I flicked through the pages, desperate. Maybe god couldn't give me a miracle. But I believed in Satan too.
Finally, I found something. It was all in Latin, the instructions and everything, but I had had to study Latin for years. I read it easily. The black, scrawling script claimed it could bring somebody back from death itself - for little bit of blood and something that I translated as 'standard payment'. I didn't know what that was, and I didn't want to. A long chant, also in Latin, was necessary, but that would be a problem. I had good pronunciation.
I acted without thinking. First, I used a sharp stick to draw a pentagon in the grass, and put Eva, Kate and Troy in it. Then I drew the signs around them. They were intricate, and they took longer than I expected. Finally, I used glass to cut my arm, let the blood trickle onto Eva as I chanted, tears rolling down my face.
I was going to Hell for this, I was going to Hell and I deserved it. I killed them. The guilt crushed me, guilt for the car crash, guilt for betraying my God after He saved me. This was how I had repaid his mercy, how I had repaid my friends' kindness. It felt almost surreal.
I didn't stop. I couldn't. I couldn't live like this. I couldn't live without them. I had found Hell, and it was on earth.
*****
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When they woke up, the last thing they remembered was the crash. The blood, the pentagon and all signs of them being dead faded. I didn't tell them that they had died. How could I? What would I have said? Oh, yes, I used black magic to bring you back from the dead?
Their wounds were mostly healed, apart from a few cuts and scrapes. Kate was crying. Eva just stood there shaking, wide-eyed, not saying anything, clutching the tattered remains of her jacket. Troy stood next to her, muttering "oh my god, oh my god..." again and again. I only wish it had been God that had saved him.
I promised to pay him back. I didn't know how I'd get the money to replace a car, but I'd try. I thought he'd be furious about me crashing his car, but he just stared at me and said, "You better, kid. You better."
We walked until we got cell reception, and then Troy's friend picked us up and took us home. It was five o'clock on a Friday morning- thankfully, the summer holidays had started a week ago.
I climbed through my window, shakily got into my pyjamas, and crawled into bed. I touched my hand to my forehead. I could still feel dried blood. How was I going to explain that, and the numerous other cuts and bruises? My head still hurt from having being knocked out. I could feel a large lump forming. I sighed, and got out of bed. I couldn't pretend that this all had never happened. I had to pick up the pieces and deal with the aftermath, and I could only think of one way to do it.
I pulled the book out again. There was a spell there for basic healing. I got up and grabbed a bottle of ink out of my drawer - a relic from when I was a kid and my parents had gotten me it so I could write 'roman letters' in Latin on thin pieces of wood and put model clay seals on them.
I dipped a brush in the ink and painted the swirling symbol shown on the page on my forehead, looking in the mirror to make sure I got it right. I muttered the short chant and the ink shone red and disappeared. The cut was gone, and my concussion, without a trace of ever being there. I was going to Hell anyway, I figured. Why not live it up while I could.
The justification still didn't leave me any less guilty or horrified with myself. I hid the book and put the ink away. For a moment, I thought I saw the boy again, watching me, out of the corner of my eye, but it was gone when I looked he was gone. I told myself it was a hallucination and curled up in bed. Sleep came easily.
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*****
PAIN. So much pain. My mind screamed, everything screamed, unbearable heat, heat so hot it's cold, pain so unbearable it consumes you, consumes your very being, and in the middle of it, wide, wild eyes, tears, so so many tears, tangled hair, a scream so tortured it is not of this world, should never exist, a being that has merely become its pain, a being with my face, my own face, staring back and screaming....
I sat up, sweating, eyes flying open, my breathing heavy. My whole body trembled. I was awake. I was awake. I was awake. Slowly, I lay down again.
"What was that?" I muttered, not expecting an answer.
"Your soul, burning in Hell."
I screamed, but somehow I didn't make a sound. There - there he was! The boy. I saw him up close for the first time. He looked part Asian, Korean perhaps - maybe I was just racist, but I couldn't tell. He was thin, and slightly shorter than me. In a hoodie and jeans, messy black hair not quite concealing a small pair of horns, eyes so deep a black they felt like pools of what darkness is made of before it sees the light...
"You are no angel." I said softly.
He grinned. "Is that what you thought I was?"
"I thought you were punishing me for my sins."
He broke into a fit of giggles, as if what I said was absolutely hilarious. "Cassie, come on, what sins? Girl, we've barely even started here. You're right. I'm not an angel. I'm a demon."
