Sacrifice (14 page)

She picked through texts that were both foreign and ancient—page edges crumbling to dust when she opened them—to fairly new, American-published softcovers. From what she could tell, they all had a similar theme: the literal struggle between good and evil. They all featured stories, art and discussions of angels battling demons on the battlefield of earth.

Ariana pulled a thin, black cloth-bound volume from the second shelf. In gold leaf, on the cover, it said simply:
The Book of the Curburide.

She turned to the inside, and smiled at the frontispiece, a black and white sketch of a sleeping man in his bed, stocking cap twisted against his pillow. In the air above him, two figures emerged from nowhere. Their faces were long and pointed, they seemed engaged in some otherworldly conversation; one of them was looking at the other, his mouth open in speech to display equally long and wicked-looking teeth as he pointed at the sleeping form below. They both seemed to be hanging or emerging from some other realm; only their torsos and heads were visible. The artist had cut them off abruptly at the waist. The caption beneath it read:

Curburide are drawn through the cracks by vicious dreams and evil deeds.

The next page said the book had been published by the Edinborough Abbey Press in 1827. The author was listed as Msr. Patrick O’Connor.

She flipped the page and began to read:

C
HAPTER
O
NE

Throughout human history, there have been numerous reports of demons and spirits breaking through the barriers of hell to cavort and cause havoc, with the voluntary assistance of men and women here on earth. Over the ages, witches have been known to take demons as familiars, using the otherworldly talents of the spirit to gain power and wealth in this realm, as the demon feeds off of their lusts and desires. But demons, just as humans, come in all shapes and sizes. The more powerful the demon, the more difficult it is to unlock the bindings that hold it in hell, safely removed from contact with mankind. There are Hymantic demons, dull-witted and slow-moving creatures which exist in the Ninth Circle and possess relatively few powers. These, not surprisingly, are the easiest demons to call and capture. Many a witch throughout time has found the way to ensnare a demon, only to find herself with a useless Hymantic devil as her familiar. Since the spells of binding, once performed, generally lock the witch to the demon for life in a symbiotic relationship, this is an especially disconcerting discovery for a witch to make.

Also, there are the Syphitic demons, sometimes known as Succubi and Incubi. These spirits gain power by assuming human form and seducing men and women as they sleep. While these creatures have been known to feed on unknowing men and women, most often they are called to our plane by one skilled in the demonic arts. Succubi and Incubi have been used by witches as an invisible poison sent to their enemies. The demons gain power from their sexual intercourse with humans while the victim is slowly drained of life—often with the victim’s consent, as the experience is reportedly pleasurable beyond the scope of human-to-human relations.

There are many other forms and manifestations of demons on earth, but the most powerful and dangerous are the Curburide. These are creatures that feed on the most evil of human acts. Vicious torture, sadistic and deadly sexual relations and mass murder serve as the sustenance for these demons. Not surprisingly, witches throughout the ages have performed ritual killings to attract the attention and servitude of these creatures, who, when manifesting in the earthly realm, possess astounding and devastating power. Not surprisingly, in the architecture of the afterworld, the Curburide are the most closely guarded of demons and have great difficulty slipping through their bonds to appear on earth. It takes a long period of dedicated ritual and Calling for a witch to bring the Curburide through to the earthly realm. And once manifested, the demons are rarely bound to the will of the witch; they are extraordinarily powerful and independent, and many a witch has met her just and painful end at the hands of a Curburide spirit that has been brought through to the earthly realm without adequate binding spells.

In this volume, I will document the most infamous Curburide apparitions that have been recorded. No doubt there are hundreds of incidents that have gone unreported over human history. But from the documented instances of Curburide appearances, it is clear that this is the most deadly and difficult of the demons of hell to control. The Curburide are seductive, sinister creatures whose sole mission is to violate and eviscerate humankind.

The hairs on the back of Ariana’s neck raised as she read the text recorded nearly 200 years before on these yellowed, flaking pages. She had heard the legend of the succubus before, but never of the Curburide. She decided to take that, and a more recent volume titled
Demonic Possessions Through the Ages
back to her room to study further.

