Samantha Moon Phantasm, page 91
part #9 of Vampire for Hire Series
You know us well, Sssamantha.
Well, just cool it. You and I have been at this for a while. You can’t scare me.
Not true.
I thought about that, then nodded. Indeed, letting her out did scare me. Terrified me, even. I did not want to be relegated to the shadows. I did not want to lose control of myself, and give her any control. Which brought me back to my question.
Talk to me about the plot against me.
There was a small pause before her words came to me. There is no plot against you, Moon Dance. May I call you Moon Dance?
No, I thought distractedly.
Oddly enough, I believed her. In fact, I felt the truth of her words. Generally, I thought of her as a wispy, shadowy, formless, thoughtless being. A waif, a shade. A non-human entity. I even thought of her as a demon at times. All of which made little sense; after all, I spoke often to her very own son, Archibald Maximus. I mean, I knew she was a mother. Or had been a mother.
With that said, yes, her mind was elusive to me, and my own daughter’s inability to read her only seemed to reinforce the idea that there was not much to this woman, at least, not much left. But now, as I sought her truth, as I felt more connected to her than I had in a long, long time, I also saw more of her too. She seemed to expand before me. Come to life before me. I sensed her own fear and confusion at being stifled for over a decade. Then again, I was not sorry I had done so. She really was someone to fear, and she really did want to take over my body. Not to mention, none of this was my idea.
But according to Allison, I might have very well known what I was getting into.
I caught another thought from Elizabeth. She did not want to take over my body, not any more. No, she had resigned herself to living in the shadows and only hoped for a few minutes of air time here and there. Perhaps once a month—hell, once a year. She would take anything I gave her.
The problem was, I knew if I gave her even an inch, she would take a mile. The doorway would be forever open. The Alchemist had warned me that there was no turning back once that happened. Once open, the doorway stayed open.
I sensed her wanting to object, but she couldn’t.
Then it’s true, I thought. If I ever did let you out, you would take over more and more.
She didn’t want to answer, but I already sensed the answer in her, anyway.
It is true, Sssamantha. It is the way of possession. Does the chick not want to break free from the egg? Does the sea turtle not crawl instinctively to the sea? We all want freedom.
And yet you chose bondage?
We can be so free as to choose bondage, Sssamantha.
I felt more truths within her, and thought, You did not know I would be such a hard-ass.
I would have said ‘worthy adversary’ but yes, came her response.
You thought you would control me by now.
Yes and no. I knew you were strong. I knew your bloodline was strong. I knew you were a formidable witch—
How in the hell would you know about my past lives? I barely even remember them.
And what memory I had was fleeting at best.
It is not so hard to access the Akashic Records, child. They are there for all to read, between lives.
I knew about these records, of course. The Book of Life, as it was sometimes called. A recording of all our lives, throughout all of time.
That doesn’t explain how you knew I would be born to my parents, at this time, a convergence of my witchy past... and the bloodline I would be born into in this life.
Many lives, Sssamantha. You often choose this bloodline, although not always. It is a rich and powerful and formidable bloodline, and always, it has helped sharpen and hone your witchcraft. All should be so lucky to be born from the great Hermetic bloodline.
Let’s focus here, I thought. That still does not explain how you knew I would be here, in this place, at this time.
That is not my secret to tell, she responded.
Fine, I thought. Tell me about the plot against me.
There is no plot, Sssamantha.
It makes sense for there to be one. I’m not exactly going with the program. You guys are no closer to opening the veil than you were before—
Not true, Sssamantha. As they say, where there is a will, there is a way. True, you were and are our best option. And, yes, your daughter was and is a viable option, too. So, too, is your sssister, both of whom have been witches in past lives, too, although not quite as powerful. But we are looking into other options, you could say. I have no desire to leave you just yet. Although my imprisoned existence is not enviable, you have proven to be entertaining.
Gee, thanks.
Hearing about my daughter’s and Mary Lou’s pasts was news to me, although it made sense. After all, why would I be the only witch in the family?
One thing was clear: the devil had lied to my daughter and tricked her into making a deal with him. How binding that was, I didn’t know.
It is only as binding as she allows it, Sssamantha. The devil has no real power over anyone.
Unless he possesses them.
Yesss.
A thought occurred to me: Do you know how to stop the devil?
There are rumors...
What rumors?
There is one who knows more than me.
Who?
My son.
Chapter Six
Allison was still on babysitting duty.
In fact, per my request, she had taken my kids to go see the latest Marvel movie about some giant bug man. Or was it a mountain lion man? Either way, it gave me some time to work with—and peace of mind, too, knowing they were with Allison, who was proving to be a helluva babysitter. Whether she wanted to or not.
The devil claimed that the dark masters had targeted me, and I decided to ask the dark masters themselves. No, not Danny, who would have been considered a peon. The truth was, he wouldn’t know anything, especially considering he never left Anthony’s side... or his mind. Doing so would, of course, expose him to the devil. No, I knew of one dark master who was very, very high up in the chain of command. A dark master who had positioned herself nicely for a future takeover of the world itself. That is, if I ever gave her the time of day to do so, which I didn’t. But to speak to Elizabeth meant letting her out, and letting her out meant potential trouble for me. After all, what if she came all the way out?
