Advice To Self

Tama na, Bern. Masyado ka nang nasaktan. Pahinga ka na.

Verbum Chapter Five: The Angel Called James

Being mortal has its drawbacks. Like the pain of smashing against a table and having a vase fall on your head. Good thing they were plastic flowers since getting wet as well would have been pushing it. James was probably knocked out cold for a few minutes. When he came to, he saw a man standing at the door of the apartment unit and looking around, searching for something. He froze, but the man did not seem to see him. He remembered he cast a Veil on himself when the demon attacked them but he was knocked out before it took full effect.

The demon! He started to panic when he saw the dead bodies lying outside in the hallway. Everything was quiet except for two men who was talking and crying. He couldn’t catch what they were saying since his mind was elsewhere. The demon must just be nearby. He could not let it escape and go back empty-handed. He closed his eyes and concentrated, opening his mind to his surroundings. Some mages call this technique “The Radar”, using your mind to ‘look’ around you. For others, it involves sensory deprivation to achieve an altered state of consciousness. For James, he slipped easily in and out of different levels. Of course, he could, given what he was before.

“Show me!” He uttered the command. In his mind was shown something like a virtual map of the surrounding area. He saw clearly the two talking men and the dead bodies outside. Further on, he saw the riot of buildings in Manila. In the distance, he saw the demon, bounding from rooftop to rooftop.

He got up quietly so the two men wouldn’t hear his movements. He tiptoed towards the door and stopped in his tracks. He was transfixed by the sight of the bigger of the two men. He was kneeling on the floor, crying bitterly.

“Jesse, what do we do now?” the smaller guy said.

So his name is Jesse. He could feel his pain pulsating out of him. But there is warmth, like that of the morning sun on a slightly overcast day. It pierces through the sadness wrapped around his being. He felt a weird feeling inside him, like icicles slowly melting. He waved his hand gently and let out a small wave of strength towards Jesse, enough to get him going through this ordeal. And then he clenched his fist and looked out. He couldn’t let himself be overwhelmed by this feeling right now. He’s got a mission to accomplish, a charge to complete. He can still feel the essence of the demon nearby. He can still make it.

With silent footsteps, he walked towards the smashed window and climbed out to the ledge. It’s quite a drop from this level but he saw the fire exit stairs and edged his way there. Before climbing down, he summoned the Hawks of Horus to go ahead of him and capture the demon. He made some complex finger movements and uttered the Greek words.

"Synechisei to drasti!"

Bright hawk-shaped beings erupted from nowhere and flew to the direction of the demon. He locked them in his sight as he climbed down the stairs.

At ground level, he started to run. The hawks flew at an incredible speed in pursuit of their target and then, as one, they dived. He heard the unearthly growling of the demon as the light-birds clawed it with their sharp talons. He turned on one corner and found the demon itself struggling in an alley.

“You’re not getting away this time,” he said. The hawk-shaped beings disappeared. The demon growled at James and spoke.

“Fool! Don’t think I do not see through what you are. But you are weak. You cannot vanquish me!” It spoke as if four different voices were speaking in unison. The sound grated in the ears.

“That does not mean I cannot try,” said James in a defiant reply. But what the demon said was true. Years in this mortal coil stripped him slowly of his powers. He had to learn the magic of the humans to supplement with what little remaining he has. It was a good thing he picked a few up from way back before his enslavement.

The demon suddenly lunged at him with its claws. Good reflexes saved James as he jumped back, throwing out a Golgotha Spell which nailed the demon to the ground. The demon howled in pain as it pulled out each wedge from its body. James did a quick follow up and uttered a command.

“Pagida!”

A bright net of white light fell over the demon but before it closed down, the demon breathed fire onto it and burned it away into nothing. James was stunned. This demon indeed is quite powerful, even the Philistine Net was useless. The demon then threw a huge fireball towards James and in the nick of time he was able to erect a Shield. He managed not to get burned by hellfire. However, he was still thrown back by the sheer intensity of the force.

“Fool of an angel you are!” The demon said and laughed. It bounded past him and ran away into the night.

***

“He failed,” Dan announced to the almost empty hall.

The man on the throne stood up, unfurled his robe and went down the dais. He approached a huge circle inscribed on the marble floor before the wooden throne. He whispered a few words in Hebrew and produced from his hand a burning sigil.

James materialized in the middle of the circle, lying supinely and coughing. He smelled of burnt sulfur and his hair was slightly singed.

“You’ve failed,” the man in robes looked down on him. “Your instructions were very specific and relatively simple, even an apprentice could have accomplished that in less time than you took.”

James tried to get up on his feet. “It was a high level revenge demon. My measly powers were no match for it.” He was gasping for breath. “Give me my sigil back and I swear I shall help you, Leon.”

The man he called Leon curled his lip in a wry smile. He walked around the circle and regarded James.

“You’re at it again, angel. Stop making flimsy excuses and do what you were told to do.” He walked back to the throne and sat on it.

“Three of my companions died, Leon. Four of us could not have faced it. We need more strength.” James said almost pleadingly.

Leon looked at him with a steely stare. “I have included you and treated you as a member of this ancient venerable order of magicians whose sole reason for existing is to preserve whatever sliver of order those before us wrestled from the clutches of a chaotic universe. You were never treated as a lowly servant spirit but as an equal among us. Yet, one simple mission and you fail miserably and it is by sheer luck and my mercy that you are still standing, groveling here before me. I do not care who dies or incinerates, as long as you accomplished what you all were tasked to do.”

