How not to interpret love

“Hannah… I’m sorry about last night. I can’t tell you how bad I feel; how I manipulated you..” It had taken a lot of courage to speak to her. He’d already sacrificed too much  but the look in her eyes was one of bewilderment and trepidation; not horror and betrayal.

“What?” She asked, taking a step away from him. “It is Mark, isn’t it?” She didn’t even wait for him to answer, just looked at her two friends and shrugged. Luckily they were all alone in the office kitchen. The friends grimaced back. “I'm sorry but I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was in London with.. “ She gestured to the two ladies next to her. “All weekend…”

Doug backed off, bewildered. He tried laughing at his stupidity as he inched his way to the door. One of the other girls asked if he was alright and as he opened the door he heard the other say, “so that’s the weirdo.”

He didn’t even bother going back to his desk. Something was very wrong. Hannah should have been angry; livid with him; but she wasn’t even the least bit inquisitive. She was, however, bound to talk to the rest of the office now about their encounter. Doug  was already seen as strange; an oddball recluse and this would compound it; possibly even leading to gross sexual misconduct!

But Hannah knew nothing about it. Doug had heard that severe trauma could bring on a form of amnesia but surely that was only in the films? He had to get home; find the web-page with the Incantation on and try to understand what had gone wrong?!

He walked to the train station, finally managed to get the ticket into the machine -for some reason his hands had started to shake, He stood on the platform and then realised his legs had become spongey as if the bones had been taken out He managed to sit on the seat and not make it look like he was drunk. The platform was still wet from an earlier shower and there was steam coming off the rails, leaving a gritty ozone smell behind. 

There was a muffled and nasal retort as another high-speed train was coming through. Doug had spent so long at various stations he could tell where all the ‘joins’ were in the announcement. There was some poor voice-actress who had to read out every time and every place name; and some key phrases; and then the computer put them together as and when the need arose. 

When the announcement halted Doug counted to seven before the train doppled past. The sub-sonic crash mili-seconds before the train bulleted through; each window offering a possible glimpse into the stations present and future. For a split second Doug thought he saw Hannah standing next to him, dressed similar to how she was last night: green, flowing trousers; a white blouse with lacework around the buttons and cuffs; her hair long and straight… But when he turned around there was no one there. There was one other thing; it was the glimpse of her smile. It seemed knowing and malevolent.

Whilst on the train home a similar thing happened travelling through the tunnel which bisected the South Downs. The new trains felt so exposed now. Gone were the cramped but discreet seating with the static-producing seats and cumbersome doors. Now everything felt open plan and no one felt safe to look up from what they were doing. Everyone seemed to suffer from agoraphobia. But there was plenty of glass dividing the seats now; not the wooden barriers separating one bank from another; but this created lots of reflective surfaces, and when the train delved into the tunnel the lights flickered and he saw again Hannah’s form, flickering in various windows. But Doug knew Hannah drove to work and would never have taken this particular train anyway as it went in the opposite direction to her home.

He finally got back to his flat, constantly checking around him and paying particular attention to shop windows and their reflections, but nothing untoward happened. As he thought, the flat was a complete mess. The kitchen was pretty untouched but the rest of it looked as if it had been burgled! It had been a wild weekend; tentative at first but increasing in intensity as it had progressed; and there had been no end to Hannah’s desires for him. He turned his Chromebook on, entered his password and found the web page with the text he had spent the whole previous week researching about:

“Animum tuum mihi vinculo perpetuo carnis ligo.”... ok, well that meant: “I bind your heart to me in eternal passion.” He read further. “Veni ad me, pulchra desiderii inferni.” well, even that was pretty easy to decipher: “Come to me, beauty of my desire.” and the last bit; “Devoret me totum spiritus ardens amoris.” which meant: “May you be consumed entirely by your devotion to me.” And on Friday he had finally made the translation; or at least he had found a website to do it for him. The hardest part would have been trying to find things intimate to Hannah in order to bind her to him, however the text also said that it wasn’t necessary as long as you had their photo which you could hold up to a mirror whilst reciting the spell. 

It was also customary to masturbate whilst chanting and thinking of the object of desire; then anointing not the photo but the reflection of the photo with the split semen.  The results wouldn’t necessarily be instantaneous but within 24 hours, which gave Doug a chance to have a scrub-down and make himself presentable.

Part of him was still worried that he had taken things this far. He was a ‘regular guy’; lonely, bordering on desperate, if he was being honest with himself; but had never wanted to do anything immoral. He had a shaky grasp of occultism and used to enjoy reading copies of ‘The Unexplained’ magazine as a child. 

And he would never have considered Hannah as a particular love-interest had it not been for the Christmas party. It had been the first one he’d ever been to and was shy; barely talked to anyone and hadn’t danced all night… That is until Hannah offered him her hand for the last slow dance of the evening. It was obvious that she was more than a little drunk, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so Doug finally agreed. He understood how Carrie felt during her first dance at the prom in the film of the same name; it felt as if the world was revolving around him and Hannah, and no one else existed. Her hair smelled of lavender and his hands around her waist felt exquisite. He couldn’t sleep that night and became infatuated with her… but she never remembered the dance and would never meet his eye again whenever they shared a lift or stood in the office kitchen.

So Doug became desperate. To have been given this chance, even such a small one; only for the happiness to be snatched away again, and not even remembered, was almost too much for him to bare. And it was then that he recalled the love potions; it would be possible to bind her to him, for just a little while so she could understand how much she truly loved him… and that maybe he wasn’t such a weirdo after all.

And he was so sure he’d gotten the incantation right…. It seemed perfect at first. The day afterwards he was browsing in his local bookshop, in the New Age section, and suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and Hannah was beaming at him as if he were a long lost friend. “I didn’t know you had an interest in ‘weird shit’!” She remarked. Doug was bemused and totally out of his comfort zone, didn’t know what to say. “That’s what I call all this occult stuff: weird shit." She continued. "It helps to keep a sense of humor about things. Take things too seriously and you don’t know how messed up you'll become…”

She talked for ages about manifesting destiny and ‘The Secret’ before asking if he wanted to have a coffee. He could only agree and was literally swept off his feet by her. Doug couldn’t believe how well the spell had worked! There was no initial hesitancy, which had been his first quandary: how to initiate contact with Hannah, but she was doing all the heavy lifting here; it was amazing. Coffee turned into supper, which turned into a shared taxi back to his place and a nightcap… followed by the most intense and passionate lovemaking he had ever experienced. None of the films he’d watched had ever girded him for the sheer depth of desire he felt for her; all of which seemed to be reflected tenfold in her.

She left sometime in the early morning and the flat was a mess. He was far too tired upon getting up, and he ached as well - his groin felt numb with overuse…. 

But he racked his brains about this morning: Hannah had no recollection of what had happened. What was going on? He read the Latin again, and then re-translated words. Something was wrong and he couldn’t figure it out. He copied the Latin and pasted it this time into Google Translate and what he saw stunned him completely:

“Animum tuum mihi vinculo perpetuo carnis ligo - I bind a spirit to myself for eternal flesh.

“Veni ad me, pulchra desiderii inferni. - come to me, beautiful-demon of the abyss.

“Devoret me totum spiritus ardens amoris - May I be consumed entirely by a devastating spirit."

This wasn’t a love spell that he’d created -the fact that there wasn’t anything to bind Hannah to him should have been the obvious clue! The only rational conclusion was that he had created a Tulpa…. A thought form made entirely of his lust; and because he had anointed this reflection it had taken the form of Hannah. This meant that he actually hadn’t forced the real Hannah to do anything! He hadn’t coerced her in any way; no psychological mind-fucks and, more importantly, no statutory rape; which was the worst case scenario had things come to light.  Doug was so relieved by this that he actually turned the Chromebook off, walked to the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee.

