Superheroes and Sorcerers

And now, the exciting conclusion! Again, please read and rewview. Comments are more than appreciated.

We held off moving for a few minutes, just to be safe. The crying of the demon was gone, and Kenzie had taken inventory of her wounds. She was wounded, too hurt for any real combat. Her belly wounds would need attention, better than I could give. Sure, I knew some basic first aid, but we needed someone with a real knack for this. Thankfully, the answer to both the dilemma of the demon and getting some medical. attention lay in the same people.

Moving Kenzie and Abby had been awkward, to say the least. I’d never thought that a quilt with crucifixes stiched on it would have worked, but Kenzie swore by it. It covered the both of them as we made it out to my car. We must have made quite the scene, a wounded witch limping about with a gun leading a big quilt.

I piled us into my car, a red Cooper, and took off for another of the many quaint neighborhoods in San Francisco. I ended up in front of a house, a white deal that was the symbol of the American dream: little fence, mailbox out front, and a perfectly kept garden. I parked out front.

“Where’s this?” Abby asked.

“Home.” I whispered, getting out of the car. I reached out with my senses, trying to find the demon. It was there, just waiting, grating on just the edge of my focus.
“This isn’t your house, Uncle Jake.” Abby chimed in that all-knowing tone any five year-old can muster.

“Nope, it’s not.” I crossed the sidewalk, heading up to the house’s front door. I glanced to the mailbox, where the faint crimson script read Sinclairs. I walked up to the front door, rapped my fingers on the hard wood.

Almost immediately, the door opened. Standing in the door frame was a woman. My mother, Felicia Sinclair. She preferred Lisha. She was tall, with tanned skin, and carrying that sort of timeless feature in her face. Her age could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty, with no real clues in either direction. Her green eyes were sharp, studying. “Jake?” Her voice was a whisper.

I offered the strongest smile I could muster at the present, stiff and while not quite forced, I had to work at it. “Hey, Mom.”

Her arms sprung out, wrapping around my shoulders as quickly as I had said that. She kissed my cheek. “What the hell are you doing here?” She asked.

“Mom,” I rolled my eyes. “Kid here?”

“Right.” She pulled away. “What’s going on?”

Kenzie made a face from where her head popped out in the quilt. “We’ve got a demon after us. It wants to take Abby.”

“Wait?” I looked back to Kenzie. “You could tell what it was saying?”

She nodded to me. “Telepathic broadcasting, I think. Thing can’t talk regularly, I’m thinking, so it talks with psychic energy.”

Lisha furrowed her brow. “That’s a great deal of power. That had to take something on the level of…”

“It’s a walker, Mom.” I replied. “Listen, we need to get in.”

“Of course. All three of you, come in.” Lisha opened the door further and gestured for us to enter. “Oh, McKenzie, dear.” She said as she saw our state. “You’ve been hurt.”

Kenzie have a sort of sheepish smile. “I’m fine, Mrs. Sinclair, just a few cuts here and there.”

My mother shook her head. “Nonsense. Let’s get you inside.”

I sighed as I entered. I didn’t keep in good touch with mother, at least how I should have. Whether it was just the house, and the memories of my father, or if it was remembering how my sister had once tried to burn this place down, they were all sore subjects.

We entered the living room. It never changed much. Ugly green carpet lined the floors, and a love seat and a couch faced the television. There was an electric fireplace on one wall, with a dozen or so pictures on the mantle. Only two up had my father in them. My mother scurried to the kitchen, grabbing a book and several tupperware containers from cabinets.

“That’s your mother?” Abby asked. “She doesn’t look old.”

“Abby!” Kenzie scolded her, though she did so weakly. She shrugged off the quilt, falling with a certain gravity to the couch. Abby climed up next to her on the couch, easily the most calm person here.

I chuckled a little. “It’s okay, Kenzie. Witches age…a little differently. Do you remember Highlander?”

Before Kenzie could stop her, Abby shouted in as terrible of a Scottish accent as she could muster. “There can be only one!” Kenzie glared to clearly tell me me, with no need for words, that she hated me.

“Right.” I said. “Well, except for the whole ‘prize’ deal, it’s sorta like that. Witches hit a certain age, and they just stop aging.”

“Weird.” Abby murmured. My mother returned into the room, carrying a number of Tupperware containers.

“Got the gear, Mom?” I asked.

She nodded. “It’s most of the stuff I have that can work against a demon. Now, can you describe the creature?” She set the containers on the coffee table, sitting down on the floor next to it.