James had no response to that but bowed down his head and clenched his fists.

“Forgive me. I shall recuperate and try once more,” he said.

“Of course you will,” Leon responded condescendingly. He waved him away and directed him to Dan. “Go with Daniel and see what you must do to prepare for this. You may leave the circle.”

James walked out of the hall, glancing once at Dan as he did. He was once a powerful angel until an oppressive requirement in The Mysterium trapped him to serve Leon Garces, 538^th Grand Mage and current leader of the Order. He wants to break free, to reclaim what he once was, and restore his former glory. But how does he ransom his sigil back? Leon is the god of this universe and everything else revolves around him and serves his every wish and desire.

He has to find a way. He vowed to himself that he will find a way.

to be continued

Verbum Chapter Four: Love, Lust, Lies

Jesse sat unmoving on his bed. His mobile phone, the one he forgot to put on airplane mode, had dropped to the floor just a few seconds ago and bounced somewhere out of sight. He was staring straight into nothingness.

How long has he been out? Just around eleven hours? And the day keeps getting worse. The reminder of his break up, the MIDI song playing on his head again, the failure of the Sleep Sigil and that bad dream, now this. Somehow it’s all very difficult to digest. His best buddy could not be dead. Maybe George was just pulling a prank on him. Maybe they were just trying to get him out of the house. He’s been holed up here for weeks after all. Maybe they were planning a surprise party for him. They did it before on his birthday. He wouldn’t put it past Marcus to come up with crazy stuff like that.

But something did not fit. George and Marcus already broke up a few months ago and it was absolutely messy. The social media was abuzz and dirty laundry flew everywhere from both parties. And in just a snap, everyone hushed and the dust settled. It has been like that for months and this was the first time he has heard from George since then.

No, it’s not a surprise party.

Jesse closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needs to see what happened. He needs to know for certain what this whole thing is about. He wants to see, if true, the lifeless body of Marcus.

He stood up from the bed and put on a pair of jeans and his jacket over the shirt he was wearing. He then scooped up his car keys and wallet and went out of the house. It was just around nine in the evening; people are still out and about. The day was just winding down. He looked at the people walking on his street and wondered if any of them were like him and the others. He felt pang of envy for the people who did not have the same abilities and skills that he does. The ‘normal’ people, some might say, blissfully unaware of the other society that exists alongside theirs, unknowing of the blessings and dangers that were just at their grasps. Yet he is a part of their society as much as they are in his. The only difference is their level of awareness. They all die in the end, anyway.

He shook himself out of these thoughts and got into his car, backing slowly out of the driveway. He then steered the car to the left and sped away.

***

George walked over and squatted by the pile of dust that was once his ex-boyfriend, Marcus. He scooped a handful and let it run through his fingers, pouring it on Marcus’ dried up skull.

“Look at you,” George said with a condescending smile. “Not so potent now, huh? You know, I just realized that earthy gray actually looks good on you. Too bad, you’re dead.” He let out a villainous laugh, but he was cut short when he heard some scuffling coming from the opened apartment unit owned by the girl who fell down the building. He stood up and looked in, brushing aside the yellow police lines. The place looked normal and everything was in place, save for the smashed table directly facing the door. Did the girl try to fight the demon or something when it attacked her? He realized he didn’t really care. He didn’t even know who she was and it was just the bitch’s tough luck that she ended up a couple of floors down with a smashed skull. He did another take of the unit just to make sure no one was really there before he went out. He let out a startled gasp when he saw Jesse standing at the landing of the stairs.

“What in the world happened here?” Jesse asked slowly, wide-eyed in disbelief.

“Oh my God, Jesse! You’re here! Oh my God!” George shrieked as he ran towards Jesse and hugged him tightly, sobbing on his chest. “He’s dead! Marcus is dead! Oh God!”

Jesse pushed the sobbing George gently away and went to each of the bodies. The Chinese-looking one had a rough hole on his chest as if it was blown away by a shotgun fire. Some ribs were even protruding and bits of flesh were dangling from them, dripping blood, which has begun to make a viscous pool on the floor. Another body that lay near the door had three deep claw marks from his torso up to his face, spilling his insides like a badly mutilated human anatomy doll. There was a circle of candles and in the middle of this were charred remains of something that was once human. It was evident in the dislodged arm that still showed some blackened fingers.

Still further, he saw a pile of dust with the remains of a skull, dried up as if it was a corpse long buried and then exhumed. He realized he was looking at the effects of the Sigil of Decay. His heart skipped a bit.

“Who did this? Who did all this?” Jesse asked in a low whisper.

“I don’t know, Jesse,” answered George between sobs. “When I got here, I just saw… I just saw all this.”

Jesse turned to George and grabbed his shoulders. “That can’t be Marcus. How can it be Marcus? How are you even damn sure?”

George, still crying held up his hand. “I found this by the skeleton over there. It was the ring I gave him on our third year as a gift. I had my name engraved on the inside.”

Jesse looked at the ring and let go of George. He turned back to the skeleton and fell to his knees. He buried his face in his hands and his shoulders shook as he soundlessly cried. His worst fears earlier were confirmed. This was not a prank. This was not a party. Marcus has been attacked by one of the most powerful death spells in existence. The man whom he considered his closest friend, almost his brother, who knew almost everything about him, has been killed.

