Whack-whack-whack!
“Is it… gone?” I asked.
“I think so,” Collette said, “But I can feel its presence still, the mark of its passing.”
I shut the phone off, put it on the bed, and closed my eyes. Reaching out to the Nether was easy for me now, as easy as stretching my hand out in the dark to find a light switch and flick on a little illumination, only the sensory input was rarely visual. It was all taste and smell and touch, and sometime sound. The Nether was alive and dead all at once, a place of activity and silence, and depending on where you were when you reached out it was either more active or less. Here, in the heart of Berlin, the Nether rushed at me like a hiss of static.
Wincing, I tuned the static out and reeled my psychic senses in, focusing only on the bedroom. When the noise died out I could feel her sitting there on the other bed next to me. Though my fingers weren’t anywhere near her, she was on my fingertips, the smell of her shampoo was in my nose, the taste of her coconut body wash on my lips. And then… the bile.
It was a sensation I remembered only all too well, even if this felt more like an aftertaste than a lick.
“It’s… it’s come back,” I said.
Collette shook her head. “It couldn’t have.”
I leapt from the bed like a startled cat. “It has! It must have!” It never left, Amber, don’t be stupid. “I should have been more careful. I should have anticipated this!”
“Amber!” Collette said, and the sudden raising of her voice snapped me back into the moment. My heart was still beating loudly, but I could feel it slowing now. “Ze demon cannot hurt you anymore,” she said, “Not unless you let it.”
I shook my head. “I haven’t let it.”
“Zen it cannot touch you,” she said in a reassuring tone. “We do not know what zat was, and now iz not ze time to make rash conclusions.”
“Alright,” I said, “Alright. But that doesn’t change the fact that something is in those pictures; that something was following us last night.”
“Whatever it was it iz not here now, and it has overplayed its hand by allowing itself to be seen. We can prepare, now.”
I nodded. “A spell,” I said, “We’ll cast a spell together to ward it off, whatever it was.”
“And zen we leave,” Collette added. “We have a Necromancer to meet.”
CHAPTER 12
What we had just seen had shaken us both up, but we managed to push it to the back of our minds; at least until we found our way to a rent-a-car dealership and, well, rented a car. The witch we had to see lived a fair ways out of Berlin, and reaching the place even by overland rail was going to be impossible so we knew we needed our own mode of transport.
But as soon as we were on the road my mind went back to the figure on the pictures. The dread I had felt when I saw it, that sinking feeling in my stomach, the way my body went cold and prickled all over. How was I still so scared of it? Was it because of my impending engagement with Aaron?
I had vanquished it, the evil, once, though, and I could do it again. Demons possessed the power to put an inescapable, all-engulfing fear into even the staunchest of hearts, despite—or maybe in spite of—their incorporeal nature. But if Collette was right, then that thing in the picture—that stalker, that dark peeping tom—may not have been the same demon at all.
If so, then what was it and what did it want?
The spell we cast to protect us from the dark shape was a simple one. We stood around the mirror in the bathroom, shut off the lights, and lit a candle to serve as the only illumination in the room. Then, beneath our breaths, we chanted—thrice—a prayer of protection to the Goddess of the Moon that went a little like this: “I am protected by your might, oh gracious Goddess, day and night.”
When we finished the chant the Power was already buzzing beneath my fingertips. I closed my eyes, filling them with darkness, and bid the Power to grow and to move up along the veins and arteries in my arms, across my collarbone, into my neck and windpipe, and finally into my temples until they were pulsing with a kind of sweet pain.
After that it was a simple case of opening our eyes, visualizing ourselves disappearing, and snuffing out the candle to plunge us into complete darkness. I was trembling by the end, caught in a kind of mild bliss at the feel of the Power working through me again. I hadn’t used the Power since we were on American soil and felt almost like I had walked out of the house with no clothes on ever since. And while whoever was watching us from afar—the dark thing, or Linezka—may have noticed a blip of Power as we protected ourselves, we were gone after that.
Of course, if someone had entered our room last night they would know where to come again. No amount of Magick we could work would change that. But I was starting to suspect that the form in the pictures wasn’t real; a trick of the mind, maybe. Nothing more than an illusion in a fun-house meant to scare the pants off you. Otherwise, why wait? Why not kill us while we slept or capture us and be done with it? Why play with us?
“I think you missed our turn,” Collette said.
“Huh?” I was driving, and driving absently. “Shit. I’m sorry. We’ll turn around at the next exit. Are we sure we’re on the right track?”
Collette was holding a map between her legs. “Ze map says to follow ze B109 out of Berlin,” she said, tracing the road with her finger, “Zen drive north on ze 114 and exit at ze Naturpark Barnim. Zat was our exit.”
“I should have been paying attention; doesn’t help that I can’t read German, I guess.”
“Ze roads are numbered… and zey have English translations, too.”
“Yeah, well… whatever, next time you drive.”
“I can’t drive.”
“Then you’d best not criticize my shitty driving, huh?”
Collette’s lips curled into a smile and she turned her face to the window, away from me.
