The Reaper Chronicles, page 14
I’m down on the ground pawing through the pages while Anthony is back on his feet and using the sword to keep the two hellhounds at bay.
“Hellhounds. Hellhounds,” I yell. The pages refuse to move. Anthony stumbles back and nearly trips over me.
“Do something.”
“Weakness. What are their weaknesses?”
The pages shuffle and turn. I don’t even look at the spell but read the words that flash before me. I feel something drop on my shoulder. It’s white, and I think it’s snow. “What?”
“It’s salt. They hate salt.”
It must be true because the hellhounds retreat a few steps. Every bit of salt that touches their skin sizzles as it embeds itself in their fur. The line of salt extends across the ground as far as I can see and beyond.
“They won’t cross it.”
“We should run.” I set off, and we reach the Porsche when the first howl hits the air.
Becca stirs in the back seat. “You guys were gone so long.” She yawns. “I took a nice, long nap.”
“Drive.” I thump the console, ignoring her.
Anthony floors it. I stare into the darkness. There’s nothing but a moon-soaked sky above and a dark forest surrounding both sides of the road. I cannot see one house for the life of me. The Porsche hits 80 MPH as we cruise back to Salem.
Becca sniffs. “It smells like you were in a fire. What happened?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
They have four souls. My blood is boiling that I haven’t been able to rescue them. That means one last trip to the farm. By last trip, I mean end the witches. I plan to be alive and well after my visit. It also better mean we get there in time. There’s no way I want to fight more zombies and hellhounds. I’ve had my fill of decaying skin, erupting bowels, and flaming death dogs.
No one slept. We returned to the hotel to strategize, change clothes, and fuel up on pizza. Anthony drives at super speed, so I assume he sees the urgency in taking down the enemy before the witches let Lilith’s freak flag fly.
“Do you think Goose could go this fast?” I yawn, covering my mouth as an afterthought.
“What?” he risks a glance away from the road.
“Goose? How fast can a demon go?”
“How should I know?”
“Don’t get cranky. I was just making conversation. I thought you knew all sorts of things, but you seem a little tense. Your shoulders are all hunched and bunchy.” I put a hand up to massage one, and he shrugs me off.
“Saving the world puts me on edge a little, thank you very much. You should feel the same. Do you know what happens if we don’t save the world? Lilith rises. Sure, the witches might be rewarded and sit on the sides of her thrown, but for all the other poor shleps in the world, it’s not going to be nearly as pleasant.”
I cut him off. “You don’t need to mansplain it to me. I get it.” I pause in thought. “Maybe all the mansplaining is one reason the witches are doing this?”
“I don’t think that’s their main motivation.”
“How about after we’re done with the saving the world, we race Goose against your Porsche and see who’s faster. I’m curious.”
He pulls to the side of the road about two blocks from the farmhouse. “We all survive, and you’re on. Now get out. We’re going to hike from here.”
I turn around in my seat and face the back. “Becca, you’re awfully quiet on the matter. Goose or the Porsche? Who’d you bet on?”
Becca mulls it over for a moment. “Goose has a lot of spunk, and I bet he doesn’t like to lose. I’ll put my money on him.”
“Good choice.”
We exit the car. I’ve got my backpack with Grimoire, Anthony his sword, and Becca her spunk. After minutes on the trail, my boots are again covered in slime as I slog through the mud. I stumble, recover, and peer into the emerging light for Ash and Alder. I’m not sure we’re on farm property yet, but I wouldn’t want to add a hellhound bite to all the excitement I’ve had this week. Saving the world is tough stuff.
We hike and hike some more until, across a narrow, rocky lane, a dilapidated shack comes into view.
“This must be the outskirts of their property,” I say. “I don’t think we’ve been here before. “Go ahead, try the door.” I motion to Tony.
With a dramatic sigh, he pushes ahead of me and fumbles with the doorknob.
I’m slightly shocked but not disappointed when there’s no jump scare. The door squeaks open, releasing the moist darkness. Other than that, it remains quiet. The inside appears to be a large potting shed the size of a two-car garage. As we head into the gloom, the interior is lit up by my amulet. I look around. Becca’s necklace and Anthony’s ring burn bright as well. On a small windowsill sit four clear glass bottles. Souls ranging from clear to murky gray are trapped inside.
“We found them. Who would have thunk it.” I move toward the window and grab a bottle. “The bottles are glass. Be careful.”
Becca and Tony pull down the others.
“What do we do with them?” Becca asks.
“We’ll deal with them later. For now, we keep them on us. It’s best to put the souls in different places.” I shove one bottle into my backpack and the other into a pocket. “That way, the witches can’t get them all.”
Once the souls are safely stored away on different people, we trek back to the barn. We aren’t disappointed. Hen’s inside, and Lulu strolls in soon after we arrive. A man sits in the center of the building on a dried-out bale of hay. I step back involuntarily when I see who it is. Daxon is shackled to the spot.
He smiles up at me. I run to him, but about one hundred paces away, my feet stop. I’m unable to take another step.
“What the fuck?” The upper half of my body wobbles, but I still can’t get any closer to Daxon.
