Evil in Me, page 16
Lord Sheelbeth attacked these demons, destroyed them, and after doing so, released their prisoners: a harpy, a few bags of fairies, a gnome, and two very grateful goblins. There was one other being—a ghostly thing bound in a jug like a jinn. It was Beel, the sheid. They’d tortured him, all but destroyed him. Lord Sheelbeth brought him home and, using her arts, healed him, made him whole again.
And you had been so grateful then, Beel. Had you not? Why? Because you knew your fate. Knew that the demons would have tortured you for endless ages, until they had turned you into one of them, another twisted servant of Satan.
So, where is your gratitude now, Beel? Now, when I need you most. Have you forgotten your oath to me, forgotten how you wished to serve me, to repay me for my favor? What happened, Beel?
Lord Sheelbeth sighed. “The Baalei Shem … that is what happened.”
After the Baalei Shem cast Lord Sheelbeth down, trapped her in her underworld prison, they thought the ring dead and stored it away with other heretical relics. What they didn’t understand was that the ring was part of Lord Sheelbeth, made of her own flesh—alive. That even though Lord Sheelbeth was trapped in another realm, she was still one with the ring. So, none noticed her eye watching them, scheming, waiting for the right moment to strike.
All went well at first. With the help of Beel, they possessed one of the wizards, compelling him to murder several of his brethren and burn the temple to the ground.
After that it was a crusade to gather souls, as many as they could, for souls were the source of Lord Sheelbeth’s power. And with enough, she could weld their song into a spell, open a conduit between their prison and the ring to escape back into the earthly realm.
But the task proved greater than even Lord Sheelbeth imagined, the pace arduous. How many souls did they need—hundreds, thousands? Even Lord Sheelbeth wondered if they’d be able to gather enough before the fabled end of days.
Beel became overwhelmed, the weight of this dreadful task too much for his fragile mind. He lost focus, growing ever more unstable, chasing birds instead of doing his part.
When, due to Beel’s daydreaming, the Baalei Shem almost captured the ring, Lord Sheelbeth knew something drastic must be done. That was when she began using the fire to burn away Beel’s derangement, cleanse his soul, to give him the strength to stay on task.
It wasn’t enough, Beel’s mind wandered away at a most crucial moment and the wizards captured the ring.
“Ah, Beel, if only I could have given you more strength.”
This time, the wizards locked the ring away, sealed it in a copper box, and there it stayed for centuries until … until Adam opened it.
“Adam, now Ruby. Freedom in our grasp. Why, why Beel, can you not see this?”
She stopped pacing, concentrated on Beel, trying to peer into his soul, trying to hear the people, to understand what was being said. Being within, Beel absorbed languages almost instantly, even those of beasts. It wasn’t so easy for Sheelbeth. Still, over the centuries, she’d mastered dozens of languages and dialects. But she found this modern English to be confusing at times.
“Spells, I believe they are discussing spells,” she said, talking to the denizens sharing her small cavern, the demon slaves and her worms, her lovely worms. “They have the spell book … but these fools seem not to know what they are doing. It could be our doom, or … our salvation. We must be ready.”
She mounted the steps to her throne, took a seat. “Here, demons,” she called. “Before me, now.”
The snake beasts, the ones with the rotten faces of monkeys and jackals, slithered out from their craggy dens around the throne, piling together in a squirming heap at her feet.
“Drummers,” she called. “To me, now!”
The hunched abominations came forward, keeping their heads down.
Lord Sheelbeth looked them over, debating which of the drummers was the most horrible, the most capable of slaughtering a room full of people.
“Vutto, kneel before me.”
The one with the long, jagged talons and claws knelt before her.
“Are you hungry, Vutto?”
“Yah, always hungry.”
“Good.”
Lord Sheelbeth closed her one eye and began to sing to the worms and the worms began to sing to Lord Sheelbeth.