Consequently, when he met 'Hannah' in the same section of the bookstore later on that day he was relieved and more than a little turned on. It helped that she was dressed far more provocatively than Hannah ever would, almost as if she knew that he had seen through her disguise now.

Hannah had been everything that he had ever lusted after in a woman. She was tall, thin without being anorexic, long straight black hair and high cheekbones which elevated her smile to the divine. This 'Hannah' was wearing long trousers and a tight, white blouse which was semi-translucent and showed off her shapely breasts. Again they were not overly large but perfectly in proportion to the rest of her. She also wore circular glasses that only helped accentuate her almost cherubic looks. However there was now a glint of erotic intent, the likes he had never witnessed in anyone before, and he felt his loins girdle in anticipation.

"I know someplace we can go where we won't be disturbed." The Hannah-Tulpa whispered in his ear; her breath warm and sensual. He nodded and couldn't believe it when she took him by the hand and led him out of the bookstore. 

The observant ones in the store saw a strange gesture; a rather flustered man holding his hand out in an almost effeminate manner; sporting a blush as red as his distended bulge in his jeans, as he walked out the store alone.

Doug was in a trance; her touch was divine and sent tingles down his spine. Things became hazy then; he couldn't seem to remember how he got into his car; let alone driving into the country or even parking outside the remote cabin he now found himself in. He felt lightheaded; the tingling sensation he'd noticed earlier had become 'pins and needles'; his tongue felt odd and he had a distinct coppery taste in his mouth similar to blood. He was also lying in a makeshift bed, completely naked... But it was less of a bed, more of an old mattress in the middle of the empty floor; but there were strange signs that had been drawn on the walls around him, and even on the ceiling. None of them looked even vaguely like writing of any kind; more like pictograms or glyphs. He looked at his stomach and initially thought similar had been painted there as well; but as he touched them he was horrified that they had been carved into his flesh somehow. The skin hadn't been cut exactly but it was painful to touch, almost as if he had bled through the skin.

He was frightened now. He tried to get up off the mattress but was horrified to find he didn't have the strength. His body just wouldn't obey him any further, and he then saw Hannah standing in the far corner of the room just staring at him. She was almost completely in shadow, but how long had he been trapped there? He could barely discern her naked outline from the darkness that surrounded her except her stomach looked distended and her breasts sagged more than he remembered. But what really chilled him was, not only the way she licked her engorged lips with her serpentine tongue, but the way her eyes glowed a malevolent orange.

"Ah good." She almost hissed. "You're awake again."

"This can't be happening." He moaned. "I created you." The Hannah-thing laughed throatily at this.

"Oh, you are funny. You have far more entertainment value left in you. I think I might have to let you live a while longer.. Let's see how long you can hold out and I'll try not to let my own passions get the better of me." She walked towards him and with every step he felt his fear rise until he could bare it no longer. With a whimper of shame he lost control of his bladder and micturated onto the mattress. The Hannah-thing shook her head, almost for his own embarrassment and knelt down by his side. She lent over and kissed him on the forehead, as one might a child before, moving down to his cock. She looked up at him and winked, before taking his still moist member in her mouth. To his dismay he couldn't help himself. The utter fear from before was replaced by an erection filled with self-loathing and bile. Had he been able to Doug would have thrown up or at least try to knock her away, but with ever gesture and movement of her mouth he felt himself drift away into oblivion. He hoped and prayed that this would be the end of his nightmare....

...But that was no to be the case for upon his awakening he found himself back in his own bed. The bed-sheets and mattress were damp and he felt as if he was hung-over after a weekend of drinking heavily.... He managed to get off the bed and stagger into the bathroom before looking in the mirror at his haggard reflection. He was beside himself with shock. There were still red lines that covered his ample stomach like a macabre etch-a-sketch, but this time they had been scored by blade of some kind; a lot of them had even scabbed over.

What the hell had been happening? What was it that he had summoned for it could not have been a Tulpa. Tulpa's were a manifestation and responded to your thoughts and desires. They could not harm you, or at least so Doug thought. But that... thing had almost drained him completely; using his own passions against him. In the back of his mind something was triggered and he went back to the website again to re-read that text he had mistranslated the first time.

“I bind a spirit to myself for eternal flesh; come to me, beautiful-demon of the abyss. May I be consumed entirely by a devastating...." This wasn't poetic or an analogy of some kind, he had actually bound himself to be consumed by a devastating spirit and that meant one thing... He had inadvertently summoned a succubus. Succubi were female demonic spirits who devoured men's life force, normally through sexual acts, and he had willingly succumbed to its powers and through the markings on his chest he was now hers for as long as she desired him; or for as long as he could survive. Soon she would grow tired of him and drain him completely... but what could be summoned could also be banished, surely!

He couldn't rely on the website from which he found the original text; he doubted its origins entirely now. That might not have been a case of it being an accidental mis-translation; it might have been a deliberate attempt to trap the unwary and he had fallen for it. He had no choice but to visit the occult bookstore again, but he would go with protection.

After rummaging through his drawer of keepsakes Doug found some crystals: Hematite;  black tourmaline... but had he really been a scholar and not in so much of a rush he would have realised that the crystals he now had on his body were obsidian and spessartine, and were the worst he could have chosen.

On the walk to the bookshop he was aware that every reflection now looked like the Hannah-thing; she was watching him with amusement; a cold but patient glint in her eye. There was nothing he could do, she knew... He walked into the bookshop like one demented and didn't see the people in his way, just had his eyes on the occult section; but which book? He was desperate. Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder and the saleswoman stood behind him. He tried explaining what book he was after without trying to sound like he was totally demented.

"I'm.., researching a story on... how to create a succubus... and how to banish one... Is there a book for that?" He asked.

The woman thought for a second. She was old, smaller than him and looked like she would have been happier reading a Mills & Boon romance story than recommending a book on etheric parasites, but after twenty seconds she pointed to a thin and neglected title. Doug picked the book out and read the cover: "Removing the shadows". He went to the checkout and tried to find the woman who made the recommendation, but there was no one there. By the time he'd paid for the book he'd forgotten all about her.

The book was very thin and had only one sentence in Latin to banish a succubus. The rest of the book had been explaining why summoning such an entity was never a good idea, and it just made Doug more frightened for his soul and his sanity. 

He needed to break the mirror in which he had made the earlier incantation, and use it to score a circle around his own cock and balls, very carefully -the aim was not to cut into his flesh but to draw a circle of protection around his groin; a symbolic act. He had never been so careful in his life; the circle took ten minutes to complete and he was shaking by the end of it. After re-arranging pieces of the broken mirror around him he read the words out loud three times:

"Ut umbram auferas, corpus ipsam interfice!" He had taken extra time to translate this and knew that it meant: "To banish the shadow, murder the true body."  That could mean only one thing... The true body meant the original object of his desire: Hannah. She had to die.

