A Heck of a Hex

Chapter 7

“Relax. I think this may be the spawn of the creep that hexed me. I’m not looking for a date.”

“The fact that I’m your sister and I like this guy, has nothing to do with your decision to try and seduce him?” Lucille said. Kenny walked in, ordered a cup of coffee, and walked over to the table where Dalia and Lucille sat. He smiled when he saw Lucille and grew much more serious when he locked eyes with Dalia.

“This is my sister Dalia,” said Lucille. Kenny reached out his left hand. Dalia examined the wrist of the boy. He realized his faux pax and quickly switched hands.

“Sorry,” apologized Kenny. “I forget polite society encourages us to share with our right hand.” “What polite society doesn’t k hurt it,” Dalia stated extending her left hand. He smirked.

“What are conventions but humans trying to place an order into their frenzied lives.”

 They gripped their left hands. A strange pulsating current of energy shot up Dalia’s arm and raced through her entire body. She observed the birthmark, studying it, noticing structure, color, size, and shape.

“That’s quite an interesting birthmark,” Dalia admitted. He pulled his arm away.

“It’s a symbol of my inner strength, a dragon,” boasted Kenny.

“Does it have something to do with Windfire?” Dalia locked eyes with Kenny. The boy’s eyes flashed a quick shade of yellow and his pupils became a bit lizard-like. All these changes to the eyes came and went within a half-second. Windfire was the name of the religion my father started,” admitted Kenny.

“My father Alex Sanders is the greatest warlock in the world.” Dalia’s nostrils flared. She slammed her fist on the table.

“Alex Sanders was a nut case. He hexed me and tried having me killed, but now he’s dead.”

A hoarse laugh devoid of much emotion escaped Kenny’s throat.

“My father is very much alive, or at least clinging to it. You did this to him!” growled Kenny. The son of a warlock raised his hand and the doors locked by themselves. When Kenny snapped his fingers tables and chairs flew through the air. People went flying against walls or crashing onto the floor. Students shook their heads while muttering and cursing. They were also rubbing their heads and aching backs. They staggered to their feet and tried ascending upon the young warlock, but a ring of flames shot up keeping the potential mob at bay.

“You listen here,” Kenny roared with anger. “When you’re nicer to me you can have your precious sister back!” He grabbed Lucille by the waist. Dalia leaped Kenny, but more flames shot up and boxed in around her. In an instant a gray puff of smoke engulfed Lucille and Kenny, then they vanished.

The fire disappeared and the doors unlocked themselves. Everyone kind of looked all around, confused.  They all put the tables and chairs back in their normal places and just went about their tasks. It was as if nothing had happened.

“What’s wrong with you jerks?” Dalia demanded to know. “My sister was just kidn*pped. Isn’t anyone going to try and help me get her back?” Everyone stared at the girl. Whispers of:

“She’s crazy,” and “Who’s she talking about?” could be heard from the crowd. She pulled her cell phone out and called the police. After examining the campus for several hours, the police left. Her knees shook; she felt sick. Dalia sprinted through the campus. People watched her pass by. Some sneered and others shook their heads. By the time she got to her dorm, Dalia was spent.

She dug through her backpack searching for her syllabus for the “Paranormal Studies” class. She found it, clutching it like it was the map to the lost city of Atlantis. She looked for Professor Moss’s number and called him. She kept whispering and repeating the phrase

“Come on, pick up.”

“Hello,” Professor Moss stated.

“Professor Moss,” began Dalia. “Kenny Sanders kidn*pped my sister, please help me!”

 Dalia. Pleaded.

“Meet me in my office in twenty minutes,” replied a seemingly placid Professor Moss. She hung up the phone and hurried off to the meeting with Professor Moss. She waited by the door with great anticipation. Her foot began tapping; she folded her arms across her chest. Then she started pacing; back and forth she walked. Finally, Professor Moss arrived. Her heart leaped with jubilance. He unlocked the office door and ushered her inside. His arm was in a sling.