DEMONS
David walked over to a glass cabinet, opened it, and retrieved four ancient clay bowls, each a different shade of gray, warped and chipped, blackened around the top as though from smoke and fire, all about the size of a typical salad bowl. “Incantation bowls. We’ll need these.” He held them up to the light, studying the symbols along the inside lip. “Just have to make sure we get the right ones.”
“What’ll happen if we get the wrong ones?” Ruby asked.
“Well, some of these are spirit bowls and some are demon bowls. Can be hard to tell which is which sometimes. I’m thinking we don’t want the demon bowls.”
“No,” Mr. Rosenfeld added. “Most certainly not.”
“Ah, okay.” David set one aside. “Definitely not that one. See that, looks kinda like the letter O but with horns. That means demon. Oh, and look, it’s on this one too.” He set both of them aside. “So maybe one of these two other ones will be okay. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Alright, we’re going with this one.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ruby said.
David shrugged. “Should be okay.”
“Should be?” Ruby sucked in a deep breath. “I’m so screwed.”
David checked his notes. “Okay, Ruby, going to need a few things from you.” He went over to a drawer and came back with a pair of scissors and nail clippers. He handed her the scissors. “First, a clump of your hair.”
Ruby took them and clipped about an inch off the bottom, dropped it in the bowl.
“More. Think of making a nest in the bowl. Pretty much have to fill it up.”
“Shit, really?
“Really.”
She cut more, not even trying to make it symmetrical, just hacked off most the hair along the right side of her head. She rolled it into a ball and set it in the bowl. “You happy now?”
David grinned. “You look kinda funny.”
“Fuck you.”
He laughed, but it was a nervous laugh.
“Okay, nail clippings. Finger and toes.”
Ruby obliged, conceding they needed to be clipped anyway. The ones on her ring hand had all turned black. “Think I should include these?”
“I guess,” David said.
“Everyone is sure doing a lot of guessing.”
“Yeah, we’re playing with fire here, for sure.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be trying to boost my confidence?”
“I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”
“Oh, you gotta do better than that.”
“I’m going to get the fire extinguisher. Y’know, just in case.”
“Really? Lord, please help me out here.”
David returned a moment later with a small fire extinguisher, setting it on the table next to the bowl.
“Did you check that it’s safe for putting out hellfire?” Ruby asked
David laughed. “Says it’s safe for grease fires. Gotta be about the same. Right?”
Ruby groaned.
“Here, maybe this?” Mr. Rosenfeld pulled the chalice containing the angel blood out of his bag and set it on the table. “Just in case.”
“What’s that?” David asked.
“Let’s just say it’s another type of fire extinguisher.”
David’s eyes lit up with interest, but Mr. Rosenfeld held up his hand. “Later, David. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“Stay focused,” David replied. “I know, I know. Okay, Ruby, now spit into the bowl.”
“You want a loogie, or just spit?”
“I think the more of you the better.”
Ruby hocked up a good one and spat. “Should I pee in there as well?”
“I see no request for urine, but we will need some blood.”
“Oh, blood, of course. Seen enough horror movies to know you always need blood.”
“Blood is the currency of the dead,” Beel put in.
“Thank you for that, Beel.”
“Oh,” David said. “Speaking of blood, I forgot to add that we need to carve this symbol into your flesh.” He pointed to the magic mark. It looked like a crescent moon, with two spikes driven through it, forming a crude cross.
“Fuck, really?”
David winced. “Yeah … sorry.”
“Has to be my blood I guess?”
“Yeah, but you get to pick the spot.”
“Well, gosh, that’ll make it fun.”
David retrieved a kitchen knife and handed it to her. “I sterilized it.”
Ruby took it and began trying to figure out which bit of her flesh would hurt the least to carve into.
“Okay,” David said. “There’s an order to this. I light your hair, then you cut the mark, letting the blood drip into the bowl. So, Ruby, just tell me when you’re ready.”
“Don’t I need to chant some kind of spell?”
“It doesn’t say anything about that.”
“I think the bowl does that,” Mr. Rosenfeld put in. “Calls the spirits.”
