Almost Demon (The Sigil Cycle) (19 page)

Floodlights automatically flicked on, one at a time, down the length of the long narrow French-style garden. Walls of neatly manicured hedges surrounding the path were now illuminated in a harsh yellow green light. And at each lamp stood a thick black shadow.

I grabbed the edge of the counter to steady myself. One of the sigil’s on my arm flickered with life. 

What does that mean
?

I wanted to check which one but there was no way I was taking my eyes off the stalker type ghosts that were waiting for me. If I knew what my soul felt like, I could swear on a stack of Bibles that they were trying to draw mine to them.

There was a loud crash behind me and I jumped.

“Hey, chicky.” 

“Ashtaroth?” I asked in confusion.

“Call me Ash,” he said, walking down the length of the granite-topped island until he was beside me and sat down. “Looks like you got yourself a problem.” He pulled a silver case out of the breast pocket of his electric blue overcoat and pulled out a thin white cigarette.

“Gross,” I said, sticking out my tongue.

“Just for show, chicky. I’ve been trying to quit.”

“Can I ask what you’re doing here?”

“I’m here for my prize.”

“Right, the sigil.” I said, wondering how I was going to do it without any outside help.

“Yup. You’re not so dumb for a …” 

“A girl?” 

“Those wouldn’t be my choice of words.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You ready to pay up?”

“Can I say no?”

“Not if you want to sleep tonight.” His smile was more grotesque than I remembered and the odor coming out of his mouth was foul.

“But seriously, why do you need me? Can’t you just do this stuff on your own?” I said, while rummaging through the drawers for paper and a pen.

“Tsk tsk. Your teacher has been censoring your lessons. Angels and demons can’t touch that stuff. Burns and shit like that if we try. We don’t do magic. Our gifts are part of nature. Something the Big Guy gave us,” he said, pointing upwards.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I said, when I found what I needed.

“Abbadon is the name. Death is his game.”

“Ooo scary,” I sang. “Not.”

“You should be scared, chicky. You’ve got no idea what mess you’ve dropped yourself into.”

I closed my eyes to block Ash’s annoying face out of my sight and to picture the sigil wheel. With a few strokes and flourishes, I was done. 

“Here.” I shoved the scrap of paper into his hand. “Now can you leave?”

“Aw. I’m hurt.” He gently folded the paper, tucked it into his pocket, and then stuck the unlit cancer stick in my face. “You’ll be crying for my help soon enough. Don’t forget it.”

With a sudden rush of energy, Ash was sucked back in to the Otherworld and I was once again alone with my thoughts, and a dozen or so evil spooks waiting for me.

It wasn’t a surprise to me that I was the last one to wake. I had waited for the others to fall asleep and checked multiple times to see if Dybbuk still littered the half-acre long expanse of backyard. They were still there. All of them. Waiting. Standing motionless as the smoke within their core roiled. Sleep finally overtook me as the first rays of dawn approached and drifted through the gauzy white curtains of Charlotte’s bedroom.

I took a quick shower, made my way downstairs and followed the sounds of clinking cutlery to the breakfast room, where I found everyone just about to sit down to breakfast and the large bay window framing a pair of Dybbuk like something out of
American Gothic
. 

“Sit down, Gem,” Charlotte said, tapping the empty spot beside her on the built-in.

I tried my best not to look too awkward but I couldn’t help staring at the two ghosts that were peering at us through the thin pane of glass.

“You see something, Gemma?” Morgan asked.

“Nah, just the herd of buffalo coming to get you.” I laughed, piling the french toast and sausage onto my plate.

“Stop it. I really think that happened to me. It must explain my unnatural aversion to animals,” Morgan said matter-of-factly as she attempted to section a grapefruit without squirting juice in her face.

“I just wanted to thank the three of you for coming over. I know I usually get ridiculous on my birthday but it didn’t feel right this year.” Charlotte voice trailed as she took my hand and I knew that I wasn’t the only one who had lost something. Everyone around me had lost someone. A friend. A crush. A classmate. A teammate. I was starting to realize that for the last few months, I had been internalizing my grief while those around me were losing one more person. Me.