“You say your sister has been kidn*pped?” asked the professor standing over her.

“Yes,” Dalia replied. “By Kenny Sanders.”

“There is no such person as Kenny Sanders or Lucille Becker. There is no record of either of these two people enrolled in Buck University at this time,” insisted Professor Moss.

“That’s a lie! Help me find my sister creep!” screamed Dalia. He leaned in clutching the girl’s wrist. He pulled a syringe out of his sling. Then the professor stuck her with the needle.

“Ouch,” she cried out. Dalia fought back at first, but she started getting drowsy, then she passed out.

Chapter 8

 Awakening a few hours later in a daze, she found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. She sat up and climbed to her feet. Her eyes needed time to adjust to her new surroundings. She bumped into something but couldn’t see what it was. She peered into the darkness, squinting, and secretly wishing for feline night vision capabilities. She felt around for a wall. When she found it, Dalia slid her hand along the wall, feeling for a light switch. When she found it, Dalia flipped the switch on, and light poured into the room.

 The room was fairly basic, with four walls and a bed, not much else. No windows were present. She noticed there was a mail slot in the middle of the door. She walked over to the door, peered through the slot, and saw a massive Rottweiler staring back at her. It began barking and gnashing its teeth. She closed the slot, staggered backward, and tried desperately to catch her balance. She failed, landing hard on her back. Dalia stood up rubbing her sore backside.

Next, a letter came through the mail slot. She opened it; the letter read as follows:

“Dear Dalia,

You are in your new abode. You are going to witness the birth of the second coming of the greatest warlock in the world.

Congratulations Mommy!

More to come.

Sincerely, a friend.”

She gawked at the letter while her head throbbed.

“What the heck?” she muttered. “Mommy?”

Dalia tried opening the door. She tried rounding on it, beating on it, and kicking it.

“Hey let me out of here,” she demanded. She paced the room. The walls seemed to be closing in on her, suffocating her, crushing her, and causing her to go down, down, down. What story was it her sister had read and was always talking about? The Fall of the House of Usher. She seemed to remember Lucille talking about the guy in that story burying his sister in the wall.

She shuddered. “Don’t think about that,” she scolded herself. “You’ve got to find a way out of here.”

Something metal fell through the mail slot; it shone. Dalia walked over to the shiny metal object. Upon closer examination, Dalia figured out it was a key. She picked it up and studied it more. Next, she tried unlocking the door and the key worked. When she opened up the door, the massive Rottweiler leaped at her. She evaded the raging k-9 and managed to lock the dog in the room by itself. Palomo appeared before her.

“Palomo,” Dalia said transfixed in place. “You’re dead,”

“My spirit lives!” declared Palomo. “I need to be reborn. “You are with child. The baby will be my vessel to rebirth.” Dalia shook her head.

“I can’t be,” Dalia stammered. “Do you mean I’m…?” Palomo smiled and nodded.

“How?” asked Dalia.

“Kenny,” Palomo answered. Dalia started dry heaving. The back of her throat stung as she tried to swallow what wanted to be puke.

“I don’t know what to do?”

“That’s natural,” Palomo said. A window was nearby. “We’ll talk later. We need to escape,” Polomo hoisted Dalia up and helped her exit through the window. Once Dalia had been freed, Polomo turned herself into a fog. The spirit of the goddess easily slipped through the window. Now both Dalia and Polomo were standing outside the house.

“Where are we?” Dalia asked.

“This is Professor Moss’s house. He’s a member of the Windfire Cult,” Polomo informed her.

Dalia just shook her head. “I’m so confused.”

“We’ll catch up once we’re back on campus,” Solomon said. The goddess enveloped Dalia in a shroud of mist, scrambling up the teen’s molecules. They returned to campus, more specifically, they returned to Dalia’s dorm. Palomo returned herself and Dalia to their original forms. Now Dalia felt as though the room was spinning. She clutched her head and collapsed on her own bed.