George walked over to where Jesse was and knelt beside him. He put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder to comfort him. Jesse looked up and turned to him.

“Why are you even here? How did you know about this?”

George averted Jesse’s eyes and looked at the rotten pile. “I was just passing by the area and saw Marcus’ car parked outside. I haven’t heard from him for months, Jesse, and I figured maybe he was inside the car and thought to spring a little surprise on him. You know, try to be friends despite everything that happened. But he wasn’t there and then I heard some glass shattering from up here,” he pointed towards the broken window in the hallway. “So I went up to see what happened. I was scared, actually, everything was quiet. When I got here, I saw all this. I saw the ring and broke down. That’s when I called you.” He looked at Marcus. “I thought you should know.”

“Marcus called me this morning,” Jesse said, holding back his tears. “He said he wanted to talk to me. He said there was something that might interest me. I shouldn’t have dissed him like that,” he punched the floor so hard it vibrated on the walls. “I should have listened.”

George put his arms around Jesse and let him cry. He could feel the firmness of his deltoids and triceps, the warmth radiating off his body, the perfectly manly girth of his shoulders. Now he could understand why the jerk Marcus was so enamored with him. Jesse gave off an effortless charm, like it was some irresistible enchantment cast upon the unwary. If he hadn’t known better, he would have bedded this man ages ago, except that vengeance is the only thing he wanted now from Marcus and his circles. Whatever charms Jesse has will just burn in his hatred. Now that he thought about it, maybe he could still take that road. An idea started to form in his mind. He decided to go on with his charade.

“Jesse, what do we do now?” he asked Jesse.

Jesse felt a little surge of power in him. He straightened up, wiped his tears with the back of his hand, and took a deep breath. He stood up and looked at Marcus’ corpse.

“Here’s what we should do.”

***

Ever since he was a child, Dan has never felt quite the same as the other children. He knew all about dreams, and how everybody gets those sometimes when they sleep. They would even swap stories about them the following morning. But among his friends, Dan was the only one who had ‘other’ dreams. The sort of ‘dreams’ that he gets even when he knows for certain that he’s awake. Sometimes it happens when he’s half asleep, teetering on the edge of wakefulness. One time, he ‘dreamed’ of how his pet Alsatian will die while he was having lunch. He ran out screaming and crying, thinking his dog was already road kill. His bawling startled his Alsatian and it ran out of their gate and was run over by a passing car.

Dan told this to his mother, who assured him that he was just imagining things. He thought he was going crazy and will be locked up in a padded cell in an asylum, bound in a straitjacket like what he sees in the movies. But he knew he was not, except that his young mind could not be wrapped around the idea of the perception of reality and its nuances. He grew up harboring and suppressing this, until one day his uncle approached him and told him he knew of his ‘gift’. He brought him to a man whom he said could help him deal with his predicament in a productive way.

It was Levi Alcantara, the 537^th Grand Mage and then leader of The Mysterium.

Then he learned about his precognition and how to harness this ability. He was trained in the Order and learned much about himself and how the world and the Universe itself functioned by using his mind’s eye. He became the most powerfully accurate precognizant in The Mysterium, and his visions are on point down to the last detail. He could see both past, present, and future events with relative ease and rose up the ranks for becoming a very valuable asset to the ancient order.

Right now, both of Dan’s hands was submerged in a silver basin full of water. His eyes, all white, were looking straight ahead but on a totally different plane. He was looking at what just happened to the small group they sent to capture the rogue demon down in Manila. The water in the basin quivered and rippled.

“They’re all dead.” He announced with finality. His voice echoed in the impressive Hall of the Masters of the Temple. It was a long colonnaded nave, much like a Gothic cathedral. Portraits of past Grand Mages hung along the sides of the center aisle. At the end of this aisle stood an intricately carved wooden throne. Images of demons, angels, gods, and humans in battle adorned the high seat where a robed man sat shrouded in shadows. He stirred when he heard what Dan proclaimed.

“Just as I thought,” the man said.

“Wait,” Dan hurriedly said. “There is one more. He’s got faint silvery wings but they’re tied to his back. Its… it’s James. He’s going after the demon!”

“Of course,” said the man on the throne without much surprise. “Keep monitoring events.”

The man on the throne slunk back into the shadows even the glint of the ring on his finger could not illuminate.

***

Jesse wrapped his knuckles thickly with a piece of clothing ripped from one of the dead men upstairs. With it he smashed the driver’s side window of Marcus’ car and unlocked the door. Normally that is not possible, but things like this never bothered Jesse. Even without magic, he’s got the full physical force of a battering ram. He got in, five gallons of gasoline in tow, which he got from a nearby station.

“Are you sure about this, Jesse? What if you hurt yourself?” George stood beside the car, holding a bundle of cloth.

“I am sure, George. Just make sure to keep that intact,” he indicated the bundle he was holding. “We will need to burn that into fine powder. Get an urn somewhere.” He started the car and released the hand brake. “Prepare for a buffet. We will feed his family lies.”

He drove off, leaving George standing on the curb. “Poor sucker,” he said. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you a pretty little jar.” He walked off laughing.

