“I recently found a lead that might help in the search for my brother, William “Wills” Forte. A journal he had written, along with a cassette that was filled with what can only be described as very unusual field recordings.
Kirk Hammett has agreed to quickly transpose the less complex portions of the cassette while keeping the integrity of the original field recordings intact. These you can play or loop alongside the reading of each part, to create the appropriate mood for these journal entries.
We still advise you take precautions before listening to the recordings.” – Abigail Forte
PART SIX : Lost in the Fire Lands
Since we’re getting close to the ending, at least this ending, I’ll take you back to the beginning. That dark shape, remember? Made of shadows and pretending to be human. By the way, it’s still hovering in the doorway, still trying to convince me of things I do not want.
~ Wills, you can still join us ~
I haven’t slept since I started writing this.
According to the cracked cheap alarm clock by the bed it’s three am, and I’ve realized two things. First, Corso underestimated who he was dealing with. This guitar thing is tearing me apart, but it’s still just an addiction. I’ve gone through worse addictions and made it out alive. This demon has its claws in my soul, but Cristopher had my heart, and I’m not letting some guitar shaped boogeyman define my destiny. It’s going to be a struggle though; Hell may seem like a horrible concept, but if I don’t get that guitar back, I’m going to end up in a place that’s much worse than hell. But you want to know how I got here.
I’ve been hiding out in this small cabin in the mountains by Eldridge, California, for a couple of weeks now. I’ve also been trying to go cold turkey before I start out again. It’s hard, we’re all healing, but these wounds burn deep. Wounds from that hellish confrontation outside of Las Vegas when we were surrounded by demons in the Valley of Fire.
****
It was like a scene out of some old Western film, riding into the canyon at sunset, but instead of horses kicking up the dust in some slow-motion sequence, it was an old beige 1979 Dodge.
We had no idea what we were looking for, but I could feel the pain I had earlier building, in my gut clenching and twisting. As we passed a large grouping of the colorful sandstone formations the pain grew unbearable. “Stop! Here.” I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but as Hawkes pulled over to the side of the dusty road, I managed to get out. Sara and the Detective followed me as I slightly stumbled towards the wall of rock. The air was still. It was that time of the day when the sun’s golden rays hit the cliffs of rock and red sandstone, painting a picture of a world on fire. Then the pain hit again, and I fell, clutching my stomach.
I heard Sara cry out, and Detective Hawkes knelt in front of me, a look of concern flashing across his face as he put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. “I felt that too, it’s here.” Sara said, standing behind me. “Where?” Detective Hawkes asked, standing to turn in a tight circle.
The glint of sun catching on something metallic in the face of the rock wall caught my eye, a line of mineral deposit cutting close to the surface, but the shape was not random. It was a doorway made up of thin silvered lines of a mineral ore interspersed among the layers of gleaming red stone.
“There.” I pointed.
Detective Hawkes and Sara stood next to me, following my point, but neither of them seemed to see what I saw.
I approached the design, traced it with my finger, “It’s like a door, carved into the sandstone.”
I looked back. Detective Hawkes shrugged and shook his head. Sara came closer and put her hands on the stone.
“I feel something, but I don’t see what you’re seeing.”
Hit by another burst of pain, I fell to my knees, and that’s when I saw the engraving at the foot of the cliff.
“Aqua regia.” I whispered, tracing the outline with my finger, remembering Octavia scratching the same shape on the back of the guitar.
“What did you say?” Sara asked, startled.
“There’s a symbol here. It matches one on the back of the guitar.” I told her.
She got a pen and notebook from Detective Hawkes and scribbled something on the paper.
She held it up to me and I nodded, “Same symbol. You really can’t see it?”
“It’s alchemical, hidden to most of us. You can probably see it because of the connection you have with the guitar.”
I wished Octavia was with us. “So what does it mean?” I asked Sara.
“It means we need to knock on the door.” She drew another symbol on the paper. And handed me a rock shard from the ground at her feet. “Draw this in front of you, the symbol for mercury.”
It was a circle, with a cross underneath and what looked like horns above.
As soon as I finished scratching it in the rock, the outlined doorway grew brighter and the silvery mineral in the rock started to melt away, turning to a wave of sand that crashed at our feet. We were standing at the entrance to a cave built into the sandstone formation. The detective started forwards, pushing ahead of me.
“Hawkes!” I shouted, “It’s a trap.”
“No kidding.” Detective Hawkes grumbled, pushing past me while pulling a gun out from under his jacket.
I followed him past the edge of the wall. It felt like the air became suddenly thicker, harder to breath and hotter. It was like walking out of the desert into a sauna, and it smelled of sulfur. So strong that all three of us covered our noses with the backs of our hands. In the back of my mind, I noticed that the pain, the hunger, the claws that had been tearing at me almost consistently for the past few days, had lessened. I had a feeling that meant I was close enough to the guitar and that it no longer felt the need to pull me. We were attached. It felt like the first hit of heroin after a month without. Like chasing the dragon all over again.
I was so distracted by the absence of pain that I failed to notice the figure at the far end of the cavern. Hawkes saw her first.