When the next exit came I took it. The German countryside was a beautiful collage of autumn oranges, browns and greens, of farms and trees and cattle and horses. Behind us, Berlin was a smidge of grey beneath an even greyer sky. I thought surely at any point the clouds would open up and wash the land clean in a mighty torrent, but they seemed to be holding; at least for now.
We found the Naturpark at about a quarter past three in the afternoon, and after veering into it found ourselves rolling along a two lane road flanked on all sides by bushy Tila trees, drooping Willows, and mighty Oaks. The forest here was dense and brown, and while the sun was merely a suggestion behind a mantle of grey clouds, the leaves on the trees still seemed to catch the light and drink it in; one last hurrah before they were to fall.
“Alright, now it’s time for the other map,” I said.
Collette folded the big map of Germany away and tucked it away into the bag she had brought with her. From inside she produced a note with some writing on it, and began to read.
“Cleave to the north and find the withered oak,” she said, “A stone throw’s from the pond that croaks. Then look to the moon and think to the reed, around the oak is the path you need.”
I sighed. “I still can’t believe he sent us a rhyme.”
“He wanted to protect his home.”
“It must be a spell, then. It can’t just be a rhyme. See any Oaks?”
“Oui. But a withered oak? Non.”
I leaned closer to the steering wheel to get a better look at my surroundings as I drove—like leaning forward really helped at all—and scanned the surrounding area for oaks. Collette was right. There were loads of oaks. But I suspected this one, the withered oak, would be easily recognizable. I had, after all, seen my fair share of withered trees in the past. But after an hour or so of driving north—and I was sure we were going north, I just knew—we weren’t any closer to finding it.
“How big is this park anyway?” I asked, “Seems like we’ve been driving on the same road, and in the same direction, for ages.”
Collette pressed her lips into a thin line. Her eyes narrowed i
nto pensive slits. “I think… we are in ze grip of a powerful spell.”
“Magick? I can’t sense—” But I could. Now that she had mentioned it, I could sense it. And when I pulled over by the side of the road, stopped the car, and killed the engine, I could feel it even more strongly. A vibration like the rippling of water in a pond was coming in long, drawn-out waves. The Currents of Magick were strong here, and we were caught in them.
“I do not know when we entered zis magick zone, but we will not be able to leave until we find zis Witch.”
“I don’t think that’ll be so hard,” I said.
She looked at me, quizzically, and I tilted her chin the other way, toward her window. The trees were thinner here and looked less like a crowd at a rock concert and more like a crowd in a mall. Between them was the glint of water touched by faint, filtered sunlight, and I knew we were at the exact right spot.
“C’mon,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt and exiting the car.
I did the same and went around to the back seat door, opened it, and pulled out a hold all bag containing the books we had brought over from the bookstore. It weighed a ton, but I managed to sling it over my shoulder and after a few moments it didn’t much bother me anymore. Then I gave the door of the rented Hybrid car a good shove, locked it, and walked over to the side of the road where Collette was standing.
The air here was fresh and crisp; natural and untouched by man. It filled my lungs and danced on my face and made me prickle all over with delight. But there was something else. In the distance I heard it, like a signal-flare shining bright in the night sky.
Croak. Rib-Croak.
“This is definitely it,” I said, feeling the swell of excitement building inside my chest.
I tugged on Collette’s hand and led her over the banister and into the woods. The ground was wet and soft beneath my feet, but the fallen leaves had a satisfying crunch to them. Around and above us the birds were chirping, singing our approach, and when the pond came into full view—glittering, calm, and green—so too did we find the withered oak.
It was tall and old. The bark was as black as night and its hands were crooked and bent, and while the tree rose out of the ground on a thick stump it seemed to have been growing in an arch over the pond and looked almost like a diver, forever locked in a mid-dive pose. I wondered what a time lapse video of the tree’s growth would have looked like if someone had been around to take it.
Collette approached the tree and, with an outstretched hand, touched the bark. “It iz cold,” she said.
I approached and touched it too, and felt the coldness like she did, and then I remembered the day I met her out in the woods. Her very presence was turning the land cold and bleak, a result of her out of control powers. This situation wasn’t at all like my first encounter with Collette. The forest around this tree was bright and alive, and animals weren’t dropping dead from the sky.
“Didn’t you say he was a Necromancer?” I asked.
“Oui,” she said, smiling at the tree, “But he iz in complete control. He must be older zan even me.”
“And you’re one hundred and thirty nine.” I still couldn’t believe it. “One hundred and thirty nine. Gods. How is it going to look when I get you a ‘congratulations on your 140th birthday’ card next year?”
Collette giggled, and for a moment she sounded young. Too young even for the twenty something year old she appeared to be now. “Je ne sais pas, ma cherie.”
I… don’t… know? Is that what she said? “Anyway, what do we do now?”
She produced the note again and read the rhyme. “We found ze oak,” she said, “And now we look for ze reeds.”
“Reeds,” I echoed, turning around and looking toward the pond.
If my education was up to par, reeds grew close to bodies of water. So I moved away from the tree, padded down the light slope toward the unmoving shore, and there they were. I couldn’t tell any species of reed apart from any other, but I knew what the cattail type looked like because they looked kinda like corn dogs. After a quick search, avoiding the occasional leaping frog, I found some.