The next day he tried to make himself presentable; it was going to be his big day; a chance to free himself from his man-made purgatory, He couldn't look in any mirrors as that was where she dwelled now, spying on his every move... and through any reflections. He had smashed all the mirrors in his flat; pulverized them into so much dust and flushed that reflective ash down the lavatory. He had taped up all his windows and smeared any metallic surface so there was nothing she could travel through.  It was going to be difficult travelling to work but he knew that if he went when it was busiest, and stood in the middle of the train, among the crush and shut his eyes he should be fine. He hadn't washed in days; the water itself could be used against him. He urinated into the sink and defecated into buckets which he emptied in the middle of the night. Other commuters found it difficult standing on the train next to him, due the stench and his very unkempt nature. He made it into the office but had forgotten its mirrored windows on every floor. He had to make a run for it, stumbled up the steps and barely made it through the sliding doors  into the lobby. The receptionists didn't recognise him and tried their best to stop him, but he managed to duck into the opening lift and pressed the buttons repeatedly for the 4th floor.

She was there, reflected back at him; taunting him to infinity in the mirrors of the lift. She was barely recognisable as Hannah now, barely even human and  his own reflection had been warped into the visage of a madman.

"You're mine... Just surrender yourself to me and it will be as pleasurable as it is quick." She hissed in his every ear. The lift doors finally opened with a hopeless sibilant.  He knew that reception had called security to find him, and they knew what floor he was on now, so it was only 

a matter of time that they caught up to him. He ran to the door of his office but stopped short when he realised he hadn't brought his identity card; it was an electric keycard and he couldn't get into the office without it. He could hear the guards panting up the stairs, saw the other lift coming up after him; so he had a matter of minutes.

Just then the miracle happened and the door to the ladies toilets swung inwards and Hannah stepped out, gasping at Doug's shabbled ravings. It had to be now! He lunged at her; hands grasping her throat, pushing her back into the toilets. She couldn't scream, could only claw at his calloused, grubby hands; rake the flesh of his face but he wouldn't let go. He didn't hear the security behind him, just felt a blow on the side of his head which stunned him. Hannah then regained some of her wits and kneed him in the groin, exactly where he had carved the circle only a couple of days before. He fell hard and was restrained by the guards.

"Don't.. please don't... don't you see, I have to kill her! She's killing me; she's killing me! Don't you understand!"

The police arrived minutes later and placed him in handcuffs, took him down in the lift again; one of them a police-woman. She became a vehicle for the succubus who gloated at Doug through the reflection.

"Poor mortal. Ut umbram auferas, corpus ipsam interfice..." She said and chuckled throatily. "You never were any good at translation were you? It didn't mean kill the true body... Silly boy.... It meant: To remove the shadow, destroy the entity itself."

Doug shook his head slowly and felt it as a tickle at first; slowly building in intensity as he realised his folly. By the time he had reached the lobby again his body was racked with uncontrollable laughter. Hannah could hear the laughter even from where she was sitting in the office kitchen; being consoled by friends of hers. 

"What the hell was that about? Who was he?" Her friend asked. Hannah replied, after a second:

"I just don't know.. I have no idea at all!"

The face in the mural

Back in the 1980’s there was a resurgence of the ‘old world’ religion, re-packaged as the ‘New Age’. New labels and a new vocabulary: Ley lines, for example, were once called paths of the dragon; UFOs were just Will O’wisp energies, direct from the earth itself. One thing this did mean was that everyone involved in this paradigm shift could become rich if they knew how to market themselves properly.. so I quickly established myself as a local shaman, looking to take on new initiates. It wasn’t long before I had amassed a following; my own flock. Of course, I gave them nothing of any value; the true magicks were not to be undertaken lightly, it meant dedication and will power and a great deal of sacrifice –things that the current generation knew nothing about. But fools are ever after the glamour –always willing to accept iron pyrites over the genuine alchemical element.

Every so often, however, I would be introduced to a prodigal; one that showed true promise and I would always take time to nurture them; teach them a bit more than rest. Allowed them to be my disciple, if you will. Leonard was by far the brightest and most promising of them all and I often think of him fondly. I owe a lot to him, after all. Leonard was pretty nondescript; one could hardly call him a character –certainly not one of any note. Neither short nor particularly tall; neither fat nor thin, he just was... Destined to be ignored by most others, he had one thing that stood him apart from the others: his intellect. If anything he belonged to a by-gone age, as I did. His way of thinking was too radical for many of the up and comings mages who believed in chaos energies and crystal unicorns. Leonard was far more rooted in the earth; able to keep the bigger picture in mind whilst focusing on the minutiae. And he wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty.

I first met him at the first meeting of the Earth Energies Alliance that I had set up in.. ’86, I do believe. I was based in Haywards Heath at the time, in Priory Way (which was once dense woodland) around the Priory of Our Lady of Good Counsel –a fact that caused me no end of mirth. The group would meet once a fortnight and we would talk about the latest fads: Uri Geller and psychokinesis, Edgar Cayce, Crystal Skulls, Arthur C. Clarkes World of Strange Powers… anything that stimulated their little minds and brought me a few extra pounds on the side. But Leonard was actually well read on the subject, knew of Paul Deveraux, Chaos Magik and psychic questing. He wanted to know more about that sort of thing, which intrigued me immensely. So, against my better judgement, I indulged him. I wanted to see how far I could take him, whether he really was the ‘right stuff’, so to speak; and so the classes became more intense, much to the chagrin of the other hangers-on. Each time we met there would be fewer people, which was fine by me as it meant we had more interesting conversations. One day Leonard suggested the group try our own psychic quest and I readily agreed. Now was the chance to see what he was made of.

We met the Saturday after the group and much to Leonard’s dismay (and my amusement) he was the only one of the group to attend. I had expected as much as it was raining… and cold, but nothing seemed to dampen Leonard’s enthusiasm. The location was ‘chosen’ by Leonard to be The Long Man of Wilmington, a chalk figure holding two staves carved into the Sussex Downs near Eastbourne. The origins of the figure are clouded in mystery and Leonard was keen to see whether the questing could shed any light on it.

Psychic questing uses meditative techniques and a highly tuned intuition to gather clues and information from the landscape; to interact with the local energies to find out information otherwise impossible to discern. I knew that there was promise in Leonard and that he was receptive to psychic information as he picked up on the location I ‘gave’ him.

We sat at the round barrow at the base of the chalk figure and I told Leonard to envisage the two staves as one giant door. (This couldn’t be further from the truth of the figure, but it helped my purpose to lead him far from the truth) The door would shine with a black light, become a portal where he would be able to traverse through and talk to the Spirit form that inhabited the area. He would then be directed to an object of worth.

Leonard took this all in his stride and did as I asked. He sat cross-legged, his duffle coat making him look like a troll – it was with that image that I sent him the tulpa of a rock troll to converse with. Rather than balk at such a sight he readily conversed with it and seemed to take great enjoyment talking to himself. After a while the ‘conversation’ ceased –I was getting too cold to indulge Leonard’s whimsy any longer- and he took me to the church in Wilmington. I hadn’t been here in many a year and remembered the ancient yew and the lovely smell as the pews burned. Leonard used the dowsing rods that I had brought expressly for this excursion and it wasn’t long before he found a curious stone, buried amongst the roots of the yew. It was wrapped in a loose fabric that looked like old leather. He unwrapped it and dropped it immediately with a cry of disgust.

Inside was a sheep’s heart, still bloody, it had been pierced thirteen times. 12 of these looked like twigs from a tree, possibly a thorn of some kind, and the thirteenth from a rough hewn dagger of some kind. The dagger had markings scraped into it –some kind of ancient alphabet of some kind. Leonard scurried off to the bushes to vomit and I supressed a grin. Taking a phial of Holy Water I cleansed the heart and dug a hole to bury it properly.  I could hear Leonard shuffle up behind me with some embarrassment.

“Sorry about that… I’ve never seen anything like it before. Why do you think it was there?”

