"Jonah, you're running out of time."
And it's not like he was lying. Here we were in this dirty, dark room with what was about to be a very dangerous spirit. Matt was already gone. Everyone else, God willing, was going to stay very very far away. The clock, that damnable Baaracles' Clock, was very slowly beginning to tick.
"You have until all the hands come free." I could feel his hands on my shoulders, so warm against the cold, thick air of the cellar that they burnt. Or maybe that was the hellfire. It shouldn't burn someone used to the Dark Arts, not enough to hurt, anyway. I was starting to realize how powerful he really was. But there was no time to dwell on how far, far outclassed we were--all of us--because the second hand was closing on a minute, the minute hand was right against a number, and when that tiny, finely crafted needle hit the XII, everything would go straight to hell.
"I can't fight it like this, Jonah. I need a human, with a body and a soul that separate from each other. We went over this when you were thirteen. I need you."
When I was thirteen, this man explained demonic possession to me. He defined it as one big leap of faith on the human's part, when they even had a choice. He was very clear: to be possessed means to give over every single bit of control. You don't breathe, your heart doesn't beat, unless the demon wants that. And it is dangerous. And if you do it, you will probably die. And that was the end of the lesson.
"How can I trust you?"
He tightened his grip, turning my head to the side. His eyes were totally black, pupils nonexistent, the mark of a demon from hell. Dark skin, black hair. Hat cocked to the side. It could have been ten years ago, except now I knew what he was under that voice. He was one big gamble himself.
Let alone the act of trusting him.
"I'm your teacher," he whispered. "Don't you trust the one who taught you everything you know? Have I ever steered you wrong? Have I ever hurt you, Jonah?"
"You want me to--"
"I want you to save them. I want what you want. For everyone to make it home alive. And for this marj to go on to the next world. But I need your help and you don't have very long to decide." His voice dropped low. "Now listen to me. We have twenty seconds. I need you to let me into you, Jonah, I don't want to hurt you doing this. You'll have to trust my word if you want to save them."
Everything to lose and everything to gain. I could fight it on my own, but who knew what would happen? A cruel, sadistic, destructive spirit like a marj could slide past you and possess your friend. It could crawl into the walls and burn the house down. A demon wasn't much better. What if he never gave me back?
Then they'd all die.
"Relax."
One big gamble, but then again, I didn't have a choice. Possession was the only way to win. Let him in or they'd all die... take that chance or see everyone trapped forever.
"I'm going to give you back halfway in. When I do, I need you to activate the circle in the floor."
"There isn't a circle--"
"There will be." He leaned closer. He was so warm. "Relax."
There was nothing to do but relax, clear my mind and let him...
Smack!
Pain exploded into my shoulder. I went down and rolled, coming back up in a crouch. What the hell?
In front of me, some kind of mechanical, dripping skeleton was lunging forward. Dodging showed it from a different angle; it was bulky and slick, it moved with a fluidity that didn't seem possible. A sickly yellow haze of ectoplasm covered the mech in places, forming muscles, corded shoulders, a neck, an abdomen. It was constantly bubbling and moving, hissing as it hit the dirt in globs.
"Move!"
That was his voice. What happened? Where was he? There was no time to wonder about it because the thing had turned and was coming back. I kicked it...
And the blow shattered its arm.
Fantastic.
"Bless it, keep going! What did I teach you?!"
"How did it do this?!"
"Keep moving!"
The metal began to sling off it. The air got thicker. It shuddered.
"Jump it. Get it on the ground."
The voice was coming from behind me. He'd left? What was going on? But before I could understand, the dirt under my hands was warming up. A circle--the circle. Of course. The ectoplasm roiled and sizzled, tossing around on the metal. The marj shrieked, high, rough. Like someone's nose, fingernails, and balls being ripped off with a pair of rusty pliers. It struggled. I kicked and kneed it, held it down.
"Come on, give it some power." Now he was right beside me, one hand on my back, between my shoulder blades. "This has to be your soul doing the work, Jonah. Do it."
The heat doubled, tripled. "What about the gamble?" Now the textbook side effects of possession were coming through. There was hardly any power left to give.
"You're gonna have to take another chance." The marj bucked and he shoved us both down. "Heaven, keep it going! More!"
"I don't have any more!"
"You do. Let it all go."
All of it? Power coursing through my hands, fresh and hot. My spine began to freeze from the bones out, heaviness coming a little after the cold. Tears welling, chest tight. It's not that it was painful. It's that it was the last few measures of life force.
Going that low was more than just a leap of faith.
It was almost certain death.
It was the biggest chance a human magician could take. Any human magician.
"There you go. Good." The circle was burning my skin.
"You.... promise me...."
He leaned over us both, both of the souls in the circle. His hair brushed the back of my neck.