Ariana turned off the light in the tiny, hidden library and pulled the door shut behind her, checking the knob afterwards to make sure it had locked. Mother Martha was back in the Lives of the Saints aisle, and smiled at the girl as she showed the old woman her choices.

“She studied a lot about demons and angels, didn’t she?” Ariana asked, holding the book on
Demonic Possessions
out for the nun to see.

Mother Martha nodded. “It was a favorite subject of hers.”

She leafed through the book’s pages, and then looked Ariana sternly in the eye. “Just remember as you read these, that the Church frowns these days on stories of possession and demons. It is the belief now that heaven and hell are separate realms that living men cannot interact with. So most of Sister Augustina’s collection would be dismissed by our cardinals and theologians today.”

“I understand,” Ariana said. “I won’t bring these up in class!”

The older sister put her hand on Ariana’s shoulder. “The world is wider than we will ever know, child. There are things that we cannot see, and forces at work that are best for us not to know about. Be mindful of that as you read; and don’t be afraid to put some knowledge back on the shelf, unread and unlearned. There are some things it is best not to know.”

“Thanks, Mother Martha,” Ariana said. “I’m just curious, that’s all. I won’t keep reading if anything bothers me.”

The older nun pursed her lips in thought.

“If you have questions, come to me, and I’ll answer what I can. Now run along; you’re going to be late for morning prayer.”

Ariana hurried back to the “dorm” side of the convent and hid the books in her dresser drawer beneath her underwear. Then she went to morning prayer, but instead of focusing on the Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s, her mind kept slipping back to the books she knew awaited her at the end of the day. She wanted to know more. Her stomach tingled when she thought of the words she had read. She rolled the word around in her mind, wondering if such a being could really exist.
Curburide,
she thought.
Curburide.

“So, my guess is you never returned that book to the old nun’s library,” Jeremy said, stubbing out his fourth cigarette of the morning. He stretched, groaning at the aches and pains from last night’s violence, and stood, walking across the room to the hotel window.

“No,” Ariana said. “I returned the other book to Mother Martha the next week, and gave her an old theology textbook I’d picked up at a used bookstore in place of
The Book of the Curburide.
She didn’t notice the difference. She probably would never have known the difference if I’d given her back a couple of cookbooks. She was pretty old, and not very sharp.”

“So, does the book say that you have to sacrifice a man?” Jeremy asked, looking back at her from the window. Ariana shook her head, grimacing at the pain the motion brought.

“No,” she said. “Just that it has to be a person primed for sex. And after they are sacrificed, the rituals must be observed.”

Jeremy came and sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

“You’d like to stay alive to finish calling these demons, wouldn’t you?” he asked rhetorically. She nodded.

“I’d like to stay alive and not become one of your sacrifices,” he said. “I think we can make a deal here and both leave this room alive. But you have to agree to do one thing.”

The corners of Ariana’s lips twisted up higher and higher as Jeremy unveiled his plan. When he was finished, he folded his arms across his chest and set his chin to granite, awaiting her reaction. It was not long in coming.

“I think we’re going to make a great team,” she pronounced.

Terrel Beach was not dotted with umbrellas or covered with a patchwork quilt of garish towels and oily, sweating bodies. That didn’t stop Cindy from setting up an electric yellow towel, stripping off the white T-shirt (it read
What are YOU lookin’ at?
) and shimmying out of her denim shorts. It was like her own private beach, and Cindy had always felt free and safe here. Even when she hadn’t been.

Too many bodies had washed up on shore here after taking that oddly frequent fall from the cliff for most people to feel comfortable swimming here. But Cindy knew all that was over now. The spirit, Malachai, had left its residence in the cliff which loomed over the bay, and would no longer be accepting sacrifices from the mothers of Terrel.

Feet sinking in the soft, hot sand, Cindy looked at the black crag and felt a cloud of remorse smother the day’s sunshine. The last time she’d been here, wearing this very same Day-Glo bikini, Joe had been with her. He’d complimented her on her tan and her sexy suit and the way her long blonde hair accented the brown of her skin. They had made love that night at his apartment. And not long after that, she had gone into the bowels of Terrel Cliff with him and Malachai had taken possession of her body, using her as a lure for Joe, almost getting him killed.