Jesse gripped the wheel tightly and stepped on the gas. He was aiming for EDSA since at this hour of night, the trucks were already allowed there. From Taft Avenue, he will have to go around and make a U-turn near the Mall of Asia. Fuck that, he thought. He stepped harder on the gas and hit the MMDA fence and made a sharp left, tires screeching, the car’s windshield was smashed. He’s on a hunt. And he found what he was looking for. His expression was grim as he calculated his moves as compared to the rising dial of the car’s speedometer.

He opened the lid of the gasoline beside him and let it spill all over the floor. Any moment now, he thought. He gunned down the highway, heading towards the tail end of a ten-wheeler truck. As the truck drew nearer, he opened the door and jumped out, rolling on the pavement as he did.

The car smashed against the truck, metal screeching upon metal. The friction sent out sparks and ignited the gasoline and the car went up in flames within seconds. The driver of the truck did all he could to control the wheel as he skidded wildly from the impact.

Jesse stood up, he scratched his arm from his jump but it was just superficial. He cast a Veil on himself and watched as cars tried to avoid the burning wreck. He walked to a dark corner in the sidewalk and removed the Veil as he joined the other bystanders who happened to be there.

“And thus passes Marcus, my dearest friend,” he said to himself and walked away.

to be continued

Verbum Chapter Three: Curse Me Like One Of Your French Whores

“Surprise, surprise!”

George spread his arms wide and walked over to where Marcus was kneeling. Marcus was still too shaken too move even an inch of muscle since the demon was thrown out of the window. What ensued was a silence penetrated only by the sound of their shuffling and the occasional crackle of Rosie’s remains burnt to a crisp.

“Didn’t expect me, did you?” George said as he pulled out a cigarette from his jeans pocket and lighted it.

Marcus swayed his head to look at George in the face. His face was still spattered with Alvin’s blood, which has begun to dry.

“What… the fuck… are you doing here?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Sorry? Can’t hear you.” George took a puff from his cigarette and squatted down in front of Marcus. “You gotta speak up, you know.” He breathed the smoke out on Marcus’ face.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing here?” Marcus screamed as he suddenly regained his strength and tried to claw out George’s face. George jumped back and gave a throaty laugh.

“Whoa! Easy there, tiger. Well, to be honest, I missed you.” He gave a wan smile. “After we separated, I haven’t heard anything from you,” said George. He took another puff from his cigarette. “Not a text, a tweet, a Facebook message, or even a goddamn email. And here I see you, inches away from having your head chomped off by a ratchet-ass demon. Honey,” he tilted his head to one side. “What are you doing with your life?”

Marcus tried to stand up, shakily doing so. He tried to lean onto the wall nearest him for support. “How did you do that?” he asked. “How did you even know that?”

“Know what?” George asked in reply. “Oh, you mean that nice little magic thingy? I found it from a source with unbelievably copious amounts of information, even those that may have been buried in the past. It’s called the Internet.” He gave Marcus a sullen look.

George crushed the cigarette under the toe of his boot and walked over to where Marcus was standing. He lifted Marcus’ chin with a finger and looked him in the eye.

“I’ve picked up a trick or two from you, darling,” he said with a sweet smile. “Now, to answer your question. What exactly am I doing here?” he walked and leaned over the opposite wall and lighted another cigarette. All his movements were those of a man who has everything under control. Very far from the naïve, clueless guy Marcus knew and left just a couple of months ago. This is a different George. This is a man with a plan.

He tried to use his ability to try to read into George’s mind but when he peered in, everything was just cloudier. Tangled swirls of dark gold and grey smoke were all he can see in his vision.

“I’m here to end things between us. Some form of final closure so we can both move on,” said George.

“I don’t think there’s anything that we need to talk about,” Marcus said defiantly.

“Oh, I think there is. A lot, actually.” George gave Marcus a knowing look. “And don’t worry, this Veil of Silence your pretty friend cast still stands. Teneo!”

George waved his hand in a quick motion. Suddenly, Marcus felt his feet getting heavy, as if being held by strong invisible hands. He tried to break free and thought of a counter-spell for it.

“Taces!” George fired another spell at Marcus. This time, he felt his tongue stiffening from the base to the tip.

“No talkies, babe. You will listen. You’re my bitch now,” George said with a sly grin.

***

It was like a montage of random scenes, like most dreams go. And like most dreams, it started in the middle of things. No chance to give you a back story or a reference. Jesse was standing in his kitchen, holding a glass of water. The blackness from the window indicated that it was nighttime. Next thing he knew, he was in his car, driving down EDSA, or at least what seems like it. He sees a magnified version of a container van. No, the car is hurtling towards it at full speed. He looks at the seat beside him and everything turned black.

Next thing he knew, he was walking down a busy street in Makati when he heard three shots being fired and everybody started running in random directions. He was bumped by at least about three people, the last one was a man who crossed his legs with his and made him stumble to the pavement. He was falling face-down as he put his hands to his face to break his fall.

That was when he woke up, panting and gasping for air. That was messed up. Because the sigil he cast was supposed to give him a dreamless sleep.

***

“I know you were the one who tried to kill Jesse’s boyfriend. I know you've been secretly in love with your 'best friend',” George pointed his cigarette on Marcus’ face. “I saw you do that freak ritual in our basement last year. That was some shit, I’m telling you! All those light shows and that demon, just wow!”

Marcus struggled to wriggle his tongue to speak but it was as stiff as a stone. He wanted to explain that he had a higher motive in doing that. But all he could manage was a weak throaty groan.