Bebe steps into the barn with Alder and Ash and locks the doors. “We thought you needed some additional incentive.” She smiles at me before shifting her gaze. “I see the rest of you are here for some fun.” She gazes at Becca speculatively. “It’s been a bountiful week.” She claps like a little girl waiting for birthday cake. “You’re another interesting specimen. Not as powerful as Freyja but most definitely worth keeping. I can offer you the same deal. Join us and sit at Lilith’s throne or die.”
Becca’s mouth drops open, but words fail her.
“Tick tock. Time’s a-wasting,” Hen says.
“Here’s how this is going to work,” Lulu says. “Hand over the souls you’ve taken.” She whistles, and Alder and Ash crowd Becca and Tony. Alder bites into Becca’s calf.
Becca screams in pain before trying to pull the dog off her leg. When that doesn’t work, her voice subsides into a whimper with fear and pain.
“Was that really necessary?” I ask, my gave shifting between Becca and the dog that still has her leg between its jaw.
“Like I said, it’s an incentive.” Bebe’s gaze shifts from me and finds Anthony. “We don’t care who ends up being soul number five.” Bebe’s gaze roams between Tony and Daxon. “They are both excellent specimens.” She walks to my side. “You do know how to pick them.”
All I can do is nod. I should be horrified, but seeing Daxon tied up has the rage inside me working overtime.
Hen whistles, and Alder and Ash join her.
Becca sinks to the ground, wrapping her hand around her leg. She won’t be running anywhere fast.
“Why don’t you and I take a walk?” Bebe snaps her fingers.
I can move again and oblige her. We head out to the other end of the barn. “We’re so close to starting a new world. It puts me in such a good mood. Hen and Lulu can watch the rest of them and ensure they behave.”
I bob my head, afraid of what might exit my mouth. We walk in silence for a few minutes until we come to a large pond. “I’m going to show you what Lilith’s version of the world looks like. Sit and peer into the water.”
At first, I see shadow and light rising from the depth of the water. Then the water swirls and begins to paint a beautiful picture. It’s indeed a paradise with Lilith high on the throne. I’m enraptured and enthralled by what I see. Little girls play in open fields, running and laughing. Their joy surges through me. Older women work in harmony and happiness, picking fruit from apple and pear trees, kissing in the shade of the pine groves. While I don’t’ see any men, no one in this utopia is the least bit bothered, so I wonder, why should I be?
A small nagging sensation that something is not quite right reminds me of the spell I’d studied one night in the hotel room. The words flood my brain as if on instinct.
* * *
We see the beauty of the world but lack clarity
A tree is a tree
But today, for this hour
I take the sky for mine
The stream for mine
The stars for mine
And for a moment, your eyes for mine
And for a moment, the bird's eyes for mine
Along with the wolves
For a moment, I demand the sun’s view of the earth
Sapere Aude
* * *
The water twists and bends, and a new vision comes to light. Lilith remains on the throne, but the rest of the scene has changed into something out of Hieronymus Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights.
A chosen few naked women frolic in a pond, playing with each other’s hair, braiding strands into unending coils while on land, men in chains groan in pain, shackled together. Other women repose of the ground, men fanning them. Further on the landscape, monsters roam, taking down anyone who dares attempt to rebel. There’s no sound, but my body fills with the anguish and pain of the universe. It hurts so much that I jump back from the vision, closing my eyes against it.
“Once again, you are full of surprises,” Bebe says. “I guess we should get back to the others. You are obviously not going to be persuaded this way.”
I follow her back to the barn, trying to come up with a miracle or at least a strategy. Inside, it’s as if time stood still. Daxon is shackled, sitting on the hay bale, and Anthony and Becca are being guarded by the hellhounds.
“Time to get this show on the road,” Hen says.
“You pick.” Lulu’s gaze is on me. “Who do you want to die to complete the spell and raise Lilith? Will it be the love of your life or your faithful partner that has saved you numerous times and earned your admiration? Tough choice isn’t it, but life is full of tough choices.”
I open my mouth, but words fail me.
“We don’t have all day,” Hen adds. “Pick now, or we’ll pick for you.”
That’s when my night with the spell book comes back. This is war, and I’m starting with the hellhounds. I don’t want to kill them and would love to return them to Death unscathed, but I need to take them down so Tony can be helpful to me. Gaze focused on the angry, drooling beasts, a sleep spell flares behind my eyes. I pray it works on humans and non-human entities alike, unlike the other spell previously attempted.
* * *
Find the edge of the dark
where dreams begin
Look and step there
Enter in unaware
Take down your guarded wall
Be wakeful no more
Enter the gate of death’s pall
Somnus
* * *
The creatures wobble and crash. The witches are momentarily flummoxed but then jump into action. They grab Daxon, who appears barely functional. I wonder how long he’s been trapped here and what they’ve done to him. The thoughts make a red haze of anger flood my vision.
“Daxon it is,” Hen says, and she and Bebe drag him outside.
After our last encounter with the witches, Tony has yet to find his sword. He’s using mine as a stand-in. It’s not like I was any good with it. Now, he grabs it off the ground and runs after the witches, but before he makes it to the door, the wood slams in his face. The three of us and two sleeping dogs are trapped inside the barn. I pray the spell keeps them down for a long while.