He asked.

“To serve as a warning of some kind, I’m not sure.”

“What were the markings on the stone dagger?”

“Does it matter? You were the one that dug it up –are you ok?” I asked.

“Yes, I think so. I feel a bit light headed.. probably down to the shock.”

“It’s ok –we can go home now, I’ve deactivated it. The holy water will have dispersed any negative energies that might have dwelt within the heart.”

“But I touched it! What will it do to me?” Leonard asked, nervous now at what he was involved in.

“Nothing; you barely had hold of it and you didn’t actually touch the heart itself; you’re just suffering from shock. We’ll go home and have some tea, you’ll be fine, Leonard. Trust me.”

The next week Leonard was the only one at the meeting; everyone else had given up which suited my purposes perfectly. Leonard looked quiet and withdrawn and he had been suffering from nightmares since the incident with the heart.

“Just psychic backlash from such a traumatic episode.” I consoled him as best I could, secretly pleased that things were working out perfectly. During that session I taught him about psychic protection and gave him the tools to ensure he wouldn’t be attacked by nightmares any more. He soaked up all the information just like a sponge; by far one of the best pupils I had ever had. Such a shame really, but by the end of the session I knew he was ready for the second stage. I suggested that he had to put all the information to the test so I suggested a visit to Clapham wood, one of my old haunts of yesteryear.

That Sunday was a complete contrast to the last time we undertook a quest and Leonard was brimming with confidence, having practiced the protection ritual religiously. The weather was warm and sunny; sheepish clouds adding comfort to the day.

We parked by the church and took a walk through the wood, stopping at the ……….  About half an hour into the walk Leonard starting complaining.

“I… my legs… “

“What is it now, Leonard? I know you’re having second thoughts about the group but I certainly didn’t force you to come.”

“I’m starting to feel weak; my legs… they’re starting to go numb.”

“I’ve a Marathon bar in my knapsack if you think it’s your blood sugars.”

“No, it’s not that… It feels like I’m being pulled back; like something doesn’t want me to be here.”

“We’ll be stopping in a minute so just use the techniques I taught you –do you remember? They’ll help you through; not much further to go.” Leonard nodded and carried on walking. We reached the area of the wood which was once the site of an old lime pit and I told Leonard to sit on a log at the base of it and to sit quietly. There was nothing around us; no one walking around – there was no bird song either. Leonard didn’t notice, of course, but that was only to be expected.

“This is a place of power where one can become open to the unimaginable. I’ve already prepared you so you will be protected as long as you do as I have told you. Open yourself to the power, Leonard –just like I told you. Trust me. Become part of the pit.”

He was so trusting; opening himself up to the energies without the true protection, soaking in the negative potential. All through the ritual he had his eyes tightly closed and he intoned the words of power I had given him without understanding. Soon the light began to fade with the dying of the afternoon and the mist began to rise; dense and cloying. It got very cold and I knew that the ritual was nearing its conclusion. I saw his hands reach down to the base of the log and start to move the damp loam around. It didn’t take him long to find them. He opened his eyes suddenly and started shivering.

“Well done.” I told him, feigning an interest. “You never cease to amaze me –you managed to find them!”  He looked at what he was holding with disbelief; in each hand was a large silver sovereign.

“What are these for?” He asked, surprised by what he’d found.

“Payment, maybe?” I replied.

The ordeal in Clapham woods had tired him out and it was several weeks until I saw him again. Part of me was concerned that I’d pushed him too hard; it was a danger to be sure but it was something I could easily salvage. As luck would have it I didn’t need to. There was a knock on the door one evening and I couldn’t have timed it better if I tried.

“I can’t stop the nightmares.” He said at the doorway. It was a little after nine on a moonless night and his face was drenched in cold sweat. “I thought the words you gave me would help but nothing seems to. It’s got to the stage that they’re invading my day to day thoughts. All I can see is this figure, like something out of Blake’s paintings –it’s a lizard thing with horns coming out of its head, and it’s swathed in fire. I can’t stop thinking about it; please help me. What am I doing wrong?” He pleaded. I put my arm around him and just smiled.

“It’s ok, Leonard.” I said to him, like a priest.  “It’s time. It’s almost over now, you’ve done well.” I led him to the car and he stopped before getting in.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To complete your training. That’s what you want isn’t it? To be initiated? To be one of the chosen?” He hesitated and the nodded slowly. “Trust me, Leonard. It will soon be over.”

We drove for an hour in the rain drenched billowing darkness, Leonard just shivering against the weight of his inevitability. We reached the farm house and I could see the flickering light in the downstairs room, everything had been prepared.

“Close your eyes now and I will blindfold you.” I whispered to him “I will tell you when to open them.” He looked at me warily. “The initiate must always enter the threshold blindfolded so he can be birthed into the new. Come now, you know that, Leonard.” He smiled weakly and let me place the blindfold over his eyes. I led him across the gravel driveway, the crunch sounding so much louder in the darkness. I could feel his hand getting sweaty in mine and I smiled to myself. We stepped into the room and I bade him kneel down and face the far wall. I took off the blindfold and asked him to keep his eyes shut for a few seconds more.

When he opened his eyes he finally realised. He was surrounded by my true disciples, seven of my finest students all dressed in ceremonial robes and headdress. Strewn around the floor were the offerings; severed heads of cows, mouths and eyes wide in supplication and prayer. He started to moan and rock in place and actually tried denying that it was taking place. I kissed him on the forehead and directed his attention to the wall in front of him. It was his worst fears made flesh, the Master himself; he who had been invading his thoughts and nightmares. The mural, vivid and bloody, a serpentine face, long in tooth and horn, rising from the flames to devour all who cross his path. And now Leonard was its final victim as the face in the mural turned to him…

Anything for a quiet life...

1)

Well, I really fucked up this time! I thought I could handle things, save the day; whatever.. and where did it get me?  Buried alive, God knows where. I’ve been here for at least two hours now; a length of rubber tubing leading up to the surface as my only means of survival... so I’m at least four feet deep and my whole world consists of this small, silk lined box. I was trying to play the hero but I should’ve stayed at home.

I know the technique; it’s an extreme form of dehumanization: complete sensory deprivation on an archetypal level; they don’t want me dead, just pliable and in another couple of hours that’s how I’ll be; fat and pliable.... Trouble is, I have no idea how to get out – my hands and feet are tied and the cords have no give in them at all.

Every so often I hear a creak of the timbers around me as the earth settles itself; pressing, compacting against my world. I swear that the lid of the coffin is pressing closer, caressing my cheek and I would love to scratch at the twitches that are starting to develop , but I can’t; so I use it to stay sane –focus on the minute details, keep myself occupied. I have to stay sane, keep with it; the whole village needs me..

I’ve got to keep sending out my psychic S.O.S’s; there must be someone out there who can pick it up; but I need to remain calm, panicking won’t help me at all –it’ll only send me closer to them. I’m already far too vulnerable and I’m just surprised that they haven’t taken a more overt approach in subduing me. Maybe that will come later and then I really will be fucked! At least I still have a chance, it’s slim but it’s there….

There – I’ve sent it again. I guess I’m sending them out every couple of minutes but there’s no real way to know. It doesn’t really matter, it needs to be enough so someone can pinpoint me. I should be able to pick up when they’re in the vicinity and shout to them –that’s always supposing I can shout.

I need to conserve my energy, figure out stuff –I have time. Like where did it go wrong? When exactly were they expecting me? Was it all planned from the start? That would explain so much….