“I got there in time, though. Countermanded the demon, overriding your charge,” George continued as he walked behind Marcus, tracing a finger on his shoulder. “Wasn’t really sure I could do it. You’re much more of a bastard than I am,” he whispered to his right ear.

“But I did,” he said aloud. “Just a little tweak in the words, really, and poof! Demon’s mine!” he let out a derisive laugh. “But not fully, though. That was the first time I did your shit and apparently I didn’t fully gain control, only enough to change the intended target. Let’s just say, he was collateral damage.”

Fuck, thought Marcus. So that’s what happened. And all along he thought that he misworded his charge, or miswrote a character in the circle. He had to give it to George though. No beginner can pull off something as complex as that in such a short time. It takes practice. He wondered what else George can do now that he has obviously learned a lot more.

“Quite surprising, huh? There’s another thing you need to know, and this is something a little more personal,” he looked straight into Marcus’ eyes. “I blinded you.”

Marcus’s eyes widened in disbelief; everything became clear to him now. For months, he hasn’t got a proper vision at his command. The swirling clouds have been a regular second sight and he had to crawl his way through things. Admittedly, he became dependent on his ability to see things beforehand. He had to look ahead to see the outcome before making any decisions in almost everything he did.

“You know why?” George continued. “Because you’re one big fuckin’ asshole, that’s why!” he screamed and slapped Marcus hard. Marcus nearly fell over from the force of it and his face stung.

“You fucked as much men as nearly the entire population of San Juan behind my back! And I am that stupid innocent schmuck believing every little lie that you said! I wanted you to suffer horribly for all the shit you did to me!” George was very hysterical now but he started to compose himself. He breathed deep and let out a sigh and smiled.

“You haven’t been living the life you should be living,” he caressed Marcus’ face where he slapped him. Marcus winced. “You were too dependent on these psychic divination shits that you have, letting Fate dictate your life, throwing free will out of the window. Really, I think I did more of a favor for you, darling.”

George held Marcus’ head in both his hands and moved his face closer to his. “But since you’re special to me, I’m gonna give you your precious powers back. You want that, don’t you? Huh?”

His palms glowed in a green light as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Marcus closed his eyes as well and felt the surge of power coursing through his head. He was starting to see clearly now albeit blurred. He still couldn’t penetrate George’s mind.

George took a step back and regarded Marcus, sarcasm dripping from his smile. “Look at you, all back to your normal shitty self.”

Marcus tried to move his tongue. He cleared his throat and tried to speak. George put a finger to his lips and hushed him.

“Now, let’s go and end this crap.” He moved his lips closer to Marcus’ and whispered in a sultry voice. “Curse me like one of your French whores.”

“You bastard!” Marcus growled. His fingers moved in a quick succession and drew a complex sigil in the air. “Subitosenium!”

At that same moment, George put up both of his hands in front of him, his palms facing Marcus, and intoned: “Speculum!”

The Sigil of Swift Decay that shot out from Marcus bounced back from George’s glowing palms and hit him forcefully. He was thrown backwards along the hallway and he felt his insides churning painfully. He squirmed spasmodically and let out a long scream as he quickly turned into dust from the inside out, until all that’s left was an echo fading down the hall and was absorbed into the Veil of Silence.

George stood riveted with every second of Marcus’ demise from his own Swift Decay curse. It was too quick, too fast. He wanted him to suffer. He wanted him to feel all the emotional pain he felt in a physical manner. But then, this death is good enough for him. The city’s biggest harlot in disguise has been brought to justice at last.

He took out his phone and dialed.

“Jesse! It’s George,” he choked his voice to sound like he’s been sobbing. “Marcus… he’s dead. I don’t know what happened, but it’s all messed up! You gotta come over quick!”

He clicked the phone to end the call and smiled.

to be continued

Verbum Chapter Two: Secrets Kept

15 November 2013

Marcus checked the nine-foot circle for the seventh time. He more than doubly made sure that he got all the symbols right. One wrong stroke, one tiny mistake, could mean his demise. And he had no intentions of being the victim. That one was lying in the middle of the circle, atop a ceramic pentagram: an image of the intended target, wrapped in the Ropes of Kronos.

“Expugnare eum,” he hissed through gritted teeth. The ropes slithered on their own accord and tightened around the effigy. The vision he saw a week before prompted him to do this dark ritual. He saw Jesse standing by a huge pyre, holding books in his hand. He threw these and as they were burning, he looked at the other side and saw two dark figures. He didn’t recognize any of their faces but he had a feeling they were laughing. He looked back at Jesse and saw him drop to the ground, body shaking as he sobbed hysterically. Then the vision was gone. He tried to divine what that was and was given betrayal, loss, and a huge change in mindset as answers. He’s trying to prevent that from happening.

Marcus now walked over to a brass pedestal with a large tome lying open on top of it. A dagger with a silver blade and a golden hilt embellished with a ram’s head served as a paperweight on the page. He picked this up and pointed on the empty air east of the circle he was in. He cleared his throat quietly and intoned the words written on the page in an authoritative voice.

“I conjure ye to come unto me promptly and without any delay…”

There was a stir in the air. The candles flickered. Marcus felt a tingle run from the tip of the blade up to his arm and down through his spine. He shrugged it off and continued.

“Adonai, Tzabaoth, El, Elohi, Elohim, Shaddai…”

He heard a low rumbling and the pedestal clattered on the uneven floor. Orbs of light sparked on and off on the eastern arc of the circle where the Triangle of the Art was inscribed.  The tingle he felt became more like little electrical pinpricks on his skin. He grasped the hilt of the dagger even more tightly and went on with the conjuration.