“Yea, um…it’s only appeared really as a shadow so far. It looks like the figure of a woman, but it’s got nails like claws.”

“Don’t forget the crying.” Kenzie reminded me.

Lisha’s eyes immediately centered on me. “Crying? It cried?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get me started. The thing wouldn’t stop.”

Lisha jumped up to her feet. “Oh, freaking Freddie Mercury!” She hissed. “You guys have La llarona on your tails?”

“La ya-what?” I furrowed my brow. “Mom, I don’t work Saturdays for a reason.”

Now it was my mother’s turn to roll her eyes. “You need to actually study something besides the local boogeymen, Jake.” She went to one of the bookshelves in the living room. “La llarona, the weeping woman. Legend goes that she was a woman who killed her children because she wanted to marry a man who wouldn’t take her kids. The legend varies, but the end result is we have a woman who walks the Earth as a demon out of pure spite.”

I sighed. “And all walkers need souls to survive. I’m guessing…”

“She takes the souls of children, Jake. Apparently, Abby is the hag’s next meal.”

“I don’t wanna be a meal.” Abby piped up, her voice weak.

“Don’t worry, sweetie.” Lisha assured her. “No demon’s going to make you a meal.” She

looked over to me. “Jake, I have a plan. At least, a temporary one.”

“What’s that?” I raised an eyebrow, curious.

She pulled out a carton of salt. “We’re going to get it to attack something besides Abby.” She looked over to the couch. “Kenzie, can you move still?”

Kenzie, somewhat stiffly, nodded. “Yea, I can.” She said. With a slow movement, she rose to her feet.

“Good.” Lisha nodded. “I want you to sit on the floor down here. Abby too, all right?” She said. Abby hopped off the couch, following her mother. “No, wait..”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Not on the carpet.” She said, quite firmly. “We’ll do this on the kitchen.”

“Mom!” I rolled my eyes. “We’re trying to save my god daughter from an evil demon so nasty it won’t even stay in hell, and you’re worried about the carpet?”

She sighed. “Bear with me. We’ll move into the kitchen.” And so I gave Kenzie a shoulder for her to lean on, somewhat grudgingly, as we headed into the kitchen.

I bit my lip as I entered, feeling the swirl of energy here. I don’t have much in the way of sensing magic, but even I could feel the true power here. It had been a part of our family for so long. I had cast my first spell sitting on that linoleum. Other, more mundane memories rose, like spilling a pot of boiling water on myself rose to the front. Those kinds of memories can translate to their own certain kind of power.

Kenzie and Abby sat on the floor, and my mother started to pour salt from a carton in a ring around them. “So, what’s the plan?” Kenzie asked.
“Quite simple.” Lisha said. “This is a magic circle. I’ll be fuelling it, keeping the demon out of it. She’ll have to get through me to start at you two.”

“Mom,” I said, my tone now serious. “That takes a hell of a lot of focus to keep up.”

My mother gave me a weary sigh, as if about to repeat a life lesson. “You really need to study more.” She reached onto the kitchen counter towards a tool belt that had been laid out there. She pulled an athame out of it, pricking her thumb with it. She worked a few droplets of blood out of her thumb, onto the circle. She performed it all in silence, then as three drops fell, she started to whisper in Gaelic. Her accent, pronounciation, and syntax were all much better than mine. And I realized what my mother was doing.

She was working magic of the blood. Blood is, for the most part, one of the more powerful magical substances. However, it took a lot of control  to work into something viable. It would seem that my mother had not been slacking in her retirement from demon hunting. She had bound the circle to her own soul. I could barely believe it.

It made a lot of sense. She wouldn’t have to focus much on the circle, instead just siphon power into it, a little constrant trickle. It was something I couldn’t even think of doing.

“Crap on a cracker….” I whispered, watching as a orange-gold shimmer of light danced around Abby and Kenzie.

Abby reached out a hand to touch the curtain of light, but Kenzie put her hand on her daughter’s. “Don’t, Abby. You’ll break the circle.”

Lisha blinked her eyes a few time, snapping from her focus, then directed her gaze at me. “So, kiddo, let’s kick some ass.”

The power had gone out four minutes before, and the sobbing had started two minutes later, following the same pattern as the demon’s last attack. but this time we were prepared. I sat in the living room with my mother, holding Kenzie’s shotgun while my mother fingered a pair of runic talismans, leaning on a wall.

“You don’t call much.” She whispered to me.

I groaned. “Mom, now?”

“Yes, now.” She sighed, whispering a little phrase under her breath. Candles flickered to life. “Jake, I worry about you.”