Like the letter I received; Roger never wrote me unless it was urgent, he knew how busy I was. His letter was brief: two deaths in the village was bad enough and certainly unheard of in the comatose village of Slaughley, where I’d grown up, but both were of children! 

The first was Rosemary Dew. She had been on a walk with her family in the local woods. They were new to the village and didn’t know that they woods were actually out of bounds to the villagers; private property. Certainly nothing prepared them for what happened.

Three Alsatians came out of nowhere and attacked them. The father did what he could to defend his wife and twins; and managed to save his wife and son but his poor daughter never stood a chance. I don’t even want to think about what she went through; but the father witnessed it all and it’s unlikely that he’ll ever talk of it, or of anything else, again.

A week later and another child goes missing. Tony Ashworth didn’t come back from church one Sunday afternoon; hadn’t been playing with his friends and no one remembered seeing anything suspicious that day. It was two weeks before his parents saw him again and they will always be left with one simple question: why?

He was found in the local pond, in the catchment area where the new-born fish were always released and the frogs spawned. The irony was lost on everyone but the tragedy was just as real. There was no sign of mutilation (sexual or otherwise, thank god) and no one could understand why such a thing was happening: this was Slaughley, after all, and not Brighton. Things like this didn’t happen there –the worst was a broken leg at a rugby game or repetitive strain injury through too much fishing!

I breathed in deeply again though the plastic tube and sent out another signal. Luckily I’d spent many years meditating so I was able to keep myself from panicking, although time was rapidly running out. I felt a tingling sensation at the top of my scalp which either meant that my psoriasis was acting up or someone had picked up on my psychic S.O.S. I was hoping for the latter; I had to keep the channel open so they could track me. Keep broadcasting, I thought, help will soon be here.

It was the possession of Amy Brown that persuaded Roger to write me and he was right to. Perhaps possession was the wrong choice of words; Amy was bewitched, but to a layman it would be difficult to tell the difference.
Roger had helped me research my first novels and had even been with me when I started my own ‘journey of enlightenment’. (although from where I’m lying now I’ve obviously still got a long way to go!) He alerted me to what was going on and I was gung-ho enough to believe that I could handle it without any cause for concern. Certainly everything that had happened in my life up to that point had led to that conclusion, but I fell to the second stumbling block of learning: clarity. Maybe I believed that I saw things too clearly and someone else obviously anticipated that, and that’s what’s worrying me now… I need to go over the last day in detail because I’ve missed something obvious but vital to my survival!

Over twelve hours ago, Bryan had caught me unawares, surprised me whilst I was investigating Slaughley church. Maybe that should have been my first clue. I’ve known both Bryan and Roger for years. We became linked, even though Bryan lacked the stones to carry on through the Teachings. There was no way he could’ve snuck up on me, he possessed neither the power nor the skill, yet surprise me he did.

“Fuck, Bryan – you should know not to do things like that! Especially not when I’m in the middle of cleansing!”

“Found anything yet?”

“No, I haven’t! That’s’ what’s worrying me –it’s too well hidden, which means they’re expecting me.”

“Well, if I knew that you were coming…” I looked at him – I didn’t think that he and Roger were that close any more.

“No… I meant that I’d picked up that you were coming round here first thing this morning. I knew that I’d find you here – well, I remember when we were kids!”

“We were hardly kids, Bryan. Have you heard from Roger at all?” He shook his head and walked towards the church. I was on its furthest boundaries trying to get a feeling where the blockage was. Something was certainly disrupting Slaughley’s energy but I couldn’t figure out the three fundamentals: what, why and where! I’d only been searching for fifteen minutes when Bryan interrupted me and that should’ve been my first clue.

Why I’m still alive baffles me sometimes… I must either be special or lucky…or stupid.

“Should I have heard from him?” Bryan replied too innocently. True, there was no love lost between them but even so.

“So you don’t know what’s been going on around these parts then?

“Coffee? It’s too cold to just stand and talk!” That he was hiding something from me was obvious, but why? I had to play his game to find out; seems that I played it too long.

As soon as I walked into his cottage I knew that he’d been ensnared into it, whatever it was. If I hadn’t taken all the precautions and protected myself with the relevant crystals and visualisations I would surely have been finished.

Look, I’m a writer, yeah? No, you’ve probably never read my books; they’re a mixture of the esoteric and fantasy, based a little on my own journey of awakening and path to learning… Well, whilst writing the novels I unwittingly opened myself up to forces that I didn’t know even existed. I thought I was writing fiction, but it seems I was closer to the truth than what I thought! It took me dangerously close to the edge on a few occasions but it really does make you stronger. Cracked, certainly… but if you’re strong enough you can see things in a completely different way. The world is never the same again.

One of the troubles is people think you are actually the character you write about and expect you to be able to deal with the things that your character does… I’ve dealt with cases of ‘possession’ before but all that was required was an understanding of psychology and occult symbolism.

I’ve also been involved in true black magic. It’s real, believe it. Doesn’t matter whether you do or not though, if you don’t make yourself a target you won’t really have to worry; they’ll probably just passively feed off you as they would normally do.

If you do make your presence known to them, like I did, then you become a target to be converted anyway they can. It was during a fateful trip to Paris that I found this out and learnt all I could about protection to make sure that it would never happen again. Times like this it certainly pays dividends.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” I whirled round to Bryan upon walking into the cottage. “When did they get to you?”

“I’m not as strong as you, Alex. I never have been. They took the whole village in a matter of weeks. The children's death were just the tip of the iceberg!”

“And you let Roger face it all on his own then? He was the only one savvy enough to realise what was really happening, I take it.”

“Don’t delude yourself – I’m not bloody stupid. I knew exactly what was going on but I wasn’t going to stick my neck out for no good reason!”

“You’re nothing but a quizling, Bryan. So… I was supposed to just blunder into this and get enslaved as well?” In amongst this Bryan was true to his word, making us both a cup of coffee as if we were discussing the weather, or the price of eggs. He handed me a cup.

“Drink from both, mate.. if you will.” I insisted.

“You’re kidding me? You still don’t trust me?”

“Do you blame me?”

“Look… I knew you’d get called over and would easily recognise what’s going on; just as I knew that you’d rumble that this cottage was under siege. I said that I wasn’t daft enough to face it on my own, but with you here that’s a different story.” He took a mouthful from both mugs and grimaced when it came to mine. “I hate sugar in coffee…”

Ok, what he said made sense, but what next? It was still two against the unknown…

“Tell me more about Amy Brown.” I asked him.

“She’s a cute kid, only seven, you know? She’s at that age where everything she does is adorable. Everyone loves her and she’s brightened up the whole village. Some people have gone so far to say that she’s the very heart of the village now.”

So it’s like that then… By making her suffer then village knows to keep compliant; they want to cut the very heart from Slaughley.

“Let me guess, the Brown’s didn’t take the deaths of the other two children lightly did they? Like Roger, they were starting to see a pattern forming and got quite vociferous about it.”

“Yup, not now though. And with the Browns silenced so has the whole village.”

“Right… it’s nearly ten, will they be up?”

“Who, the Browns? I don’t think that they sleep much anymore.” Bryan replied.

“Will they agree to my helping them?”

“They’ve already got an interest in the occult –not like you.. but I think that they’ll accept whatever help you could possibly give.”

“If you could go in and tell them about me whilst I go and take a reccy of their cottage… I don’t know exactly what I’m dealing with yet. The grid feels like it’s been disrupted but I can’t tell by who or how powerful they are. Something feels very wrong… to disrupt the grid takes power and knowledge but it’s the possession that feels strictly amateurish.”

