Jory Strong - Ghostland

Javier pressed the end of the barrel against the open mesh of the cage and pulled the trigger. A dart connected to thin wire struck Aziel. He jerked, cried, convulsed as electric charges pulsed into him until Javier released the trigger, leaving Aziel lying on his side, still except for his rapid breathing.

A fury unlike any Zurael had ever known filled him. He fought the entrapment spell until he was panting as hard as Aziel.

Blood poured from Aisling’s neck where she’d tried to get to her pet. Javier shook his head. “This won’t do at all.”

He made a show of adjusting the settings on the gun. “If you force me to pull the trigger, Aisling, it will most likely kill your pet. Do not speak unless I specifically ask you a question. Do not move unless I tell you to.”

Javier glanced at his assistant. “Aubrey, go ahead and release her.” Aubrey stepped away from Aisling, keeping the knife in front of her as if she felt vulnerable without her hostage. Zurael would have struck willingly, but wasn’t given a choice. Javier said, “Kill Aubrey,” and he did in a quick slash of tail and talons.

It was the instant Aisling should have rushed toward Javier and touched him before he could command Zurael to stop her-but she couldn’t do it. Love for Aziel held her in place and the opportunity was lost in a spray of blood and crack of bone.

“I hate to waste a promising and very willing student,” Javier said, “but I’m afraid that given the circumstances it was unavoidable. Students can learn too much. Now then, Zurael, I want you to take Aubrey’s position behind Aisling. There’s no need for you to bother with a knife. Your talons against her jugular should be sufficient.”

It took three commands. But in the end Zurael complied.

Familiar heat swamped her as he held her back to his chest. The sharp tips of his nails pressed to her throat and she shivered with real fear-as she had the first time she’d felt them on her skin-and not the erotic fear she’d experienced since then.

“Make her bleed,” Javier said, not bothering to pause before issuing the command twice more to force Zurael into obedience.

Aisling stiffened. Tears flowed freely down her face as sharp talons dug into her, sending rivulets of blood trailing down her neck.

“That’s enough,” Javier said, apparently satisfied that despite having once belonged to her, Zurael was now completely under his command.

Javier used his bandaged hand to pull the black sheet off what Aisling thought was a table, but now saw was an altar. A clay tablet lay on top of it, next to a rectangular urn placed on its side.

She could feel shock ripple through Zurael. She could feel him fighting to release her, and though she couldn’t be positive, she thought it was the sight of the tablet that caused his reaction, and not the urn.

Javier stood the urn up. It was covered in sigils. He pulled a stopper out and set it on the altar. “I’ll admit, I haven’t had much success in confining demons. For most of us they’re extremely dangerous to summon in the first place, much less order into a containment vessel. And then of course, there’s the risk of offending whatever demon lord they call master. But given Zurael’s apparent devotion to you… well, I’m feeling good about my chances of being successful. Bring her closer.”

Aisling barely glanced at the altar. Her attention went to Aziel.

Fresh blood was smeared across the metal floor of the cage. His breathing had steadied, but his eyes remained closed.

She wanted to weep at the sight of him. Instead she curled her hands into fists, readied herself to act when the chance presented itself.

“I’m almost embarrassed to share this with you, Aisling,” Javier said. “And I suspect your skills, perhaps coupled with the application of Ghost, will make me feel as though I’ve wasted years of my life-and quite a few of my students’ lives-trying to gather all the missing pieces of this tablet and translate it into something useful.

“Lately I’ve been so sure that a little tweak here, an educated guess there, and the incantation would work. Unfortunately all I’ve ended up with are empty bodies and, more recently, slaughtered students who brought me unwelcome attention from their wealthy families.”

Aisling glanced at the tablet. It was old, broken, still missing small sections. An empty shape at the bottom captured her attention. Her thoughts flashed to Tamara’s dead lover, his hand inches away from a flat piece of stone with writing etched on it, its shape the same as the one in front of her.

Some of the recovered pieces fit together tightly. Others crumbled at the edges, distorting the symbols or leaving blank spaces.

Vague memories stirred as she scanned the text. Ancestral memories perhaps, though some of the curves and shapes reminded her of those Zurael had drawn in the dirt. A cold shiver slid down her spine when she came to the sigils she did recognize, the ones she’d seen painted on Elena and later on Nicholas.

Javier ran his fingers over a line of text. “I won’t bore you with all the details of how I’ve acquired the missing pieces over the years, but as you can see the tablet is ancient. In fact if you believe some of what’s written in the moldy tomes the Church has in its possession, it was given to an elite priesthood by God himself, much like the commandments were handed to Moses.

“Instead of laws though, what’s inscribed on the tablet gave mankind-or at least those deemed worthy by the priesthood-dominion over demons and other spirit beings. It’s ironic when you think about all the heretics and witches and black magic practitioners who have been burned at the stake or otherwise killed by the Church and its religious predecessors. Most of them were working with faulty, weak spells and incantations, developed by man, while the Church once had in its possession god-given instructions. But I digress…”

He turned slightly, shifting his focus to the cage at his feet. “If she attempts to summon help, Zurael, kill her.”

Javier pulled the Taser barb from Aziel with a jerk of his arm. The ferret cried, tried to stand, fell to his side again.

“Good,” Javier said, putting the gun on the floor, then unlatching the cage. He waited a minute before reaching in to pull Aziel out by the scruff of the neck. “I asked you a question over lunch, Aisling, but you declined to answer. Perhaps you’ll reconsider now and confirm what I already know is true. Could you summon a spirit and require it to possess the body of someone foolish enough to Ghost?”

Fear for Aziel churned in her stomach. Nightmare images from her first trip to Sinners crowded in. “Yes.”

“Excellent. See, we’re already starting to work well together. Now for a tougher question. Can you summon a spirit and require it to possess someone who is dead?”

Aisling’s throat closed in on itself as she remembered John’s voice coming from Felipe’s corpse. Her heart thundered in her ears. She shook her head. Lying.

“Wrong answer, I think,” Javier said. “And truthfully, you’re of little use to me if you can’t do that. Ghost is difficult to obtain, and there’s always the possibility it’ll wear off at an inopportune moment or become unavailable.”

From the folds of his robe Javier retrieved an athame. And as quickly as Aubrey had slit Elena’s throat, he did the same to Aziel.

“Prove you can be useful to me,” Javier said, dropping Aziel’s carcass onto the altar. “Bring your pet back to life or fill his physical shell with another entity.”

Aisling shook with grief and rage.

Her throat burned.

Her heart felt as though it had been ripped from her body.

Even the knowledge that Aziel had died before, when he wore other bodies, didn’t lessen the anguish of having witnessed this death, of knowing he’d suffered.