“Invoco nunc Persaeus!” he shouted over the building din.

In that moment, a strong gale blew around the enclosed room, completely extinguishing the candles. But there wasn’t darkness. A shaft of light shot up from the middle of the Triangle on the floor to the ceiling, illuminating the entire room. Inside the bright column a figure formed, emitting low beastly growls. Marcus steeled himself. Persaeus isn’t just about any god. It’s a Titan from the old days. Normally, summoning a god of destruction is no mean feat and required tremendous amounts of energy, but belief in this one has dwindled over millennia and their power rests on belief. He was confident that he can make it do his bidding, as blasphemous as that sounds. It’s still essentially a spirit.

With the silver dagger, he drew the Sigillum Imperium in the air. It whirled around the now-materializing god and wound around its neck, asserting his power.

“Listen to my words!”

The god-spirit, fully-formed and hovering in midair, stood still and locked eyes with him. Marcus stared fiercely back. Regardless that it was a lesser god, he could still feel the power pulsing in waves from the entity. It rippled against his cheek and surrounded him. It was by sheer force of will that he managed not to vaporize right then and there.

He picked up the effigy and showed it to Persaeus. It looked at it and emitted a low vibrating growl. How has this entity been reduced to a monstrous beast, he couldn’t fathom. Days of being ‘underfed’ for a human can make one delirious. Imagine how it can be to a once-known god.

Without breaking his steely stare, Marcus focused his mind on the purpose why he performed the ritual in the first place. He also included the conditions for its release—right after the dark deed has been concluded. He coursed these thoughts through the Sigillum into the entity’s mind. The god-spirit nodded in understanding.

“Destroy him!” Marcus said hissed, feeling a fury of anger that wasn’t his own.

The entity howled and shot through the ceiling, sucking the wind and light with it as he went. The room was suddenly plunged in total darkness, but it was the least of Marcus’ worries. He was in a half-trance, controlling the being with his mind. A hush fell in the shadowy room, broken a few minutes later by a loud unearthly growl from Marcus. His eyes shone with a bright light as he raised his arm holding the dagger and stabbed the effigy in the heart area, piercing through his other hand.

Through the hinges of the locked door, everything that happened was being watched.

The light went out and Marcus, losing consciousness, fell on the floor, his blood soaking the name inscribed upon the effigy.

It was the name of Jesse’s boyfriend.

***

“Where did you get that scar?”

Marcus was pulled back to the present time. He was pulling out the tools from his backpack, preparing his space as he was engaged in small talk by a middle-aged woman from The Mysterium he has never seen before. She was wearing a bright floral summer dress and covered her shoulders in a contrasting dark red shawl.

“Huh? Oh, sorry. You mean this?” Marcus held up his left hand for the woman to see.

“Yeah. That looks like it was a deep cut,” the woman held his hand gently, turning it around to examine it. Her eyes widened a bit seeing it went through to the other side. “Or a stab wound.”

“Oh, I got drunk one time at a friend’s party and kinda broke a window,” Marcus smiled awkwardly through the lie. “I leaned on it and didn’t notice the glass sticking out the frame.”

The woman winced. “Wow, that’s… unfortunate.”

“Well, you know, Stolichnaya happened,” he chuckled a bit as he took back his hand and dug more tools from his backpack. “I don’t think we have been introduced. I’m Marcus.”

“I’m Rosie. Pleased to meet you, Marcus. Although the place could’ve been better,” the woman said as she lighted some beeswax candles she placed in a large circle around her.

Marcus replied with a laugh, a little louder than he intended. “True,” he looked around the place. The Astral Tower condominium in Manila is old. Parts of the interiors of the hallway were starting to show tell-tale signs of age. Maintenance from the rent paid by the tenants was trying to hold back the progression but it can only do so much. Time can be a slow but ruthless force.

“Alright! We have installed the Velarium Silentium around the area to close us in,” Alvin said as he walked in on the two of them from the fourteenth floor landing of the stairs. Alvin was the secretary of The Mysterium and, in Marcus’ opinion, the most agreeable one he has ever dealt with among them. He was the one leading this certain operation as per the order from the higher ups of the group. The Screen of Silence he mentioned was a nifty spell used to eliminate all sounds, as well as cause the unwary to lose interest in the area where it was cast. “How are we going with the Cone of Power, Rosie?”

Rosie did not respond. She was already sitting cross-legged in the middle of the circle of candles with eyes closed. Her lips moved as she silently uttered some unintelligible chant.

“She’s a… Wiccan?” Marcus asked Alvin in a whisper.

Alvin turned to him, his chinky eyes narrowing a bit. “One of the best,” he whispered back.

Marcus held up both his hands in defense. “Hey, no judgment there. I never doubted their… abilities, you know. Merely curious.”

Alvin smiled widely, his eyes disappeared entirely into two lines drawn on either side of his nose. “Just messing with you, buddy. Are you ready?”

“Ages ago, man,” replied Marcus.

“Alright, again, we’ll let Rosie finish building up the Cone. She will be our energy reservoir and we draw from her. After that, James, Lester, and I will draw out the entity and then you will constrain it,” Alvin reiterated for everyone who is not in a trance state. “Our orders were for the demon to be brought back to the Temple as intact as possible. Everybody clear on that?” He held both his thumbs up and wagged it, his face seeking approval.