“What do you think you’ll find?”

“I don’t know yet. I don’t want to prejudice things by having a pre-conceived idea, but you think you can do that for me?”

“What, act as your agent? Course!” The humor was misplaced but I let it slide.

But I let too much slide, I didn’t want to believe that Bryan was that far into things. It’s easier, after all, to place the blame on other people’s shoulders but I should’ve been more careful. I let my curiosity and pride cloud the way. I could feel someone above me now, scrabbling on the earth over my burial site. Thank god – course, I didn’t know who it was. It wouldn’t take them long to get me out, I just hoped that they were friendly.

As I thought, there were four marker points to act as a barrier at the cardinal points, but was that to keep the energies out or in?

They were child’s play to defuse. Just stones wrapped in parchment, muddied enough to blend in. On the inside of the parchment would be writing of some form or another, a statement of intent no doubt, to cause harm to those who lived within. I half expected them to be booby trapped so I didn’t pick them up initially; they had to be neutered first.

Normally I would’ve urinated on them, but I don’t think that the Brown’s would have relished me pissing on their gardens, what would the neighbors think?

Luckily there are always multiple ways of doing things and I had in my back pocket a bottle of holy water. Always prepared! Experience has taught me some very valuable lessons, often through the hard way (but as my mentor once said to me, is there really any other way?).

I doused the stones as there were runes scratched onto the surface; someone really wasn’t taking any chances. As funny as it sounds, their penmanship was appalling, for if intent is the key to all things magic then concentration and skill denote a magus. This was shoddy but the knowledge behind it was far beyond the skill level exhibited.

I was beginning to understand exactly what was happening; it wasn’t normal at all, but there was a practice of using a surrogate to carry out all the dirty work, thereby concealing the true intentions.

This took a lot of energy and thought, and meant that I could be in deep shit if I wasn’t careful. However it could also work to my benefit. If, and it was a big if, if it was the surrogate that was being used to possess and drain the child then I could use that to my advantage. If it wasn’t then I could be in a world of pain –only one way to find out!

Jim Brown was fighting a losing battle, still trying to remain polite to strangers when his daughter was losing her fight for life. Amanda Brown wouldn’t leave her side now, she was almost without hope, by maybe that was where I came in.

I explained to them both what was happening, what I was expecting to find and what I was going to do next.  I also told them that there was a large element of risk involved,

“Look, I know that if we do nothing then our daughter is dead; I have no illusions, Mr Paige. But if there’s even a ten percent chance of you saving her then I’m prepared to accept those odds.” Jim had lost none of his determination and I nodded. “And if what you say is true and you could very well end up hurting those that are behind all this then so much the better!”

“The other person may be completely innocent about what’s going on.” I replied solemnly.

“There’s no such thing.”

I scanned Amy’s bedroom and only one thing seemed out of place, but I needed confirmation from the family.

“What’s the most recent toy of Amy’s? It might be the one that she’s most attached to as well.”

Jim and Amanda shared glances that confirmed my suspicions.

“How did you know?” Amanda asked, pointing to the bear that Amy clung to.

“Now, I’m going to need it taken from her, and I think it’s best that you give it to me. I’m sorry if this upsets her further but I’m going to have to destroy it.” Jim nodded and handed me the bear despite the weak protestations from Amy.

“How did you know?” He asked.

“Did you get it at a jumble sale? Bric-a-brac? Let me guess, it was actually handed to her.”

Again the strained disbelief glanced between them. “It’s an old trick, the person probably wasn’t even aware of the significance of it.” This was unlikely, but I didn’t want any acts of vigilantism, besides I needed access to them myself.

Right then, when the spade finally hit the coffin lid, I nearly lost it. I actually started to panic; Just like in the movies I started shouting; as ridiculous as it sounds… I mean, why else would anyone be digging a hole in the ground at that time of night? So I stopped myself… too little, too late though, as the coffin lid was torn free and I was face to face with the last person I expected to see.

“Well… you certainly fucked up this time, boy!” She said, echoing my earlier sentiments.

2)

An hour later, safe and warm, which is more than I deserved under the circumstances. I’ve a cup of coffee in my left hand and a chocolate digestive in the other, ready for dunking.

“So… what happened then? You discovered that the fetish was in the bear, so how did you approach the possession itself? I don’t remember that being in the curriculum. No wonder you fucked it up!”

And she was supposed to me my friend!

But even that wasn’t strictly true. A begrudging friend would probably be closer. Ruth started out as my mentor when things first went bad for me. I was drawn to her after a cursory meeting at a psychic fayre. She was one of the many mediums displaying their wares and she insulted me during the whole reading, but each of the insults hit home. I needed to know why and so spent three painful years unravelling the whole story. At least, that was the initial theory, but I sometime wonder whether I actually made things worse; still, at least I’d gathered enough material to write my first two novels!

We kinda fell out after that. She was getting more manipulative and I didn’t like the direction she’d chosen for me… we had a parting of the ways and a very tense argument or three.

And this was the first time we’d spoken since then!

“Oh, you’re going to love this..” I replied.

“You allowed yourself to be possessed, so you could get information and kill the host; right?” She interrupted. Don’t let the pink punk hairstyle fool you; Ruth’s no idiot, despite being over seventy years old her temper is just as boiling, her tongue just as acerbic and mind just as sharp as it ever was.

“Well, yes… and it worked… I’d figured that they were using a cipher as a go-between and I wagered that I’d be stronger than the cipher. I’d already pinned it down to a person in the village and reckoned that I could beat them easily.”

“So what’s it like being so wrong?”

“But I wasn’t… things got ropey for a while, apparently. I nearly ended up killing the family..”

“Bloody idiot! I always told you that you’d fuck up one time, didn’t I?”
“But I got back.. eventually… I sensed what was happening and managed to sever the connection. I came back and all was well with the girl.”

“So how did you end up in the coffin?”

“Ah… well – I got no information from the first time that I went in…. so I tried it again. Even though the girl’s connection had been severed I could still make contact with the cipher. I felt that there was another presence in its mind, something hidden and I wanted to find out what it was…. So I went in again… that evening… when there was nobody else watching.”

Ruth laughed mockingly. “Andy you never once thought that that would be a bad idea? Like it may have been an elaborate trap?”

“Well… yes…” I agreed, blushing. “I thought I was well protected though. I never envisaged that there would be that amount of psychic ensnarement. It took me a couple of hours to get back in to my body and by the time I did I was buried alive. Not exactly the best way to spend a night.”

“Fucking idiot.” She chastised and I could only nod. “More than you deserve though. I mean, how could you be so fucking stupid? Did it not occur to you the power behind this? You’re nothing to these people! I used to tell you, even when we first met, the nature of the black. Even after what happened in Paris, but you still don’t get it. This is not a game – you’re lucky to be alive! They shred minds as well as souls and yours would be nothing to them!”

“Thanks –your support is greatly appreciated.”

“Fuck you, Alex. You call me out at stupid fucking o’clock so now you can hear me bitch, and you know I’m right –goddamnit!”

“Yes.. I’m sorry…” She was right, as always.

“So, what are you going to do now?”  

“Go home, get some sleep and then figure out how to put the village back on the energy grid, so to speak.”

“How the fuck are you going to do that? What makes you think you stand a chance?”

“I have no idea.” I yawned, “but I have an idea that it starts with the church, so that’s where my second port of call is, after bed.” I tried to unsuccessfully stifle another yawn.

“Be careful about the church.” Ruth cautioned. “It’s guarded.”

“I’ve no doubt about that, but by what exactly?”