"No promises, Jonah. You know that."
And it's not like he was lying. Here we were in this dirty, dark room with what was about to be a very dangerous spirit. Matt was already gone. Everyone else, God willing, was going to stay very very far away. The clock, that damnable Baaracles' Clock, was very slowly beginning to tick.
"You have until all the hands come free." I could feel his hands on my shoulders, so warm against the cold, thick air of the cellar that they burnt. Or maybe that was the hellfire. It shouldn't burn someone used to the Dark Arts, not enough to hurt, anyway. I was starting to realize how powerful he really was. But there was no time to dwell on how far, far outclassed we were--all of us--because the second hand was closing on a minute, the minute hand was right against a number, and when that tiny, finely crafted needle hit the XII, everything would go straight to hell.
"I can't fight it like this, Jonah. I need a human, with a body and a soul that separate from each other. We went over this when you were thirteen. I need you."
When I was thirteen, this man explained demonic possession to me. He defined it as one big leap of faith on the human's part, when they even had a choice. He was very clear: to be possessed means to give over every single bit of control. You don't breathe, your heart doesn't beat, unless the demon wants that. And it is dangerous. And if you do it, you will probably die. And that was the end of the lesson.
"How can I trust you?"
He tightened his grip, turning my head to the side. His eyes were totally black, pupils nonexistent, the mark of a demon from hell. Dark skin, black hair. Hat cocked to the side. It could have been ten years ago, except now I knew what he was under that voice. He was one big gamble himself.
Let alone the act of trusting him.
"I'm your teacher," he whispered. "Don't you trust the one who taught you everything you know? Have I ever steered you wrong? Have I ever hurt you, Jonah?"
"You want me to--"
"I want you to save them. I want what you want. For everyone to make it home alive. And for this marj to go on to the next world. But I need your help and you don't have very long to decide." His voice dropped low. "Now listen to me. We have twenty seconds. I need you to let me into you, Jonah, I don't want to hurt you doing this. You'll have to trust my word if you want to save them."
Everything to lose and everything to gain. I could fight it on my own, but who knew what would happen? A cruel, sadistic, destructive spirit like a marj could slide past you and possess your friend. It could crawl into the walls and burn the house down. A demon wasn't much better. What if he never gave me back?
Then they'd all die.
"Relax."
One big gamble, but then again, I didn't have a choice. Possession was the only way to win. Let him in or they'd all die... take that chance or see everyone trapped forever.
"I'm going to give you back halfway in. When I do, I need you to activate the circle in the floor."
"There isn't a circle--"
"There will be." He leaned closer. He was so warm. "Relax."
There was nothing to do but relax, clear my mind and let him...
Smack!
Pain exploded into my shoulder. I went down and rolled, coming back up in a crouch. What the hell?
In front of me, some kind of mechanical, dripping skeleton was lunging forward. Dodging showed it from a different angle; it was bulky and slick, it moved with a fluidity that didn't seem possible. A sickly yellow haze of ectoplasm covered the mech in places, forming muscles, corded shoulders, a neck, an abdomen. It was constantly bubbling and moving, hissing as it hit the dirt in globs.
"Move!"
That was his voice. What happened? Where was he? There was no time to wonder about it because the thing had turned and was coming back. I kicked it...
And the blow shattered its arm.
Fantastic.
"Bless it, keep going! What did I teach you?!"
"How did it do this?!"
"Keep moving!"
The metal began to sling off it. The air got thicker. It shuddered.
"Jump it. Get it on the ground."
The voice was coming from behind me. He'd left? What was going on? But before I could understand, the dirt under my hands was warming up. A circle--the circle. Of course. The ectoplasm roiled and sizzled, tossing around on the metal. The marj shrieked, high, rough. Like someone's nose, fingernails, and balls being ripped off with a pair of rusty pliers. It struggled. I kicked and kneed it, held it down.
"Come on, give it some power." Now he was right beside me, one hand on my back, between my shoulder blades. "This has to be your soul doing the work, Jonah. Do it."
The heat doubled, tripled. "What about the gamble?" Now the textbook side effects of possession were coming through. There was hardly any power left to give.
"You're gonna have to take another chance." The marj bucked and he shoved us both down. "Heaven, keep it going! More!"
"I don't have any more!"
"You do. Let it all go."
All of it? Power coursing through my hands, fresh and hot. My spine began to freeze from the bones out, heaviness coming a little after the cold. Tears welling, chest tight. It's not that it was painful. It's that it was the last few measures of life force.
Going that low was more than just a leap of faith.
It was almost certain death.
It was the biggest chance a human magician could take. Any human magician.
"There you go. Good." The circle was burning my skin.
"You.... promise me...."
He leaned over us both, both of the souls in the circle. His hair brushed the back of my neck.
"No promises, Jonah. You know that."