The other two guys with him nodded in approval. Marcus smiled and took his place in between Rosie and Alvin’s boys. Rosie went on chanting in a language Marcus still couldn’t comprehend. It sounded like French or something close. He noticed the unmistakable glow around her as she uttered the final word of the chant. She looked at Alvin and nodded, giving the go signal.

Alvin and the others turned towards the door of Unit 1406, where the “accident” happened a few days ago. There were yellow police lines crisscrossing the door and, as the guys started chanting the Latin Ducendum Spell, these began to tremble and eventually snapped. The door to the apartment unit burst open and a strong wind came out, almost extinguishing Rosie’s candles, if not for the Cone of Power she built. Damn, she’s good, thought Marcus.

The wind died down as Marcus raised his hand and prepared to activate the Circle of Cassiel. What followed was nothing but silence. No demon came out of the unit. All of them had a confused look on their faces.

“What happened? Where is the demon?” asked Marcus.

He was answered by a derisive laughter that sounded like four different voices in unison. It was coming from the part where the hallway turned into a corner. The ceiling lights flickered on and off as all of them turned to look in the direction of the laughter.

“Marcus! Now!” Alvin shouted at him just in time as the demon’s huge fanged head appeared from the corner.

Alarmed, Marcus raised his hands and began the chant. “Clamavi ad te, Cassiel Archangele—” He was suddenly cut off by an unknown voice, overpowering his. “Oblivisci!”

Marcus stumbled forward as if he was pushed from behind by an unknown force. He suddenly forgot the words that he was supposed to say. He looked at Alvin’s terror-struck face, screaming something at him. He couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. Alvin’s voice sounded like it’s coming from the other end of a very long tunnel and muffled by overlapping echoes.

“A forgetting spell! We’re fucked!” Alvin faced the demon and tried to raise the quickest shielding spell he could remember. The demon bounded towards the group and knocked one of them unconscious inside the apartment unit. With one clawed hand, it sliced through Lester who just then produced a fireball in his hand. It sputtered out into a thin wisp of smoke as he fell down on his face, dead.

Rosie began chanting furiously again, feeding energy to Alvin’s shield. Alvin’s arms were shaking as he tried to sustain the spell with his own energy to protect those behind him. The flames of the candles surrounding Rosie began to rise higher and her glow was starting to radiate heat. Her very eyes started to turn white and she was convulsing. Her chant started to be more high-pitched until it became a shrill scream as parts of her started to erupt in flames. She has built too much energy more than her physical body can handle and she was consumed by it. Her scream died down and she fell down in a burning heap behind Marcus.

The demon started pounding on the shield and this put more pressure on Alvin. The veins in his arms started showing then burst, squirting blood from his ruptured skin. He fell turning backwards and met Marcus in the eyes. Excruciating pain, confusion, and shock swirled on his expression.

“W-What the f-fuck, man?” he managed to say as the demon’s claw burst forth through his chest, clutching his heart. Alvin’s blood splattered on Marcus’ face as he got face to face with the demon. He could smell its sulfuric breath, like rotten eggs, and he was frozen nauseous where he stood.

“Gigim xul bara! Bara edin na zu!” the same unknown voice earlier rang clear through the hallway. It was chanting an old Mesopotamian spell. Out from the shadows, the owner of the voice stepped out and repeated the spell, more firmly this time. Marcus’ memory fell back into place. It was the Shield of Marduk, an ancient potent magic made to drive out demons of whatever kind.

“Bara edin na zu!” A golden circle of light materialized and flew past Marcus. It hit the demon and drove it through the end of the hallway growling. Marcus heard glass shattering and then a muffled thud. Then there was silence.

The figure stepped closer so Marcus could see his face more clearly.

“Hello, Marcus The Murderer. Long time no see,” the figure said with a smile.

Marcus now recognized the voice. It belonged to an old lover of his.

“George,” he said. “What the devil are you doing here?”

To be continued.

photo credits here

Verbum Chapter One: Foreshadowing

They say music soothes the savage beast. That was not the case for Jesse right now as he threw out all his pillows from the bed as he looked for his mobile phone blaring with his alarm music.

“Goddamnit!” he cursed in general terms. But mostly it was for himself for not deactivating it a week ago when he lost his job, and also for choosing an annoying MIDI dance tune for his alarm music.

What’s more annoying was when he found his phone on top of his dresser, he realized that it wasn’t his alarm after all. It was a phone call. Why on earth did he set a cloying MIDI music for a ring tone?

“Yeah?” he said after sliding the screen of his phone to answer. It was his friend, Marcus. He made a mental note to change the music later after this call.

“Jesse! I heard about what happened between you guys. I’m so sorry to hear that,” Marcus said without preamble.

Really? I have to wake up for this? Jesse thought with a slight annoyance. He’s not a very agreeable person when roused from sleep. “Yeah, well, it was bound to happen. You’ve seen it yourself,” he replied. He didn’t bother to hide his annoyance from Marcus. They’ve been friends for years and Marcus has been immunized from his sometimes snappy way of talking.

“True. But still, a break up is a break up. How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Jesse lied. “Can I go back to sleep?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were still sleeping at past 10 in the morning,” Marcus said sarcastically. 