“An ancient power that’s been perverted by the black, it won’t take kindly to you snooping around at night.”

“Who said I’d be doing it at night?” Ruth fixed her gaze at me and I smiled. “Yeah, ok – I don’t want to be snooping around when just anyone can see me, beside it makes sense to do it at night… don’t worry, I’ll make sure that I’m protected.”

“Like you were tonight?”

“Look –the world breaks everyone, Ruth..”

“But you might not get the chance to shoot yourself…”

“Touché.” On that note I left Ruth. I knew better than to expect words of encouragement from her, if I survived the next night then we’d surely meet up again… I just hoped that whatever I was going to learn was worth it.

Unsurprisingly, by the time I got back to my cottage I was pretty damn tired. Not tired enough to do a cursory check of the property though. That would have been the easiest way to get caught out, through my carelessness; but there had been no attempts to seize the cottage. That struck me as odd, but I filed it for later and checked my watch. Ye Gods, it was ten after four in the morning! I needed sleep over everything else.

I created a cocoon of protection around me and a barrier around the cottage. If anything tried to get through I’d be woken. With those in place I slept dreamlessly.

I awoke feeling refreshed but still befuddled about what was going on. It was the timing that still bothered me. It was no secret that the black was highly operational –after all, there was the alchemist scandal back in the 1980’s which was never really cleared up but, by and large, they kept themselves off of the radar. So why now? Why make such a blatant attack against the village –especially a village that had no significance whatsoever? The only thing that it had going for it was John Wayne visiting it in the 70’s whilst on location. Apart from that, I was the only resident who had made anything of themselves and, even though I could be pretty egotistical sometimes, I knew I was strictly small-fry for these people, and there were far easier ways to ensnare the bigger fish.

I looked at my watch –it was ten after seven in the evening and it was starting to get dark out, good. By the time I’d fixed something to eat there’d be no one around.

An hour later and I’d fixed up my backpack ready for the evenings activities: a thermos flask of holy water and various bits of paraphernalia. I performed a few protection visualisations and was ready for whatever was going to happen.

I could wax lyrical about the Norman aspects of the church but it’s pointless. Suffice to say that it was an important site, important enough to have a three thousand year old yew tree in its grounds; and, despite what you may have heard, yew trees are gateways to other consciousnesses if used correctly, and it was now the target of the attacks. My first hunch had been correct and it was only because of I’d been distracted by Bryan that I’d not followed up on it….

Of course, that made perfect sense to me now. The whole thing had been stalling me, but not anymore. It was time to do something and fight back. If Ruth was correct then something had trapped the energy and perverted it.

Once in the churchyard I walked to the yew and even in the darkness I could find it. I’d been christened in the church so this, to me, was extra personal, which meant that I had to be careful not to let my feelings get in the way.

The moon poked out of the clouds, but most of it was in hiding –smarter than me, obviously. I sat with my back against the yew with both my feet firmly planted on the ground. Both of my palms were on the ground as well.

I didn’t bother with the circle of protection for I knew the tree itself would be enough. It hadn’t been gotten to yet, I could feel that its own defenses were still too powerful so I envisaged a circle of light around us and dug my roots deep down to mingle my energies with the yews.

Growing the roots is a powerful meditation technique to gain strength and anchor oneself to the ground, which is especially useful in confrontations such as this.

I sat there for an hour and couldn’t have asked for a nicer night, which didn’t really make sense. It was almost clear with very few clouds, no ill winds; nothing to corroborate the feelings I’d had earlier. Everything was almost too peaceful.

It was then that I felt it. A roar of wind pinned me to the tree taking the breath right from me. If I hadn’t been rooted down then lord knows what might have happened. I couldn’t see what had caused the roar but felt a powerful energy, dense and very angry. It knew I was there and saw me as an intruder. I had to face it, if I turned to run then it would cut me down mercilessly. At least this way I stood a fighting chance.

I dug my roots ever deeper, gathering more power into my body, ready to use it. The entity must have sensed what I was doing for it bellowed again and came closer though I still couldn’t see it.

What I felt was its immensity and its anger; I had no idea it would be this powerful, yet I sensed nothing malevolent about it. I remembered Ruth warning me and readied myself for the attack. If I didn’t strike now then I’d be too shit scared to even try. The entity knew what I was doing and I felt it tense, readying itself for the retaliation, but it did nothing to provoke me.

This wasn’t right; nothing about this was right. If what Ruth had said was true then I should have been dead by now. The entity should either have attacked. It could have easily obliterated me, I could see that now. The two bellows had been displays of power, warnings, nothing more. If it was evil I would never have been given any warning. That meant that Ruth had been wrong… or lying?

Oh dear God, I was in trouble now. Once again, I’d found myself in a near impossible situation. Rather than being buried alive I was now trespassing and meddling with things I really shouldn’t be. This was a guardian, warning me to back off and, unless I was mistaken, I had already taken things much too far to back down now. I’d been set up.

I couldn’t fight the guardian, but what else could I do? What happens when an unstoppable force meets an unyielding object? And then it was obvious, I yielded. Immediately I let the shield of light down and withdrew my roots from the yew allowing the guardian access to me. This was surely suicidal for if I was wrong then…

I felt the guardian draw closer, the very air becoming tangible with the power. I felt myself grow warmer, a pulsing love enveloped me and I saw a large ball of light appear. It moved until it was at eye level before moving closer to me still. A sense of peace and wonderment filled me. I’d obviously done the right thing; by opening myself, allowing myself to be vulnerable, I was no longer a threat and the guardian reciprocated in kind, showing me its true form.

When the light passed through me I felt as if I’d been scanned… that’s the only analogy that I can use. I felt known by the guardian as we became one and felt nothing but love.

When the glow left me and the guardian receded I broke down and cried. I’m not ashamed to admit that, I wept like a child. The love had been so powerful that I couldn’t bear to be separated by it. I also felt rejuvenated, stronger than I had felt in months.

And I also knew why this had all been happening and what had been the catalysing incident.

I now knew what had to be done, but I needed the more specialist equipment that what was in my knapsack; two things specifically. One of which was a spear fashioned from the wood of the very yew tree I was sworn to protect that had been given to me some years before, and the other was water from the Maidens Cup.

Legend has it that the Maidens Cup was where St Leonard slew the dragon that had been terrorising the area, using a local virgin as bait. The virgin’s blood fell onto the ground and from that time water has always sprung up with a reddish tinge. Obviously that’s a load of crap, it’s just the site of a local spring; its coppery colour due to the amount of iron in the earth.

In order to protect myself from whatever was surrounding the place I not only had to bathe in the vile liquid but also had to drink it –that’s what the guardian had told me when we merged. I had to be one, both within and without, with the spirit of the Maiden, in order to be its protector.

Luckily it was still in the middle of the night and the Maidens Cup was down a steep slope which I’d like to say I traversed without a problem… Unfortunately I actually slid down the steep bank on my arse. I figured it was better to drink from it first then bathe and within twenty minutes I was ready to face whatever was in the wood. I was careful enough to anoint my spear as well, everything needed to be pure and as one. I had no idea what I would be facing in the wood so needed as much protection as I could.

3)

The wood had been my favourite childhood haunt. I’d spent so many happy hours reading, safely ensconced within the embrace of the trees. I saw so many deer in my time and shared many magical moments with them. It broke my heart to be there now; its aura had changed completely. With only one footstep I knew that it had been taken over by something dark and evil, and that’s a word that I don’t use lightly.

