily. She suddenly felt lethargic, slow in her thoughts and movements. She closed her eyes and tried to summon up the last of her energies and harness her swiftly diminishing powers.
Please, please, Goddess Artemis, don’t abandon me. Give me the strength to complete this. I have to get my mother away from here. Just a little more –
There was a sudden loud explosion behind the witches, and an eruption of purple flame that took the shape of a gigantic swan, a huge fiery creature, like something sculpted out of an inferno. It began to advance on them.
Confused, the witches fell back.
But the Grand Master stepped forward, and with a shouted spell and an angry gesture with his sword, the flame suddenly died, revealing Freddie where the swan had been.
Lily saw him amid the dying flames and her heart leapt.
Uncle Freddie, you ROCK!
Olivier nodded. ‘I knew it,’ he said to Marley. ‘He’s a super-witch.’
The Grand Master charged, bellowing in rage. Freddie swiftly took out his wand and tried to cast a quick spell, but he had no power left. The travel, and the flaming swan, had depleted him. It was like he was shooting blanks.
The Grand Master swung the sword, but Freddie ducked and it went swishing over his head. He spotted a dropped sword and grabbed it just in time to defend himself against a slash of the Grand Master’s blade as it came down on him hard. Freddie pushed him away but the Grand Master was back on him in a flash, their swords clashing and clanging, sparks flying.
Olivier fired over the heads of the witches. ‘Stand back!’ he shouted. ‘We have back-up on the way! Anyone makes a move, you’re dead.’
‘Don’t give me an excuse to kill one of you assholes,’ Marley yelled, training her weapon on the circle of witches.
She suddenly dropped her handgun and yelled in pain. Her weapon, on the ground, was glowing red with heat. Like one of the burning coals from the cauldron. She looked up – an elderly witch dressed in the robes of a master was pointing his wand at her. His eyes gleamed under his shadowed hood; his thin lips were drawn in a tight grin over yellowing teeth. He then turned his wand to Olivier, who immediately dropped his gun as if he’d been holding a burning brick. He shook his hand and screamed in agony.
The two guns at their feet, pulsing red, began to fire indiscriminately, the heat discharging the rounds. The recoil sent the weapons spinning and jerking into the air, spraying bullets everywhere. One of the shots hit Olivier. He fell to the ground, a bullet wound to his chest. Marley yelled out and rushed to him. A witch fell behind them, the top of his head shot off. Several other witches were hit; some wounded, others killed. The rest scattered.
Lily used the diversion to run to her mother. She tried to lift her up off the table, but she didn’t have the strength. Her mom was too heavy. She closed her eyes, found a stillness within the chaos around her, and brought forth an image: the picture in Luna’s bedroom of the Goddess Artemis on the battlefield, surrounded by carnage, holding up a bloodied sword. Except she, Lily, was the Goddess.
She needed strength. Goddess strength to finish this fight, to fully vanquish the remaining witches, and to take her mom off this terrible mountain, away from this horrible place, back home so they could be together again, just them, like before, just them. But she knew at that moment, in her heart, there would never be a like before. Not now. Like before was no longer possible. Everything had changed. She had changed. Everything would be different. If her mom survived, there would be no more lies. No more deceit. No more living a shadow life. It would be just them, yes, but there would be truth, and strength forged fro
m battle and belief, and she would stand by her mother’s side less a daughter, more an equal.
And in that moment of understanding she felt the Goddess enter her. And she swelled with the power of it. With the certainty of it. Because with that certainty came ownership. She was now an aspect of the Goddess. She owned it. It was hers. She was the Goddess and the Goddess was her. In union. As one.
She heard a growl.
Growls.
Snarling guttural growls.
She snapped open her eyes.
Out of the darkness they came, like golden ghosts, moving through the air like flaming arrows to their targets.
The witches stopped and turned, stunned. They watched in disbelief as the wild cats leapt from the shadows, roaring like a storm wind about to wreak havoc.
The Baphomet witches fled in all directions. The cougars tore after them, pulling them down as they ran, leaping onto their backs, savaging them with slavering jaws that ripped out their throats and hearts as they tried to escape. But there was no escaping these apparitions. Their eyes gleamed yellow in the firelight as they pounced, their teeth dripping blood, their muzzles messy with the debris of death.
The Grand Master clashed swords with Freddie again and again, then seeing the growing carnage around him and realising it was now a lost cause, he pushed Freddie away and quickly disappeared into the shadows and smoke. The altar was burning, the candles had toppled and set the cloth ablaze. Ghostly cats were chasing down screaming witches, grappling them to the ground, crunching into their necks and spines with their powerful jaws.
A few witches were fighting back, using their wands or spells. Lily saw cats hurtling out of the circle, as if catapulted by an invisible machine. Others were wandering aimlessly, like they’d been blinded. Some had been turned into giant toads or rabbits. A few cougars had been spelled into viciously attacking each other, while some were simply suspended in the air, hovering above the melee, watching helplessly.
The Grand Master slunk further back into the dark, then he turned and ran. Lily watched him flee, but then she saw him stop hard at the sound of a loud raw growl. Even from a distance, the growl seemed to shake the earth beneath her feet. It was both a command and a challenge.