“Yes, the bowl calls them,” Beel spoke. “When they come, you talk to them, the spirits, as you would to anyone. Tell them what it is you wish.”
Ruby felt like crying. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
David pulled out his lighter, flipped it open and flicked on the flame. “Everyone ready?”
“No,” Ruby said flatly, as she set the knife about midway up on her left forearm, on the inner side where the flesh was softer.
David put the flame to the hair, it smoldered, then began to burn.
Ruby cut the mark—which amounted to a C shape with two marks slashed through it, forming a cross. She grimaced, trying to keep the cut as shallow as she could. Blood pooled and dripped. She’d cut deeper than she meant and a lot of blood spilled into the bowl.
Nothing happened.
Everyone exchanged tense glances, waited, then waited some more.
“It didn’t work,” Ruby said.
“Maybe we need more blood,” Josh put in.
“I don’t think so,” David said. “Look!”
The blood began to crawl up the inside of the bowl, to the symbols, into the symbols. All at once the flame shot up almost to the ceiling, then was gone, leaving the room full of dense red smoke and the smell of burning hair. The lights went out, leaving the room illuminated by an eerie green flame burning around the rim of the bowl.
Ruby coughed, waved her hand in front of her face, squinting, trying to see everyone. Someone was standing next to her; she thought it was David. It wasn’t. She gasped. It was a shadowy figure, a woman. There were others.
“Do you see them?” David asked in a whisper.
“Yes,” Mr. Rosenfeld said.
A soft, warm breeze drifted through, smelling of moldering dirt, pushing the smoke about and revealing several hazy figures. Even as Ruby watched, more materialized, at least a dozen of them now shared the room. Their forms sharpened as they drew near, men and women. A few were nude, others in shrouds, most in garb from bygone eras: a man in a Civil War uniform with a rope around his neck, another wearing buckskin; a lady in a stately Victorian dress, another in her nightgown. Ruby recognized the two children from the attic. There was even a dog, a Labrador Retriever. Some of them appeared almost solid, others wispy things she could barely see. All of them stared at the dim flame.
“This is amazing,” David whispered.
Speak to them, Ruby, Beel said from within. It is your blood that has drawn them, they will hear you.
Ruby opened her mouth, found no words, realized she had no idea what to say to a group of ghosts.
Ask them to help you, Beel suggested.
“Hello,” Ruby said, and when she did, all eyes, every one of them, locked on her. “I … I…” The words died in her throat. I can’t do this.
You can. You must. Now, ask them for help with your spell.
“I … I need your help,” she stammered. “With a spell.”
None of them answered, just stared at her with cold, damning looks. Ruby wanted to flee the room.
Ask them again. Do it.
Ruby swallowed hard. “I need your help … please.”
Still nothing.
David reached for one of them—a short, one-eyed man with thick mutton chops, wearing a Confederate uniform. He tried to tap the man’s shoulder, but his hand slid right through, stirring the smoky form.
“I need your help,” Ruby pleaded.
She waited.
“Can anyone hear me? I need your help. Just a little help, please.”
“I need your help. I need your help. I need your help,” the one-eyed man said in a whiney mocking tone. Several of them laughed, the sound echoing about the room.
Ruby began to tremble.
Do not let them intimidate you. Now, just talk to them … like living people.
Ruby sucked in a deep breath, cleared her throat. “I’m trapped. The only way for me to escape is for you to sing a song with me.”
“We’re all trapped,” one of them spat, a bitter-faced woman with a large Afro. “Why should we help you?”
“Yeah,” another chimed in. “How dare you call us here.”
“It’s just a song. One song.”
“Here’s a song,” the one-eyed man said, and began to sing. “‘Kiss my ass, you silly lass. Doo-daa, doo-daa. Kiss my ass, you silly lass, doo-da, doo-da day.’”
More laughter, it rattled around in Ruby’s head.