He had forgiven her that, but once Joe had struck a new covenant with the demon and Malachai had become his constant companion, things hadn’t been the same between them. They had dated awhile, but slowly he drew back from her, and then one day he had called and said he’d quit his job at the paper and was leaving town.

Her eyes misted up thinking of that last conversation. What if she’d begged him harder to stay? What if she’d driven to his apartment and planted herself in front of the door? Could he have really run from her if she’d forced him to say goodbye to her face?

It didn’t matter. She’d lost the two most important guys in her life to the cliff. The first, James, had jumped from it to his death, to fulfill the promise that his mother had made to Malachai. And then she had met Joe—serious, shy Joe—who had healed her still-bleeding heart from aching at the loss of James. Joe had romanced her with his adorable clumsiness, and drawn her into his investigation of the deaths that seemed to circle the cliff like a flock of buzzards. But his curiosity had nearly killed them both, and his solution had been to take Malachai into his head when they arrived at an impasse in the caves deep inside the cliff. She had lost him then, she knew it now. At first she’d kissed and hugged him, her savior. But the troubled looks had started at that moment, and by the time he had called her to say goodbye, it was no surprise to her. He was haunted by Malachai, and couldn’t stay in Terrel anymore. Never mind that Malachai was going to be with him wherever he ran.

Maybe that’s what she needed to do, too, Cindy thought, walking alone towards the edge of the cool blue-green water. Now that Terrel had no hold over her, spiritual or romantic, maybe it was time to leave.

She walked out into the waves, bracing herself against the crash of the water as it sucked outwards towards the ocean, and then rolled back in, slapping her thighs like an icy board. When its level ranged from thigh-high to belly-deep, Cindy stopped and waited for a wave to come in. Just before the next one hit, she leapt into the air and arced into the oncoming wave, cutting into the sea with her hands full-forward, and disappearing below the white foam of the crest.

There was nothing left for her here but the ocean, she thought, and kicked her way down to slip along the smooth sea fronds below.

“So now what?” Alex asked.

“You actually chopped up your parents with an axe?” Joe stared at the innocent-looking teen lying next to him.

“They kept me chained in the basement, naked, without food, and were about to burn me at the stake for being a witch,” Alex said, punching him in the shoulder. “What would you have done, kissed them on the cheek and said thanks?”

Joe laughed. “No, I s’pose not. I guess I’ll try not to do anything to piss you off too badly as long as you’re riding with me, though.”

She propped herself up on her elbow, her freckles spreading as her lips opened to a grin. “You mean I can stay? You’re not going to ditch me?”

“As long as you promise not to hack me into bits, or carve me up with a pocketknife or something, no. You’ve been messed up by demons just like I have, and one demon in particular has brought us together. It’s about time we found out exactly why.”

“You think he wants something from us?”

“Malachai doesn’t do anything out of the goodness of his heart. He doesn’t have one. Either he led you to me so that you would slice me up and set him free, or he needs you for something else.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Joe,” she promised.

“Heard that before.”

“I mean it,” she insisted, crawling over to lean on his chest. “I like you. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You’ve been really good to me.”

Joe looked into her eyes and saw truth pooled there. Something familiar stirred in his heart, and he put his hands on her shoulders. They were small but strong, and he longed to run his hands along her arms, and down her ribs to her waist…

“Malachai,” he called out loud, breaking this unwanted train of thought. He looked away from her, out into the dark stand of ancient pines. “Malachai, it’s time for some answers.”

The campfire flared, sparks spitting up into the air as a log settled and waves of heat shimmered above the tongues of fire. The air rippled and curved as the fire died back down, and an almost invisible figure rose from the center of the fire and stepped back to the opposite side of the flames from where Joe and Alex lay. The air seemed to fold around the figure giving it shape where the light refracted at its edges, as it stepped across the brown, matted grass and then sat its shimmering haunches on a log.

