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
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