I shuddered just thinking about it.
No, I had another source, which was why I was now on the elevator up to the third floor of the Cal State Fullerton Library, which just might have been the biggest library I’d ever seen; then again, I was pretty sure this was the only university library I’d seen. Hell, maybe they were all this big.
The door dinged and I stepped out into a world of books, rows and rows of books. Long rows, too, with high shelves that needed ladders. Here and there, students with earbuds were studying. How earbuds helped studying, I hadn’t a clue. I seriously suspected that kids’ brains these days were wired differently than my generation. As in, maybe they were born with an auxiliary input just behind their ears.
Officially, the library’s Occult Reading Room didn’t exist; that is, unless you happened to have a reason for finding it. I suspected it was the Alchemist himself who determined who had reason enough to find it.
At the far end of the main aisle, I came upon one hell of a long-ass wall. There were no doors along this wall, or windows. Nor were there any desks. I wondered if Maximus had somehow had a hand in that. Indeed, it wouldn’t do to have a row of students studying here while alchemists, occult researchers, wizards, witches, and one spunky vampire disappeared through a secret door.
Anyway, I hung a left and headed down the empty corridor, a long row of books to my left. I wondered which row of books paralleled the Occult Reading Room, and saw that they appeared to be anthropological studies of mostly long-lost cultures and tribes. Books about customs and war and even a whole row about hallucinogenic drugs. I looked closer at a few titles. Shamans and Dream Gates was the title of one. The Hallucinogenic Path into Other Worlds - The Shaman’s Role was another. There were more, and each more seductive than the last. Truth be known, most seemed like they belonged in the Occult Reading Room, but, upon closer inspection, they were all written by real field anthropologists, scholars and professors. Most were focused more on the culture, and less on the dream worlds themselves.
Still, it got me thinking about other worlds. I knew the dark masters had been banished to their own parallel world, called the Void. A bleak world, I suspected. After all, why were they so desperate to return to Earth? Well, I knew the answer to some of that. According to Elizabeth, Earth was to be their launching point to conquer the empty spaces of the universe, those vast unknown places that even God had yet to explore, to claim them for their own. I knew Talos lived in his own world, one that was fully realized and beautiful. And just the other day, I had stepped foot into such a world. Hell, I’d even battled a dragon.
Other worlds. Yes, the words tugged at me, but I let them go for now.
Further down, the nondescript door appeared magically next to me. Unfortunately, a student also appeared at the far end of the hall, hefting a backpack that would undoubtedly give him back problems later in life. I paused in front of some books and projected my inner radar out as far as it would go. A moment later, and there he was in my mind, glancing at books, and when he stood on his tiptoes, scanning a row of books on the shelf above him, I moved swiftly, opening the secret door and slipping inside.
I had just barely closed the door behind me when I heard sneakers running and squeaking from down the hall. The same kid with the backpack appeared very near the door, scanning and searching, his face white. Oops, on second thought, I might not have slipped away as fast as I thought. No doubt the little nerd had turned and caught sight of a foot or buttocks disappearing through the wall.
Now, as he scanned the wall, I watched him through a window that only I could see. He wore broken glasses and a Wonder Woman T-shirt. I might just be looking at the King Nerd. He rapped on the wall, knocking and listening. Now, he put both hands on the wall and pushed. A little, geeky vein popped out on his forehead. I watched all of this with some amusement, and let him believe, even for just a few seconds longer, that magic was real, which it was. But before he could post a video to whatever nerdy channel he ran, I gave him a suggestion to let it all go, that he had seen nothing, that he, in fact, could not remember why he was looking at this wall. That he, in fact, had to go to the bathroom, and badly. The sense of wonder left his face, to be replaced by a pinched look. He did a little dance, crossed his legs, then took off running.
I felt sorry for him, truthfully. He had seen what he had thought was something extraordinary—and he had. Something out of this world. Something magical and not understood. I pondered for a beat or two, then called him back, with a suggestion that he’d heard someone call his name. And now, there he was, frowning and looking around, and still crossing his legs.
I decided I couldn’t destroy someone’s sense of wonder, and so I dug into my pocket and found what I was looking for. When he was looking away, I cracked open the door open and flipped a penny into the air. The door was closed well before it landed, and I watched him leap back in surprise when it landed with a metallic clang, the sound amplified in the dead-quiet library. Oops, he might have peed himself. Anyway, he reached down and picked up the coin, examined it, looked around, and assumed it had been tossed from the other side of the bookcase. He pushed aside some books, only to discover the bookcases here were solid, and then he took off running, no doubt to look for whoever had tossed the penny... and for a bathroom.
“Very well done, Samantha Moon,” said a voice from behind me, a voice I knew well.
“I’m not sure why I did it.”