We use that word without really understanding it; we say that a person’s evil when what we really mean is that they’re a right bastard. Evil is a feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach and churns, contracts and eats away like cancer. It infects everything it comes in contact with until there’s nothing else.

The Dew family would never have stood a chance, dogs or no dogs. They would’ve fallen prey to the woods own defences without the Alsatian’s attacking them. I didn’t have long myself though. Bathing in the Maidens Cup gave me an hour at best, and I didn’t plan on being there that long, to be honest!

I mentally checked my knapsack again: holy water, check; pen knife, check; spear, check… Talk about travelling light… Thing is, there was nothing else I could really take with me, save a twelve bore shotgun and I’d never really fired one of them before.

I walked on drawing a map in my mind as to where I needed to go. If I remembered correctly the power place, the very heart of Slaughly was in the middle of the Daffodil Dell, but I doubted very much that anything grew there now.

I walked carefully trying not to make a sound, but with every footstep there were the requisite crunches and snaps of branches and leaves so I resided to walk normally. I figured that my presence had been sensed the moment I entered the wood anyway, so walking carefully was actually hindering my progress. The wood was dreamily quiet, the moon adding a deathly pallor, heightening the tension I was already feeling.

I knew that nothing would attack until I’d reached the Dell. They would have the advantage of being on higher ground. I also knew that there was nothing I could do to really prepare myself, I just had to be hyper-aware and not let my guard down for a second.

Of course, it was then that they attacked. I never even heard them; I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts. Forget the horror movie cliché of the snapping teeth, the first dog launched at me from behind, knocking me off my feet. It went straight for my left arm and sunk its teeth into my flesh. I screamed out and tried to shake it off, but it hung on. I could see the other two togs circle, ready to join the fray.

I had to do something fast. Drawing deep from within myself I recited the spell of Inner Light and spat into the eyes. There was a blinding flash as the water from the Maidens Cup transubstantiated into pure energy. That was something I knew could only happen once; the guardian must be helping me as much as it could.

The dog was thrown off and cowered. I pushed myself up, digging my roots deep into the clean earth and held my spear up like a quarterstaff. I chanted, praying to the guardian for strength, as the second dog launched at me. I whirled around, side stepping it completely and gave it a large whack with the spear just as the third one came at me. It went for the spear, taking me completely off balance as the first one tried again. The third dog let the spear go as the first one lunged at me –bathing the spear had given it protection and the dog couldn’t keep hold of it. I twisted it so it took the first dog by surprise and managed to stab it in its flank. It was out of the battle, leaving just two more.

They attacked together. one lunged at me but I managed to strike it through the throat, but this was just a diversion for the other one got hold my wrist and crunched hard; I screamed out, destroying whatever tough-guy image I had left and fell on it hoping that my weight would make it let go but it didn’t.

By now the blood loss was getting to me and I was on adrenaline alone. I wasn’t sure if I had much more left but there was no way I was going to give up; there was too much at stake. Ignoring the pain as much as I could I wrapped my other arm around the dogs neck. It was already in a difficult position and had no maneuverability. I called upon every deity I could think of to give me the strength I needed. With one swift snap I broke its neck, but my wrist was badly mangled. My days of badminton were over… luckily I hated the sport.

Two of the dogs were dead for sure, but I couldn’t leave the other one suffering –I wasn’t a sadist. I picked up the spear and stabbed it through the heart.

It was then that I made the unfortunate discovery. The sharp pain in my hand where the dog had bitten me was in fact where two of my fingers being severed, brilliant. I took my handkerchief out and tied a tourniquet as best as I could. I didn’t have time to deal with it properly as I‘d only accomplished half of what I set out to do, and in one bizarre way losing the fingers may have actually worked in my favor.

I staggered into the Daffodil Dell and knelt at its heart. I could tell this was where the magicks had first taken place; I also knew why the family had been attacked, and what I had to do to end it all.

I undid my backpack and took out the holy water. The pen knife was there, originally so I could take some of my own blood to use as a sacrifice to open the grid again, but luckily there was plenty leaking from all over my body, so I held my mangled hand over the flask and mixed it with the holy water. I was really shaky now,  the adrenaline was wearing off, let alone the Maidens protection. This had to end.

Digging down as far as I could with my hands, I then pierced the earth with the spear, and poured in the mixture of the holy water and blood asking the Great Spirit to accept my sacrifice and cleanse the energy grid of the great wrong that had been done to it. I called on the guardians of the cardinal points to wreak great vengeance on those that dared to defile the sanctuary of the soil and the Spirits of the air and water to set things right again.

I’m not sure what I expected…  a great rush of wind, a crash of thunder or flash of light.. or even a scream, but nothing happened… except for a definite “Wooooh” of an owl in the branches above. I could clearly see it in the moonlight; I’m sure it winked at me before flying off. You can’t say fairer than that. In fact, on the journey out of the wood, it was as if it had woken up again –all I could hear were things scurrying about. That was as good a sign as any… which left me only one more thing to finish off… Ruth.

She wasn’t surprised to find me knocking on her door for the second time at an ungodly hour, and as I expected, she was all dolled up in her regalia. She was in her finery; black dress, purple cloak and even the requisite black eye make-up and lipstick like some septuagenarian Goth.

“When did you know it was me?” She asked when she invited me inside.

“I thought it was odd that you answered my psychic s.o.s. when you did… and I don’t think it was to make sure I was alright either… that must’ve surprised you…I reckon you were going to be the one to convert me regardless, after all you had a vested interested in me, didn’t you?” Ruth nodded and motioned for me to continue. She kept both hands behind her back and the cloak concealed too much for me to discern what she was planning. Truth be told, I was too tired and bleeding profusely to put up any kind of a fight and she knew it. I continued: “You slipped up with the guardian though. Did you really think that I’d try to pick a fight with something like that? I mean, I know I’ve done some bloody stupid things in my time but I’ve always had respect! The moment I realised how you’d set me up I let my guard down to it…”

“You always made a habit of doing that, didn’t you? You’ll never learn, Alex.” Her movements were fluid and I never saw what she did, just felt the dagger as it pierced my gut. I never stood a chance. “Shhh..” She whispered to me as I collapsed. She fell with me, but gracefully as if she had all the time in the world. She sat on top of me and twisted the knife. “Shhh.. it will soon be over… Bleed for me and it will be done. You may have cleansed Slaughley but it’s just one square on our board; there are plenty of others. Lie still, this won’t hurt a bit.” She twisted the blade deeper. It was then that she stopped and looked at me, alarm registering in her eyes. She saw the dagger in my stomach and the gaping wound that was now appearing in her own.

“That’s the thing about offering oneself as sacrifice. If it’s accepted it’s better than a get out of jail free card. I made a promise that I would bring the people who perpetrated this travesty to justice and now that I’ve found you,  I guess I have. It’s you that never stood a chance, Ruth.”

I pushed her away from me and took out the knife from my expansive gut; there was no wound. Ruth, on the other hand, was now bleeding badly.

“Please.. finish me.” She begged.

“You must think I’m daft!” I spat. “No, I’m going to watch you suffer, bitch… just as you made all those families suffer.” She tried to push me away to escape but I was having none of that. I got the spear which was liberally coated with the blood from her dogs and broke it into three pieces. With each crack I heard the bones in her body break, such was the power of sympathetic magic.

She pleaded for me to forgive her and I tried to remember all that she had done for me, but all I could see was the face of Amy Brown as the curse worked its way through her body, and I watched the life’s blood drain from Ruth. When I was sure she was dead I took great pains to burn her place the fuck down.

There was no way she was coming back this time….