The eyes glowed electric blue from the shadowed face, and Alex grabbed Joe’s arm as the spirit lifted an arm and pointed at them.

“Ask the right questions if you want the answers you seek,” it said out loud, and Joe recognized its voice as Malachai’s. It was deeper, more foreboding when not lodged inside his head, but it was definitely the demon.

“Why did you bring Alex to me?” Joe asked.

“She was a friend of mine,” the demon replied. “And she needed my help.”

“Why did you seek out her friendship?” Joe countered.

“Am I only to be friends with you, then, master?” the demon asked, drawing out and exaggerating the word
master.

“Enough games, Malachai,” Joe said. “There is a reason that you want Alex and me together, and I demand that you tell us what it is.”

“I thought you’d make a cute couple,” the demon jeered, standing and walking towards them. It put a ghostly hand on Alex’s shoulder, and gestured with his free hand.

“And I was right,” Malachai finished.

Alex drew back, scooting away from Joe and the demon, and Joe raised a finger at the hazy figure.

“Does this have to do with the Curburide?” Joe asked.

“Perhaps,” Malachai said. “You’re getting warm.”

“Jesus,” Joe swore.

“No, Malachai,” the demon answered. “Though I can see how you’d be confused.”

“Malachai, please,” Alex said, finally entering the fray. “You helped me. You saved me. But why? What do you want from me?”

The demon shimmered, as if he were a pool of water that a rock had skipped across. Then his image seemed to strengthen, and Joe and Alex could see his features clearly. His eyes still shone bright, but now his craggy cheeks and dense, dark beard became visible, as well as the long black cloak that covered most of his body.

“I am not allowed to want,” he announced, bending closer to Joe’s face. “I am but a servant to my master.”

Joe laughed.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I can always count on you. To get me killed.”

“By the terms of our covenant,” Malachai announced, suddenly sounding strained and formal, “I am yours to command. Mine is not to act independently or to guide you in matters of church and state. I do your bidding, master.”

“What the hell, Malachai?” Joe asked. He opened his mouth to say more, but then saw the look in the demon’s eyes. The spirit itself looked haunted.

“Okay,” Joe said. “You are not the mastermind behind bringing Alex to me. It just happened. But now that she’s here, I’m guessing there’s a use for her spirit sight. She could probably help me against the Curburide somehow, right?”

“If you were to choose to stop them from breaking through the barriers into this world and destroying all of your kind, yes,” Malachai said. “She could be very helpful if you were to embark on such a quest.”

“I see,” Joe said, looking at Alex to gauge her reaction. The girl raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“And if we were to begin such a foolhardy quest, where would we go?”

The demon grinned, pleased that Joe was playing along.

“Well, you’re the reporter,” the demon said, “but, I imagine you would go back to the beginning.”

“And where was the beginning?” Joe asked.

“The first sacrifice occurred in San Francisco, as you know,” Malachai said. “It was only a couple weeks ago, so the trail should still be warm.” The demon leaned forward to stare at Alex. “And if any of the Curburide are lingering there, waiting for the chain to be forged,
she
should be able to see them.”

“Sounds like a witch hunt,” Joe said.

The demon grinned and began to fade.

“And if we find one?” Joe called after him.

“Run,” Malachai advised, and disappeared.

“Well, that was helpful,” Joe said, turning to Alex. “He’s difficult to deal with normally, but, talk about pulling teeth!”

“It seemed like he was forbidden to talk about it,” she said.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “Though I can’t think by who.”

“How did you bind him to you in the first place?” she asked. “Could it be the terms you placed on him somehow?”

Joe shook his head. “No, all I did was call him by name and demand that he pledge himself and his power to me.”

“Maybe it has something to do with his being allowed to stay on earth,” she suggested.

He shrugged.

“Whatever it is, we now know he wants us to go to San Francisco. I’ve got a car, a couple of grand and no job. You’ve got no parents, no car and are wanted for questioning in a brutal double-murder case. Feel like a road trip?”