Tony hacks away at the wood, leaving barely noticeable scratches.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A spell twists and turns in my brain until I can read the words in my head. “Wait. Let me try something.”
I point my hands at the doors.
Crumble
A fundamental process
Organized decay
From form to dust
Turn to elemental rust
* * *
Collapse
Speed the way
To decay
Swiftly fall
From solid to ash
This I ask
Disrumpo
* * *
The wood cracks and splinters, falling apart before our eyes. I’m outside before the last board splinters to the ground. Rain and hail pelt me. The skies growl louder than the dogs ever could.
I have to find my love.
“I hear a boat,” Tony growls before running toward the river. He’s fast, and it takes a lot to keep up with him. Becca arrives at the river’s edge a minute later. Becca and I are out of breath, gasping for air. Anthony has already started to push a small canoe into the churning waves.
“They're headed for the island,” Becca wheezes and points to what looks like a crop of rocks with a large dead tree in the middle.
“Hop in.” Tony directs us into the canoe.
I stare into the water and wonder if this is the same lake we’ve previously navigated. The choppy waves and murky depths remind me of the ocean during a storm, not a New England lake.
I look out at the witches. Lulu’s gesturing with her hands, and the water under turns murkier as silt and sand funnel up from the depths.
“What now?” I ask.
Anthony focuses on rowing and keeping the small canoe heading for the island.
I hold on to the sides as it begins to tilt like a carnival ride. Something grazes my wrist and then slithers around it. There’s a tug. Another powerful yank heaves me over the canoe edge and into the water.
I swim up to the surface and sputter. Tony has stopped the canoe, but he’s pointing and yelling rather than paddling back to get me.
I twist, treading water, seeing the fin a moment before the creature rises above the waves. The front half is a shark, and the back half is a squid.
I’ve seen Sharknado, Jaws, and The Meg. This thing was worse. Much worse.
It hunched its back like a dog, annoyed and ready to attack.
“Here,” Anthony yells before he throws a knife. I miss it, and the weapon lands in the water. Luckily, I grab it before it sinks. The monster spins. I’m afraid to turn my back on it and swim, so I tread water and listen for Anthony’s paddle strokes, but he’s battling a supernatural current that’s sprung up and refusing to let the canoe draw near.
Pulled straight from murky depths of deep-water hell, this is a damn big shark-squid-monster—somewhere around fifteen feet. I watch its head rise out of the water, its jaws wide open, white teeth bigger than my fist, littered with bits of its former meals.
There’s a splash in front of me. Becca has thrown an old cooler from the canoe, trying to hit the monster on its deformed, razor-toothed snout. I appreciate the attempt, but her aim is awful, and it misses. Without stopping, the shark-squid grabs and lifts the container out of the water, shaking it like a dog would shake at a bone before flinging it away.
The world goes silent as the creature submerges beneath the churning waves. I wonder if Death will greet me when I die by this horrendous hand, I mean tentacle. An immense force strikes my back, and I’m pulled under when sharp teeth sink into my leg. Since the creature is not of this earth, I wonder if its bite is poisonous as well as painful. When I scream, I take in a mouthful of muddy water. The shark-squid releases me. A moment later, I’m grabbed once again by its tentacles. It drags me through the water so quickly I feel like I’m in a car crash and going to suffer from whiplash as I’m thrashed back and forth in its grip. I’m shocked when it releases me. I’m close to the island, but the monster isn’t done. Between razor-sharp mega teeth, a tongue covered with smaller teeth emerges, ready to slice and dice me into a meal.
I haul my bloody and beaten self up on a rock. Though out of the water, I’m not safe. I see the canoe in the distance, Anthony paddling tirelessly to get to me. I’m puffing hard, breathing like a steam train, beginning to hyperventilate, heart banging in my chest, blood running down my leg.
The shark-squid launches out of the water, flying at me, and lands on a rock to my right. I’m still somehow grasping the rather large, serrated bowie knife Antony threw me and protect my body with it as the monster rages. Squid tentacles propel the creature on land, and it lurches forward. Lifting the knife higher, I slash at its demon snout to fend it off. My knife makes a shallow cut, a tiny slice of red on the massive beast, so insignificant I doubt it felt anything.
The knife will not save me, but it’s all I have. The shark-squid rears up again on its tentacles and lashes out with a long limb, sending me flying among the rocky island shore. A grunt of pain escapes when my back hits the jagged stone. The knife clatters in between the rocks, lost.
Witch magic burns in my soul and tells me this is not my time to die.
The spell comes out of my mouth without hesitation, muscle memory from the generations of witches before me.
Some die by gun or blade
Some die silently in bed alone
Some die desperately wanting to forget
Some die suddenly unable to postpone
No matter how, no matter why, no matter what
Death is final animam agere.
* * *
An unholy scream issues from the monster’s mouth. Its skin begins to peel back on itself, and it slowly sinks into the water that now churns red with blood. When the creature rises to the surface this time, its head lolls to the side.