“Here,” I called, and Collette came to where I was but didn’t approach the water. “These are definitely reeds,” I said, pulling one up out of the ground.
Collette’s brow furrowed.
“What is it?”
She glanced at the tree, then up at the sky, and then looked at the reeds. “Something doesn’t seem right.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, approaching with the reed in hand.
“Zis part about ze moon,” she said, showing me the note.
I read it again, then again. Look to the moon, think to the reed, around the oak is the path you need. “Are we too early? Should we have come at night?”
She shook her head. “I think we have zis wrong.”
“Things would be easier if we could use magick,” I said, sighing and dropping the reed to the ground. Sorry, I thought.
“Non, Magick would not make things easier. Zis is a riddle we must solve by ourselves.”
“A riddle… look to the moon, think to the reed.”
A frog croaked nearby and I heard a plop as it threw itself into the pond. The water rippled lightly, and the ripples seemed to point toward the withered oak. My eyes followed a crooked stump into the grey sky, and suddenly it came to me.
“Rede!” I said, causing Collette to jerk a little. “Not reed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean R E D E as in the Wiccan Rede, not R E E D as in the plant. Is it possible you misunderstood him?”
“It is. He spoke, I wrote.”
“The Wiccan Rede,” I said, enjoying the trickle of excitement running through me. “I know it. Gods, I lived it.”
“How do you know ze Wiccan Rede is being referenced here?”
“Deosil go by the waxing moon, chanting out the joyful tune. Widdershins go when the moon doth wane, and the werewolf howls by the dread wolfsbane.”
Collette’s eyes widened. “Desoil is old language. It means clockwise.”
“And widdershins is anti-clockwise!”
“So… iz ze moon waxing or waning?”
“Fuck,” I said, looking up at the sky as we made our way back to the tree. “I don’t know. I know it’s a gibbous moon tonight, but I’m not sure if it’s growing or shrinking.”
“And I suspect we will only have one chance. If we get it wrong we will not be allowed entry.”
Waning.
I halted, spun around, and then looked at Collette. “Did you hear something?” I asked.
Collette shook her head.
Around I went again, eyes and ears peeled, searching, but heard only the whisper of the trees. More and more I was beginning to feel like I hadn’t heard anything at all, that the whisper hadn’t even been language; it had just been a feeling, an instinct given voice by my rational mind. Where the instinct had come from I didn’t know, but it was so total and urgent that I knew—without a doubt—to ignore it would have been a mistake.
I took Collette’s hand, stepped toward the withered oak with its crooked arms, and then walked around it anti-clockwise three times.
CHAPTER 13
Damien came awake like a cat in the dark. “Lily!” he screamed, hands thrusting outward as if to catch someone who was falling away from him, falling into a pit of smoldering Dark Fire. But as his heart slowed and his vision came to him in that gradual, sleepy way it does sometimes immediately after waking, he realized he was only reaching for a ghost. A ghost that didn’t look like Lily, but rather someone he thought he knew.
He ran his hands through his hair and felt the cold, clammy, wet feeling of sweat at the back of his neck. It was on his chest and shoulders too, and his pillow. It took him a moment to regain himself, but eventually his legs listened to his brain and he swung them out of bed. He sat there for a moment, with his elbows on his knees and his hands wrapped around the back of his head, waiting for the moment to pass, and
then jerked up at the sound of someone banging frantically on his bedroom door.
His heart leapt into his throat again, but this time it wasn’t terror; only surprise. The moment passed. Damien stood, walked to the door, opened it, and Aaron Cooper spilled into the room like a rush of water.
“Aaron,” Damien said, “You scared the shit out of me, man. What is it?”
“She’s in trouble,” he said. “I know she’s in trouble.”
“Who? Amber?”
“Yes, fucking Amber! Who else?”
Aaron’s face had been the face of a man that hadn’t had much sleep when he walked through the door, but now it was turning red with the kind of anger that could turn the temperature up in a room.
“Okay, I need you to relax and tell me what happened,” Damien said, hands outstretched in front of him.
Aaron swallowed, paused, and said “I called her, or she called me. And when I picked up the phone I heard… something… on the other end of the line.”
“What was it?”
“I don’t know.”
But Damien thought Aaron did know, or at least he suspected he knew. “I’m gonna get Frank,” Damien said.
“No,” Aaron said, “He isn’t in the house. I don’t think he came home last night.”
“Then you’re gonna have to tell me what you think you know.”
Aaron hesitated, thought, then closed his eyes and breathed a deep breath. Damien hadn’t seen the blackness of Aaron’s nails until now, nor had he noticed just how much they resembled little bits of razor-wire or seen how they drank in the dawn-light filtering in from the Eastern facing window. But he had noticed them now, and he saw how they shank before his very eyes and seemed to lose their edge of deadliness in a manner of seconds.
“I think Amber’s in danger,” Aaron said, “More than she knows. And maybe we’re all in danger too.”
“What kind of danger?” Damien asked. He became immediately aware that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Last night had been warm for an October eve and he had taken it off and thrown it over the chair by his desk before getting into bed. He reached for it now and slipped it on. It smelt like yesterday.