“Because you understand that what makes this world interesting—perhaps even fun—is the unknown. You have renewed that primitive part of him that believes in things that go bump in the night.”
“But is that so important?”
“The seeking of answers is important, even if the answers themselves are far less interesting. Once science proves or disproves Bigfoot, most of the fun in wondering will be lost. But it is the search that is fun. That, Sam, is the secret to life.”
“So is Bigfoot real?”
“Of course. He has long since reveled in his role as the wild man, the very embodiment of that which humans seek to be; that is, completely free.”
“He wasn’t real before?”
“Oh, no. He has been summoned into existence from sheer belief. But let me tell you, he is happy to be here. The wild man loves his role, and basks in it, as you might expect.”
We moved to his help desk, which I always thought was kind of cute, especially since I had never seen him help anyone other than me. But there it was, complete with a plaque that read Help Desk, similar to other such plaques in this library.
I said, “Well, I’m here about another creature summoned into existence.”
“The devil,” he said.
“Gee,” I said. “It’s almost as if you’ve read my mind.”
***
“I see that the entity you assume to be God told you that the devil is only as powerful as you allow. I believe this to be true, too. Ah, and the one and only Dracula warned you about making deals with the devil. Correction, it was Cornelius—the entity within Dracula.”
“That guy’s a real peach,” I said.
“He was, perhaps, our greatest adversary. At the time, I was too young and too new at the alchemy game to have taken him down. Indeed, Cornelius alone, along with my mother, killed dozens, if not hundreds, of Light Warriors.”
“They belong together,” I said. “Except they will never be together. Not under my watch.”
“Nor mine, Sam. Speaking of which, I see my mother has suggested that a deal with the devil is only as binding as one allows. She speaks the truth. The problem with her statement is that the devil, once inside you, can convince you to allow it. The devil, in essence, can override one’s defenses.”
“You’re not helping me feel better,” I said.
“No, I imagine not. Then again, you are not here to feel better, are you, Sam?”
“No,” I said. “I’m here to figure out how to stop the bastard.”
“And by stop, do you mean kill?”
“If that’s what I have to do,” I said. “Then again, who am I?”
“Who are you indeed, Sam?”
I was about to ask what the hell that meant, when he went on. “The devil and I have crossed paths many times, believe it or not. You see, he sought out the realm from which the dark masters had been banished, and thought I might give him what he needed. He tempted me as well, and tried to lure me into a particularly clever trap. It was only with the help of other Light Warriors that I was able to untangle myself from his carefully laid plans. He is not happy about it. I do not care if he is happy or not, quite frankly.”
I waited, knowing the five-hundred-year-old alchemist, who just so happened to look like your everyday college student, was going somewhere with this.
“I am, Sam. The devil is indeed alive today because of expectation, because of belief, and because of fear. It was a perfect mix to bring him forth from the ether. But belief has reached a tipping point.”
“Tipping point?” I asked. “As in, belief in his existence is slipping?”
The Alchemist nodded. “And rapidly, too. The tide is turning. There are whole generations who do not believe in him or hell or even the afterlife. He feels it, and, I believe, it is weakening him. Indeed, I feel he has made a concerted effort to increase his wicked ways, to wreak even more mayhem and destruction. To remind the world that the devil is alive and well and to be feared.”
“Because belief and fear—”
“Keep him strong. Keep him relevant. Keep him alive.”
“Not to sound narcissistic as hell, but where do I fit into all of this?”
“I’m not sure yet. But I see you there, in the mix.” He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again.
“See me how, exactly?” I asked.
“I’ve been having my own dreams, Sam. Prophetic dreams.”
“Go on,” I said.
“In them, you are connected to the devil’s demise. At least, in one version.”
“And in the other?”
“You, and everything you love, has been wiped off the face of the Earth.”
“Jesus.”
“Sadly, He is not in my dreams.”
I digested this, then asked, “And how accurate are your prophetic dreams?”
“They nearly always come to pass.”
“But they’re a little vague,” I said. “Either I die... or the devil dies.”
“True. But the key point here is that you and the devil will cross paths, and you will do so in a grand way.”
“Whatever it takes,” I said, “for him to leave my kids alone.”
“Admirable, Sam. But let me ask you this: if he knows that your kids are your trigger point, why, then, has he come after them?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He needs them?”
“The devil doesn’t need your kids, Sam. He has done fine for millenniums without them.”
“I...I don’t know,” I said.
“Think, my friend.”
I shrugged. “To cause a reaction in me?”
He studied me. “Are you aware that the devil is bound by certain universal laws?”
“Sorta.”
“One of which states that he cannot strike a human first. He needs to either be invited in, or act in self-defense.”
“And who upholds these laws?”
“The ways of the devil, his role in the universe, the laws that govern him, if any, are mostly unknown. Evidence suggests that he shows restraint for reasons I do not understand... but which point to an agreement with higher beings.”
“Fine,” I said. “So what are you getting at? The devil is coaxing me into a fight?”