“Thanks Charlotte. You’re the perfect hostess. Martha Stewart style,” I said.

We then all belted out an off-key version of “Happy Birthday” while Morgan pulled out a dark chocolate cake from the fridge and lit a sparkler. And for once I let myself enjoy the moment.

I followed Morgan and Emma out onto the porch after saying a big goodbye and thank you to Charlotte. Her mother’s Mercedes was just pulling into the two-car garage. 

“Thank God.” Emma laughed.

“I know, right?” Morgan said. “She is like the hardest person ever to make small talk with.”

“Give her a break. She’s married to the Senator,” I replied.

They both cringed and Emma wrapped a fake noose around her neck.

“Need a ride?” Morgan asked.

“No, it’s alright. It’s nice enough to walk. Need to keep the leg moving.” I smiled, knowing full well that for days, my bones had never felt better and that my skin was still smooth as a baby’s behind but I had reached my fill of socializing and was anxious to hear back from Thom.

With my duffel at my back, I started the trip back home and as Morgan’s car drove past me, two Dybbuk slipped in through the partially open window.

Just great. Maybe I should try to stop them. And then what? Tell them two evil souls are about to take possession of their bodies? 

I continued on my own, thinking about what I could have possibly said last night to freak Sylvia out. The others seemed to think that I had put them on. About half way through my walk, my cellphone buzzed from my jacket pocket.

Ian: Hey.

Me: Hey. What’s up?

Ian: What are you doing tonight?

Me: No plans. On my way home from Charlotte’s.

Ian: Had fun?

Me: Yeah. 

Ian: Want to go out with me later?

Me: Sure.

Ian: K.Is seven a good time?

Me: Yeah. What did you have in mind?

Ian: You ;)

Me: No really. Where are we going?”

Ian: My favorite place. Wear something special.

My smile was still plastered on my face when I walked through the front door and greeted my father. “Hey Dad.”

He grunted in response from amidst a mountain of papers. Usually, he worked through reams of lab results and testing questionnaires. Today, the Moab Lab stationary had been pushed aside and replaced by large maps and land surveys.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Quiet,” he barked. I took note of the word Harrisport in the legend and the smattering of color-coded stickers in various positions. Not wanting the shadow inside him to rear its ugly head, I withdrew to the security of my bedroom.
Bad cop is back
.

As I dumped my dirty laundry in the hamper, a familiar rumbling out on the street had me rushing to the window and seeing if it was possible. Thom had parked his motorcycle behind a tree and was striding up the driveway.
A man on a mission
.

Instead of heading towards the door, I watched as he got closer to my bedroom window. He waved and then headed to the side of the house, which sent me scrambling to put on my sneakers. I gave my hair a quick check in the mirror and stuck my tongue out at the piece in the back that refused to lie back.

“I’m going for my run,” I said to my dad in passing. The kitchen, living, and dining rooms were now a full-blown mess. He looked up from his work and I saw the darkness had returned. I didn’t wait for him to respond and jogged to the forest trail, hoping that when I returned, his mood had passed.

As I turned the bend, it caught me by surprise that Ghosty had joined Thom in the center of the chamber circle. 

“Hey, what are you two chatting about?”

“Very funny,” Thom answered. “I brought the grimoire. Turns out our best bet is to summon Ronwe. He is the studious type so may be more inclined to share knowledge. We should move elsewhere.” He picked up his satchel and handed me the bag of goodies that had gone unused the previous day.

“There’s a place about ten minutes away. I go there sometimes to think. It’s secluded enough.” 

“Lead the way.” 

We continued passed the dirt path and into the forest itself. I knew the way in the dark. We passed a denser thicket of trees, the branches reaching out like the limbs of old ladies, until the earth beneath us became rockier and more and more sky appeared overhead. When we passed the last of the tall pines and spruce, we walked single file along the rock face of one of Mohonk’s larger peaks until, at last, we reached my cave.

“Haven’t been here in a while,” I said.

“Quite a bit of firsts we’re sharing, huh?” His response was so innocent but the words sent my mind racing into fantasies that I needed to hold back. 

Think of Ian. He’s hot. He’s my age. He’s not a pain in the ass.