“A brief dizzy spell is normal after scrambling and unscrambling a person’s molecules. It will pass,” Polomo assured her. Dalia sat up in bed.

“I’m fine. How big is this cult?” Palomo looked at Dalia.

“They are a small sect, but are looking to grow.”

“Nice and cryptic,” Dalia said.

“I’m going tell you what I’m gonna do…” Then there was a knock at the door. Dalia answered it and a figure holding a b****y knife reached out her arms and wrapped them around Dalia’s neck. Unbelievably it turned out to be her sister Lucille!

“You’re alive!” Dalia exclaimed. “How’d you escape from cuckoo Kenny?”

“We fought and I grabbed the knife he was holding. Then I forced it into his horrible chest,” stated Lucille. Palomo took the knife from Lucille and licked the blood off the blade.

“That’s the blade of Divinity; it’s the only thing that can kill off a warlock,” Palomo said.

“And most assuredly, that is the blood of a Sanders’.”

“Professor Moss told me that you had conceived Kenny with Alex,” Dalia admitted.

“You are correct,” replied Palomo.

“How could you do anything with that creep?” Dalia asked.

 Palomo shrugged, letting out a deep sigh.

“I was attracted to the power. It may be hard for you to grasp a concept of Alex being charming and dancing barefoot in the rain.” Dalia pretended to stick a finger down her throat.

“No woman is an island,” Palomo said.

“John Donne,” Lucille said. “It’s paraphrasing anyway.”

“We have a desire to be loved and cherished,” Palomo added. Next Polomo walked over to Dalia and placed her hand over the teenager’s belly; then Polomo vanished. She reappeared a few moments later with a long face.

“Another uses this child as a vessel for rebirth.

“Who?” Dalia sounded alarmed.

“Kenny Sanders,” Palomo admitted. Right then, Dalia flew into a rage. Her face contorted into an ugly mask of anger, her temples flushed with blood, and her nostrils flared. She gritted her teeth and Dalia clenched her fists.

“That no-good slime ball!” Dalia ranted. I’m going to have a Sanders’ baby? No way!” Dalia took the blade of Divinity and plunged it into her own chest. Lucille flew into a panic.

“We’ve got to get her to a hospital!” Blood poured out of Dalia’s gaping wound. It also gushed out of her mouth. Dalia dropped to her knees and the world began darkening. She saw a rush of images flood her memories, life events, dead relatives, along her entire past. Dalia’s world-first fell into darkness and then came back into the light.

Suddenly she found herself in a forest. The sky was bright; the sun warmed her. An enchanting voice with an intoxicating melody filled the ears of the confused Dalia.

“Where am I?” wondered Dalia. “Am I dead? Is this purgatory? Heaven?! A mass hallucination from hemorrhaging blood?” she shrugged. The sun warmed her arms, legs, and face. The trees were tall and strong sprouting green vegetation for hair. She continued walking. The singing grew louder the closer she grew to its origin. It was not a song she recognized.

The song was not even in her own language. Instead, it was being sung in Italian. She came across a stump and upon the stump sat a maiden with long dark tresses. Her back faced Dalia. The mystery girl played the harp. She wore a blue dress. Dalia approached her.

“Excuse me,” she called out to the singing lady. Her singing and her music stopped.

“Your music is absolutely beautiful. Is this Heaven?” Dalia asked. There was a silence.

“I don’t mean to bother you but I am lost; I just want to know where I am.” The Italian girl turned her head around. She was missing a face; there was only a skull. Dalia screamed while her legs turned to rubber. She forced herself to run away, venturing deeper into the woods.

“If this isn’t Heaven…” Dalia just shuddered. The deeper she went into the woods, the more the trees started to block out the sun. Not only did the amount of light present change but so did the temperature. Instantly Dalia noticed a twenty-degree drop in temperature. She shivered and hugged herself for warmth. Soon even the vegetation atop the trees was no longer there. Why is there no light and all the trees are bare now?” Dalia wondered.

