Page 8 of Wicked Magik

Leo chanted words that sounded like Latin from the days I homeschooled. The words I recognized sounded like he was calling upon demons to rise and bring back a spirit from the dead. It wasn’t calling for the man’s spirit specifically, though, it was just calling foraspirit.

Was I wrong? Was it part of this enchantment?

I rose slowly, feeling an overwhelming wrong feeling about the entire thing. I needed to stop this.

That was when his voice erupted, booming and commanding, as if the very air bent to his will. The wind roared around us, a furious tempest swirling around him, amplifying his power. It howled and raged until it suddenly collapsed with a deafening silence around the lifeless form. The leaves crashed to the ground like thunder.

I sat back in the bushes to watch and Leo dropped the book at his side.

“Shit,” he spat.

The surrounding men looked on in confusion.

“Something is wrong.” He went over to the cage and kicked it. The wolf inside growled and snapped at the sudden jostle of the cage. “This wolf should have died.”

Mr. Marchant looked from the human body to the animal and rubbed his chin. “Animal life for animal life. Perhaps you need a human life for human life?”

As Leo looked down at the cage a menacing grin spread across his face. The two men that were waiting for their boss’s body to rise looked at one another and crossed their arms.

The tension rose.

Mr. Marchant and Leo were both stupid.

“Father, I believe you might be onto something.”

One man pulled out a gun and pointed it at Mr. Marchant. Marchant raised his hands and shook his head. “Wait!”

A rope was brought out from a bag and Mr. Marchant was tied quickly. It was all happening so fast, I barely believed it. My gasps were quickly becoming sobs at the shock of it all.

They were going to kill him.

They were going to kill a person right in front of me. They couldn’t do this!

Everyone was in position, ready to partake of the spell and the wind blew once again. My hair flipped around my face and woke me from my stupor.

Those words in Latin were spouted about bringing forth a spirit and I grit my teeth. There was nothing said about bringing Blackstone’s spirit. If my translation was correct, it would be a dark entity that would take over the body. We wouldn’t know who would inhabit it.

I jumped over the hedge and ran toward Mr. Marchant. He was trying to wiggle free as the wind rose around us. The moon shone down on us but more mist and fog surrounded the circle.

I knew I couldn’t untie the man, he was twice my size, so I began pulling, dragging him away from the circle to break it. I kicked in on the circle, to break the white lines, break whatever incantation there was.

I didn't know anything about magic but I would do my damndest to try.

Mr. Marchant’s eyes widened when he saw me, and I pulled. He groaned when he fell over and the wind rose around us.

Leo’s voice rose and the other men saw us struggle. They took a step toward us but a loud roar came from deep within the forest.

Thunderous footsteps shook the ground, the wind no longer blew, and Leo stopped the incantation. The body was still laid on the ground while the vibrations of the earth turned into mighty tremors.

The ferocious snarls and the violent snapping of branches made my heart seize in terror. I halted abruptly, breathless from dragging Mr. Marchant, and whipped around to face the cacophony of chaos, dread flooding my veins.

And oh my gods, I had never seen anything like this creature in my life.

There it was, a massive, half-petrified, half-skull-like head of a bull. Its imposing horns, far from evoking the typical image of a bull. It reminded me instead of a demon conjured from the depths of hell.

These horns were long and ridged, arching gracefully over the back of its head before curving sharply at the tips. As I stood transfixed, its nostrils exhaling plumes of steam that billowed into the cold air. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, it unfurled its long, serpentine tongue, winding it languidly around its mouth and curling it against its snout before retracting it back into the cavernous darkness of its maw.

The dense, black fur draped over his shoulders made him look larger, exaggerating his already considerable size. Yet, this visual trickery was hardly necessary, as his broad, well-muscled torso was far from ordinary.