“I know what I’m doing.” I said. “I’ve been training for the past few years, and I’ve survived everything that I’ve encountered.

“Not what I was talking about, dude.” In the dim light of the candles, she looked at me. Her dark gaze fixed on my eyes. “I heard about Theresa.”

I felt like hitting my head against the wall. In the insanity that is my life, Theresa had been a nice, stabilizing feature. She was beautiful, intelligent, and a sex demon.

Literally. “Listen, Mom, it just didn’t work out in the end…”

“You were with a demon.” She hissed. “A Red Angel.”

“I’m lonely.” I snapped back. “It’s not exactly like I have a ton of choices in life. I don’t want a woman stuffed into a refrigerator just because she was dating me. Theresa…she was safe.”

“Safe?” She sighed. “Dude…” Our conversation was cut short by Abby’s little scream.

“Shit!” Lisha said, and we both rushed towards the kitchen.

The demon was scratching at the curtain of light. However, it was repelled, and its sobs grew louder. Mom had done her magic right. It was holding off the demon perfectly. In the light emanating from the protective circle, I could finally see what La llarona look like up close.

She looked like what might have once been a beautiful woman. What had once been pale skin had simply devolved into a sickly shade of gray. Dark hair, nearly black, hung in long tatters, with patches missing. And every single one of her nails had turned into each their own little talon.

Immediately, I dropped the shotgun, hissing a spell as I slammed my hands together. I shoved as much energy I could at the thing. A concussive force shuddered forward, slamming back against the Walker. It stumbled back a few feet, screeching in agony. Damn, the thing was tough. I’d cranked it to eleven, and with enough force to kill most other things.

“Jake!” My mother called. “Holy water in the bottle on the counter!” As I beat a retreat back towards the counter, I watched as Lisha picked up a broomstick with one hand. “Bring it, bitch.” She growled, taunting the demon.

It charged, and my mom side-stepped it, whacking the demon with the handle of the broom. But the demon caught on fast. It spun around, slashing at Lisha with her long nails. Gashes ripped across her neck, and she let out a little gasp. I found the bottle on the counter, yelling. “Oy, hag!” I unscrewed the top, tossing the holy water at it.

It splashed over the demon, burning at her tattered black dress. White flames erupted all across her, and she screeched. But it wasn’t enough. She wheeled, still on holy fire, tackling me next. Her attacks with ferocious, and I had no way to stop them. I roared in agony, feeling the monster actually take a bite into my skin.

Now, witch, you die. The creature said.

“Fat chance, bitch.” I heard my mother hiss. The demon lifted off of me, tearing at skin as it was forced from my body. She was in the air, actually floating. I looked around, and saw, in the faint light of the circle, my mother. She was holding the shotgun that I had dropped, sitting with her legs folded. “Get away from my son.” The blast of the shotgun rang out, and the slugs, a silver-lead mix, caused little miniature burns to spread across the demon’s skin. Fire started to consume the creature, as if burning it from the inside out. The thing turned to ash on the floor.

We all sat on the floor, quiet for a long moment.

“I’m hungry now.” Abby grumbled. “When’s lunch?”

For some reason, Kenzie and I always share a room at the hospital when we’re both injured. It’s been like this since we first met when she was still a cop in New York. It’s one of those weird coincidences.

“Kenzie, can you take a look at something?” I asked. I held up my recovering arm to Kenzie. The wounds had turned into scars rather quickly. Thank whoever was up there for modern medicine.

“Sure,” Kenzie, rolled over onto her side, taking a look at the scars. “Jake, is that a…”

I nodded. “The scar. It’s a tear.”

“Shit…” She whispered. “She marked you?”

“I think so. But what it means…”

“Means the bitch wants revenge.” She nodded. Kenzie sighed. “But it’ll be a while before she can get a new corporeal form.”

I thought about that. Great, another thing trying to kill me. I had lived for so long running from the big nasties, I wondered when it would be time to just take a stand. Or would it end with me, lying in some gutter somewhere, dead?

My wonderings were broken, thankfully, by family. Kennzie’s husband, Patrick, came in with Abby on his shoulders. “Hey, love.” Patrick said in his lilting Irish accent. “I found this little tyke outside, said she wanted to see you.” I watched as Kenzie held out her arms, and Patrick placed his daughter in his wife’s arms. I smirked a little, knowing I’d done what I’d had to. I’d kept someone safe. That was my job.

Hey, I guess working Saturdays aren’t too bad.