She came across a makeshift altar in a clearing. Men wearing animal masks danced around a campfire. At the alter a headless goat lied strapped to it. A n***d being with the upper body of a man and hooves for feet stood at the altar. He was reciting from the book of Satan, in Latin. Then he raised the knife high above his head, When he noticed the strange girl, the man called to his disciples:

“Attack!” Dalia went running through the woods trying to get back to where she had come from.  Everything vanished. She had no choice but to run the other way toward the masked men.  

“What did they want?” Dalia wondered. “Did they want to do to me what they did to the goat?” Dalia shuddered. Dalia found herself surrounded. She juked them out racing past that would be attacking horde. Their angry shouts sounded behind her. So Dalia ran. Her powerful legs churned up and down like the pistons on a truck. The shouting and cursing behind her grew fainter the farther away she got from it all. Next Dalia happened upon a cabin. She knocked on the door.

“Who’s out there?” a man called out.

“My name is Dalia Becker; I am lost and looking for shelter.”

A white-haired man opened the door. He wore black pants and a black shirt with a white-collar. The man even wore dark sunglasses.

“My name is Judas,” the man said. “Do come in.” Judas ushered Dalia inside. He shut the door behind her. The smell of a thick meaty stew wafted through the cabin.

“What are you running from child?” asked Judas.

“There’s a freaky bunch of masked weirdos trying to kill me,” said Dalia.

“You must have interrupted their blood-letting rituals,” Judas replied.

“They would not have been able to hurt you.” Dalia frowned.

“Why not?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Judas. “Because you’re already dead.”

“Is there any way I can go back?” Dalia asked.

“You’re what’s known as a wandering spirit,” Judas began. “You have the potential to move on to the afterlife or be called back to Earth. If I were you I’d find the door of judgment.”

“Where and what is that,” Dalia asked.

“It’s the door all spirits must go through to decide their fate,” Judas said.

“Where is this door of judgment?” Dalia questioned.

“Keep moving forward,” he said. “Would you care for some stew?”

 Dalia’s stomach roared with a beast’s hunger.

“Yes,” I’m starving!”

 Judas ladled up two bowls of the stuff and the prophet and the college girl ate together.

“Something just occurred to me,” responded Dalia. “If I’m dead why am I still hungry?”

“Again, you are a wandering spirit. Your body is still accustomed to the way it was on Earth,”

Judas explained. “These feelings of Earthly want shall vanish after you pass through the door of judgment.” Fatigue soon overtook Dalia.

“You may stay here for the night,” Judas offered. She slept well on a cot. When she arose the next morning she continued on her journey. She walked for what seemed like an hour or so before coming upon the door of judgment. It was an ivory door with a crystal doorknob. She gripped the handle, turned the knob, and then hesitated.

“Do I really want to do this?” Dalia wondered. “What choice do I have?”

 She took a long pause, breathed in, and opened the door. Immediately she dropped straight down. Darkness enveloped her. Further, she plunged. What would happen when she hit the bottom? Would she keep falling forever? She had no idea of the answer to any of these things. Dalia was just the slain spirit of late teen suicide. Dalia continued her descent.

 She landed in a pool of water, or it was more like a pit with some water in it. The water began bubbling. A sound ripped through the pit, a ghastly roar. A slithering tentacle grabbed Dalia by the ankle and jerked her under the water. She struggled and kicked, but still, further, she sank. She felt like her lungs would bust or her ears pop. As if all the water would be sucked down the drain in a tub, she descended a slide and landed in the underworld.

A lake of fire bubbled and a hooded ferryman beckoned for her to get on the boat. Reluctantly she agreed. Dalia climbed in the boat and the ferryman paddled them across the lake of fire. The air smelled of sulfa.  

“Who are you?” asked Dalia.