My eyes widened, and fear gripped me. Demons. Of course. With shaking fingers, I grabbed my golden cross, which I'd had on a chain around my neck since birth, and shouted the first, most natural thing that came to mind.
"Discēdere!" A white light shone, and the demon's jacket burst open to reveal bat-like wings that gave a single flap before he disappeared.
I didn't quite know how I'd known to command him in Latin to depart, but it had come so fluidly, I wondered at myself. Perhaps, I thought, God had given me the knowledge. I was still shaking, breathing heavily. Finally, I calmed down and switched the light off to go to sleep. The shadows seemed to leap out at me immediately. I felt blind and scared, and I gripped my cross with one hand and turned the light on with the other. I had never been scared of the dark before. I suppose I had always believed the light would always be there to protect me.
I got up, unwilling to go back to bed. I was being hunted by demons. The words seemed ridiculous. Perhaps, I wondered, if I was being hunted by demons, maybe... maybe I hadn't fallen from Grace. Maybe I would be accepted by the angels. Maybe I had a chance at forgiveness, redemption... the possibility seemed too good, too desirable, too tempting to be true.
I dressed, and walked into the kitchen, putting on a pot of tea almost automatically. This was a problem that needed tea. I poured a bowl of cereal and milk and sat down, spooning it to my mouth absently.
The boy appeared again, sitting across from me. I jumped up with a yell, knocking over my bowl.
"Look, I'm sorry, I think we got off to a bad start, I didn't mean to upset you. My name's Sebastian, this is my first job, you kno-"
I grabbed the boiling kettle, tore off the lid and threw the boiling hot water at him. He yelped and disappeared.
I breathed a sigh of relief, setting the jug back down, and as I did so, Dad walked in from his morning prayer.
"Hey, honey, what happened? I heard a shout. Why's there water all over the floor?" he asked, frowning.
"Sorry. I spilt it. I was making tea. I'll clean it up." I said. He nodded.
"Didn't get much sleep last night?" he asked. My heart skipped a beat. He knew? How could he know? Had he checked on me during the night?
"How did you know?"
"Black circles under your eyes." he said, gesturing to them. I breathed an inward sigh of relief.
"Oh, yeah. Nightmares. I'm getting a few lately," I replied. Not a lie, at least.
"Remember, dreams are often signs from God."
"I'll remember, Dad. You don't need to do your whole pastor thing on me," I said with an eye roll, grabbing a cloth and cleaning up the water on the floor.
"Alright, well, I'm heading out to do my usual charity work for the homeless shelter. Give me a call if you need anything." he said, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter.
I nodded. "I will."
He left. As soon as his footsteps faded out of hearing range, I groaned in relief, and reached into my pocket for my phone to text my friends and arrange a meet-up, before realising that I didn't have it. I'd thrown it away. I could have kicked myself. It had been a smartphone, and it had been expensive. I'd have to use the money from cleaning to replace it, and I still had to pay for Troy's car... How was I going to get the money?
I sighed, stepped forward to grab my cereal bowl, and tripped on a puddle of water I hadn't seen. My hand flew out to catch my fall, and a blinding pain shot up my wrist. I yelled out, clutching it tightly. The pain intensified. My whole arm was bent at a wrong angle, I realised. It didn't take long to figure out that I'd broken it. This was the second time in the same day that I'd experienced ridiculously bad luck because of that demon. I would have cursed him to Hell, but that was rather pointless.
I felt tears running down my face, and I gritted my teeth. A tempting idea entered my head, wormed its way inside of me. A day ago, I would never have dreamed of it, even if I knew it was possible, but now, it suddenly seemed so much easier and more appealing than weeks of pain and only being able to use my left arm - especially now I was apparently on the radar of all sorts of dark creatures . I was surprised at how easily I convinced myself to do it, how easily the excuses supplied themselves. It was almost as if the devil himself was inside my head.
I flipped the book open to the right page, found the ink and used my teeth to unscrew the lid. I dipped my left arm in the ink and made the rune shakily on my arm, wincing at the pain the light touch caused. The chant came even easier this time. The ink flashed red, and the pain faded, my arm's angle correcting. I closed my eyes with a sigh, flexing my fingers.
"What did you just do?"
I turned around. Kate was standing in the doorway, watching me.
"I...I...-" My explanation stuttered to a halt as she walked over and snatched up the book before I could stop her.
"Explain."
Hello again, dear readers! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Once again, I'd really appreciate hearing your thoughts, advice, and wisdom in the comments!
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