Alex beamed.

“Sure.”

Joe cooked a pork roast over the fire for dinner, since he’d loaded the car with supplies, and afterwards they lay back on the ground and stared up at the stars. After a while, Alex scooted closer and rested her head on his chest. He stifled the urge to pull her even closer.

“Have you ever really looked at how many stars there are?” he said instead, and she drew in a long, slow breath.

“It’s amazing,” she said, drawing invisible lines in the air between the lights. “Millions and millions of them, and all of them billions of miles away.”

“Think there are demons on other planets?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think there are demons everywhere.”

“Nice attitude,” he laughed.

“Evil seems to be stronger than good,” she said.

“Your parents didn’t win, did they?”

“No,” she said rolling across his chest to straddle him, “but I had the help of an evil spirit. Maybe they
were
the good guys.”

“Hmmm.”

Joe put his arms around her and gave her a hug, pulling her close.

“I still think good won over evil,” he whispered in her ear. “Whaddya say about catching some sleep. We’ve got a long drive tomorrow.”

She pushed back from him and nodded, picking up pots and dishes and keeping her eyes from meeting his. He’d embarrassed her. Good. It should keep them apart for at least another night. Joe bit his lip and rolled to his feet.

Dangerous waters here, indeed.

Alex was quiet the next morning, and Joe didn’t push the issue. He wound the car back down the mountain and headed north to merge back on I-80 West, towards Salt Lake City. It would take at least a day of nonstop driving to get to California, and he hoped the girl could spell him a couple hours if he got tired. Of course, if the cops pulled them over…

The morning passed uneventfully, and Joe pulled off around 1 p.m. to find lunch in a small town. Just off the highway, he pulled into a truck stop and filled the car with gas. They walked into the diner section of the truck stop after, and sat down on some art deco-era stools across the counter from the grill.

“I’ll have the cheeseburger and fries, everything on it,” Joe told the pinstripe uniformed waitress after scanning the plastic-coated one-page menu. Alex followed suit. The waitress—a portly middle-aged woman with dirty blonde, tightly kinked curls peeking out from beneath her pink and white cap—disappeared with their order through hanging silver doors to the kitchen.

The place was modeled after a ‘50s drive-in, with red vinyl booths and formica counters. An old jukebox separated the men’s and women’s bathrooms, and Alex excused herself to use the latter. There was only one other person in the place with them, an old man in a faded blue jacket at the far end of the counter. Joe noticed him, but didn’t think more about him until Alex came back.

“Everything come out alright?” he asked idly, and she snorted.

“Like a thunderstorm,” she said. “Thunder and lightning and everything.”

“You playing with Malachai again, or taking a leak?” he countered, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she elbowed him and nodded in the direction of the old man, leaning back to put Joe’s body in between them so that he couldn’t see her.

“What’s up with him?” she asked. “He won’t stop looking at us.”

Joe looked at the man again, and noticed the bright gleam of the eyes that did seem to be awfully focused in his direction.

“Can I help you?” Joe asked. He’d found it never hurt to be bold.

The man grinned.

“They’re coming,” the man said, and began to laugh out loud. “They’re coming.”

“Who?” Joe said as Alex’s grip tightened on his arm, but just then the swinging doors crashed open and the waitress bustled through, a plate in each hand.

“They’re hot, so watch yourselves,” she warned, slapping the heavy white ceramic plates down in front of them, fries rolling off onto the counter.

“Ketchup for your fries?” she asked, and Alex said sure. The woman leaned to her right, reached under the counter and came back with an unmarked plastic container with a thin funnel at its end.

When she stepped back toward the kitchen, Joe looked at the other end of the counter. The old man had vanished.

“Malachai,” he hissed under his breath.

It wasn’t me,
a voice said in his mind.
There are others who are concerned about current events as well.

Why are they talking to me about it?

They know you are on the trail. They hope you will hurry.

“What did he say?” Alex asked.

“He said we’d better eat fast and get back on the road,” Joe growled, lifting his burger. “Apparently we’re the only game in town, and we have a cheerleading squad.”