“I usually keep a lantern in here. Let me check.” I took a few steps into the cave and blindly reached down for the LED camping light. When my toe kicked at something and it rang metallic, I knew I had found it and groped for the handle. I pulled it up and turned the knob, filling the small den with a dim white light.

Shadows danced across the wall, playing along the rise and fall of crevices along the ancient limestone. Evidence of interlopers was strewn across the floor in the form of empty water bottles and cigarette butts. 

“I’ll set up. You stay put,” Thom said, arranging five red pillar candles around me in a circle. 

“Shouldn’t I be working on the sigil?”

“Not yet. I’m taking some extra precautions. Let me finish the protection circle first. Then we’ll give it a go.”

Just then my phone buzzed. Thinking it might be Ian, I checked my texts. What I found instead was a message from the local emergency broadcasting system.

NYSYS: Tornado watch in effect for Orange, Sullivan, and Ulster counties 2 p.m. 

The current time glowed at the top of the screen. 12:30.

“Thom, we should probably hurry up.” I passed him my phone and he replied with a harrumph. “Nope. Doesn’t faze you? Not a bit?”

“You’ll be back in your jimjams and under the covers before it hits,” he replied while pouring a barrier of salt just beyond the flickering candles. 

When did he light those?

The cave was bathed in a subtle warm glow and I looked around, trying to remember my last visit here. 

It was for sure B.A.
File it under the same category, as I can’t remember the last time I was alone with Brian
.

“There,” Thom said and handed me a photocopied sheet of Ronwe’s page in the grimoire.

“Where’s the book?” I asked.

“Didn’t want to be seen lugging it about,” he replied and passed me a pen and leaf of parchment.

“But I need the sigil key.”

“Pish posh. You can do it on your own now.” It didn’t sound like there was any room for arguments. 

“Alright.” I groaned and placed the tip of the pen to the paper. Before starting any of the markings, I closed my eyes and tried to search for the pattern in my mind. Slowly, the black fuzz cleared away, bringing into focus the flickering memory I had of the rosette until the pattern was as solid as could be. With my eyes still shut, I circled the letters. R.O.N.W.E. Then, with a flourish, I connected the power bearing letters to one another. When I surveyed my work, I was proud to see that my lines were no longer rough and jagged with inexperience.

“Good work,” Thom said from his perch atop a smooth natural outcrop of stone that made the perfect bench. “Continue.”

“I’m confused.” I turned to him. The shadows were playing across the rugged planes of his face, casting a sinister glow. “Why the solo act?”

“You need to learn. I won’t always be here.”

“Are you leaving or something?”

“Don’t worry. Not yet. But it would be reckless of me to leave you with only a hint of what’s needed. You must get a feel for the entire process. Next time I expect you to prepare the circle,” he replied. 

I checked the parchment once again and, trusting my instincts, added two small crescents before tossing it into the salt-lined indentation before me. Having trouble making out the incantation, I lifted the page closer to my face and recited the prayer.

“I call upon you, Ronwe. I summon you, Ronwe.”

What appeared before us was no larger than a garden gnome with a torso covered in green and black scales. Instead of hair, flexible black quills protruded from his scalp and settled in a dark heavy mass beneath his shoulders, framing his red-skinned face. He wore a sleeveless shirt of mail, edged by a mass of long turkey feathers that stopped at his knees. When he pulled one leg behind him in a deep bow, I noticed that his legs were made of pure bone. His foot scratched against the floor like the talons of a predator. 

“How may I serve?” Sarcasm dripped from his mouth, which I didn’t think would make for an auspicious encounter. When he straightened, he caught sight of Thom and froze. “
Yip!
What are you doing here?”

“Please address your mistress,” Thom said in return.

“Duly noted. But I do require payment.”

“Naturally,” Thom said, his smile anything but natural.

“So what will it be?” I asked.

“Parchment and quills.” He rubbed his two bony hands together in anticipation

“That’s pretty ordinary. Can’t you go to the demon supermarket for that stuff?”

“Do not mock me. I seek nothing save knowledge.”

“Sure, you got it. Put ‘er there.” I extended my hand and we shook on it. “I hope you have another stash of parchment I can borrow, Thom.”