“What’s wrong with you?” Ruby snapped. “Here, see this!” She held up her hand, showing them the ring. “It’s a demon ring. If I don’t get it off, some fucking demon’s gonna come for me. Gonna take my soul to Hell. I’m just asking you to sing one song with me. One goddamn song to save my soul! Is that really too much?”
The laughter faded, leaving the spirits glancing uneasily at each other.
“Here, let me see that.” A large black man, shirtless in a pair of tattered pants, pushed forward from the back of the room. He studied the ring, then leaned in close to Ruby, inhaled deeply as though smelling her. “You got a boogie in you.”
“Yeah,” Ruby said. “I sure do.”
“What’s your name, little girl?”
“Ruby.”
“I’m Clifford … and let’s just say I know a thing or two about what it is to be in bondage. I believe most of us here do.” He turned to the group. “Don’t we? What it is to be trapped, to be lost, to be damned.”
Several of them nodded.
“Miss Ruby, I’m gonna sing this song with you.” Again, he faced the crowd, this time Ruby noticed the ugly scars crisscrossing his back. “How many of you gonna join me?”
Nobody said anything at first, then the bitter-faced woman stepped forward. “Guess I will.”
The one-eyed man shrugged. “Fine, why the hell not.”
Four or five more of the spirits nodded.
“Okay, Miss Ruby. Let’s hear this song of yours.”
“Okay … okay, thank you. It’s two parts, the part I sing to you and the part you sing back. The part you sing back, it’s supposed to make a spell that gets this damn ring off.”
“Go on then, sing it.”
She nodded, sucked in a deep breath, and gave it a go. “‘Give me some magic to set me free, give me some magic to set me free, because free is what I gotta be.’” She paused, painfully aware of how weak and wilted her voice sounded. “And this, this is the part y’all are supposed to sing back. ‘We give you our magic to set you free, give you our magic to set you free, because free is what you gotta be.’”
They stared at her blankly, a few cinching up their noses as though smelling something sour.
“Whew, that’s not gonna work. Sounds like a pep rally cheer.” A young man with long curly hair came forward. He was wearing a fringy vest and beads, looking groovy. “Man, no one’s gonna wanna sing that. At least not with anything that amounts to any soul. And you need all the soul you can muster if you’re trying to make some real magic.”
The bitter-faced lady turned. “Scott? Is that you? Lord, it is. Are you kidding? You got some nerve showing your face here after what you done.”
He flinched. “Hey, you think I chose to be here? She dragged me here same as you.”
The other souls gave them cutting looks.
“Don’t y’all be giving me the stink eye,” the woman said. “I’m dead because of this turkey. He was stoned out of his gourd when he dashed in front of my car. I ran right over his ass then straight into an oak. Killed us both.”
“We all got a sad story,” Clifford said. “So, let’s not start. Okay?”
“Man, I just want to help the lady with her song,” Scott said. “Lot of folks considered me a pretty good poet when I was still kicking around.”
“Pfft,” the bitter-face lady scoffed. “You’re nothin’ but a junkie.”
“Not anymore, I’m not. Am I?”
“Yeah, well, you ain’t a poet no more neither.”
“Am too. Here, Ruby, listen. Where does magic come from?” He touched his chest. “It comes from your heart and your soul. How about something like this?” He started snapping his fingers, tapping his foot. “‘Give me some heart, give me some soul, going to burn, baby burn, unless you give me some heart and soul.’”
“It needs more groove,” the bitter-face lady said, and started humming a melody, then to sing. Ruby was shocked by how sweet and rich her voice was.
“‘Gotta gimmie all your heart and soul, gimmie all your heart and soul…” She trailed off. “Not so sure about ‘burn, baby burn’.”
Ruby spoke up. “‘Devil’s never gonna let me go, unless you give me all your heart and soul.’”
The woman smiled. “There you go, honey. Now you’re getting into it. And we sing it back to you. ‘Gonna give you all my heart and soul, give you all my heart and soul, Devil’s gonna let you go, I give you all my heart and soul.’”