“You know, they say depressed people sleep a lot. You sure you’re okay?”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yes,” Marcus said, suddenly serious. “There is something we need to talk about. It might interest you.”

“Might. Ciao!” Jesse hung up, switched his phone to airplane mode, threw it in a pile of pillows and went back to bed. He did not go to sleep, though. His senses were already jarred awake by the phone’s ringing and now thoughts were swirling in his head.

He thought of his recent break up. Marcus was the one who foretold it. His ability for precognition has been running wild the time around Hallowe’en. Before Jesse created a magic seal for him, that was the last prophecy Marcus uttered. He tried to save his relationship with his six-year boyfriend but, apparently, Fate was dead-set on its plan and nothing can avert the inevitable. The experience taught him one thing: he can’t always play a god. He realized he is still entangled within the machinations of the Universe and he is not exempt from its laws. Not that the gods are either. And the funnier thing is how Fate played out the events that led to that.

He put his arm behind his head as he lay on the only pillow that remained on his bed. He’s been thinking too much about what happened again. It’s been weeks and his self-medication proved effective. Maybe it’s time to have some more of it.

He drew a sigil in the air above his face using his finger. He swore not to use any form of magic after the incident except for this one, which he treats as his drug. It glowed octarine and was absorbed through his forehead. In no time, Jesse was sent to a dreamless slumber, unmindful of everything happening around him in the waking world.

***

“Bitch. As always,” said Marcus to the dial tone as Jesse ended their conversation. The disinterestedness from his distraught friend made him realize that he might go through this undertaking by himself. A few days ago, the occult group The Mysterium contacted him regarding some disturbance in Astral Tower, a condominium in Manila. They need not really tell him. He felt the fluctuation in some energies somewhere there himself. An hour later, the late evening news reported the case of an alleged suicide of a young woman who jumped from her unit on the fourteenth floor. That isn’t something that should surprise him. Suicides happen every now and then around the Metro. People choose to do it for a number of reasons. There aren’t enough anti-depressants or shrinks available and sometimes, it seems sensible to just take the easy way out. He will not be the one to judge their guilt. Hello, first world problems.

The reason why this certain suicide caught his attention was the effect it had on the occult community in Manila. To elicit a reaction from The Mysterium and to have them call their people means a great deal. This was no ordinary suicide. Heck, it may not even be a suicide at all. Something else was at work here.

The only problem Marcus was facing was he can’t see too far out. True, his psychic abilities have been amplified after Hallowe’en came by, as well as his other powers, but right now everything seems cloudy. His visions look like they’ve been applied with a Gaussian blur for weeks now, and that is why he wanted Jesse to go along with him. The guy, in his best days, has an uncanny knack of predicting probabilities of events without having the need for a psychic peek. Problem is, after the massive mess that happened in Makati, Jesse was inconsolable and swore off magic altogether. That’s a bit of a setback since he felt like he broke the seal that he made for him. He hasn’t told him though; he suspects somebody else broke it. Had he been under attack? He can’t be sure. Perhaps he was ‘blinded’, that’s why he can’t see things the way he used to.

He took out the box he keeps under the bed. Maybe there is something he can do himself without being too dependent on other people. He took out a smaller, ancient-looking box with intricate carvings on the lid and opened it. There were various semi-precious stones haphazardly stacked on top of one another. He dug through them and pulled out a rough-cut carnelian the size of an onion, carved with ancient curly runes. The stone itself is relatively smooth from age and much use. He clasped the stone in his right hand, closed his eyes and concentrated.

“Ponpye, geri mwen,” he uttered. His entire body was wrapped in a faint glimmer of flame that burned for exactly five seconds and was gone. Marcus opened his eyes and tried to look into what will happen at the condominium later.

He still got nothing but clouds.

“Damn it!” he swore under his breath. He put the stone back in its box and placed it on the table. He sat on his bed, frustrated, wondering what is blinding him that is so powerful not even a Creole spell could burn it away.

His phone beeped, signaling a text message. He opened it and read, “See you at 7pm at Padre Faura St. Bring weapons.”

Weapons? It’s that bad? He hit reply and typed, “What exactly are we up against here?”

Marcus wasn’t really that much of a combat mage and his knowledge of combat spells was limited to shielding and restraining. He probably figured he’d be going with more offensive mages and he’d be the defensive line. He stood up, took his backpack from his closet and put the box of stones inside. He also got his diagram of the Circle of Cassiel, for the constraining of entities, rolled it and stuffed it inside. His phone beeped again. He immediately picked it up and opened The Mysterium’s reply.

“A rogue demon,” it read.

Marcus’ jaw dropped.

“Holy shit.”

***

The thing bounded across the 14^th floor hallway, jumping from floor to wall to ceiling to floor again, laughing maniacally in four different voices. It’s been three days since it last fed on a soul. The things it gets in this plane is not enough for sustenance.

Revenge is the feeling it feeds on. That’s what he was summoned for by some mage about a month ago to this plane. Unfortunately, in the middle of the summoning, the intended target suddenly died for some dratted reason and he was ejected right out of his sigil into the filthy atmosphere of this plane. He could not find his way back where he came from and he had to look for scraps of revenge feelings in this place, which are not strong and all-consuming enough.

It stopped dead in its tracks and turned its head. It smelled something, the distinct smell of revenge laced with intense anger, one that burns lividly.

The demon turned its massive fanged head and bounded towards the source of the scent, baring its black claws for the kill.

photo credit goes here.