“Abbie!” I yelled out, as Hawkes ran towards her.
She was standing, head down, arms behind her back, as if she had been tied to an invisible post. I ran, following Sara and the detective towards Abbie.
“Wait!” Sara cried out, “The ground!” She stopped, pointing towards Abbie’s feet.
She was standing inside a circle of symbols carved into the earth. Symbols like the ones from outside. I stopped, but Hawkes didn’t. As he went to pull her out, he screamed and stumbled backwards. His jacket burst into flames, and he quickly dropped to the ground to extinguish it in the dirt. Woken to action, Sara and I helped him up, made sure he was okay, and I turned to Abbie who was looking up at us groggily. She looked slightly drugged.
“Abbie. Are you okay?” I asked, not wanting to get too close to the circle.
“I’m not hurt, but I don’t think I’m okay. Are you?” She said, her voice quavering. She had her arms in front of her now, but she was still trapped within the enchanted circle.
“I’ve been better.” I looked around. “Where are the others?”
“Dad…” she sobbed, stopped, started again, “Dad went down there,” she pointed towards a pathway off to her left.
Another cave entrance that I hadn’t even noticed before. It twisted into shadow.
“Then what?” I asked.
“Then two others passed by, following. I don’t think he knew they were there, but I’m pretty sure he knew they were coming. They both looked at me but didn’t say anything. One of them stuck out its tongue, it was so long, Wills, it tried to lick me.”
Abbie’s face held a look of disgust, and she shuddered at the memory. “I think it was the one Octavia called Corso, the one with blue hair, right?”
I looked over at Hawkes, “I don’t think that gun is going to help much.”
“Wills?” Abbie asked. “He was going to kill me. I’m sure of it. But then he said you would be better. I just need you to get me out of here and then we can leave.”
“It’s not that simple, Abbie. He has the guitar, and if he figures out the right way to play it, that guitar is going to kill me. Even if it doesn’t, I can’t let him have the power that’s in that guitar. It’s too dangerous. I will die before I let that happen.”
“Wills … what happened to him?”
“I don’t know for sure, but whatever it is, I’m not going to let it happen to either one of us.” I said. “And Octavia? I remember that vile thing. It took her, and Mag.”
“I don’t know,” Abbie paused, her voice heavy with sadness, “He grabbed me, and I don’t know what happened after that. You were out, the blackness went into the guitar, and that’s all I remember. When I came to, I was here, and I don’t know how to get out.”
Sara, meanwhile, had been slowly walking around Abbie, studying the symbols on the ground.
“I think I get it.” She said, standing. “Abbie is surrounded by two different levels of alchemical symbols. The inner ring, where Hawkes got burned, are the elements. He came in on the fire side. Going from there, clockwise, you have water, air, and earth. Not sure what defenses those areas will have, but I’m sure they’re all as potent as the fire.”
“What’s on the other ring?” Abbie asked.
Sara walked around the circle again, “Those are all different compounds, but I’m not sure what they mean. I know one is silver, another is sulfur. Then there are a few different metals.”
“And that’s the same one I saw outside,” I said, pointing to the aqua regia.
“Of course, that’s right. And that means that one,” Sara pointed to a similar shape, “is aqua fortis. There should be a third water symbol outside of the circle. Check near the entrance to the cave.”
Hawkes nodded, and moved towards the sandstone wall, eyes on the ground in front of him.
“Found it!” We stood over the small V shaped carving.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Now we work the magic.” Sara said, smiling for the first time since we’d met.
Using the heel of her right foot, she sketched a circle around the aqua vitae symbol and then crossed that with two straight lines, each leading to the edge of the circle around Abbie. One went to the regia, the other to the fortis.
“I hope this works…” Sara said, then knelt to draw a symbol over each line. “Purify,” she whispered, “and dissolve.”
The circle in the ground flashed so bright we all had to shield our eyes, and then it was gone, and Abbie fell into my arms.
“You need to go back out to the car.” I said.
“No, I can’t. Not now. We go together, we fight our father together.”
“Damn it…” I started.
Abbie stood tall and shut me up with a look. I knew that look well. It was fight time.
“Right.” Hawkes looked at us, a grim expression on his face. “I hate to be ‘that guy’, but do we have any weapons that might actually work here? I’m guessing my gun won’t stand a chance in hell of hurting a demon, right?”
“I have the gris-gris bag my sister gave me.” I said, “It’s not a weapon, but it’s powerful. I’m pretty sure without it I’d have been suffering a lot more from the guitar withdrawals. Abbie should hold on to it for now. I have a feeling the guitar doesn’t want me dead quite yet.”
Sara put her hand up to the necklace around her neck and took it off. She handed two little charms to each of us. “These aren’t weapons either, but they will help protect us. A little.”
“Great. A useless gun, a bag of magic leaves, and some silver trinkets. Demons gonna be tremblin’.” The Detective grumbled and started walking towards the shadowed cave entrance.
“Is he always like this?” I ask Sara. She nods.
****
We must have been walking for fifteen or twenty minutes through the darkness, occasionally hit with a sparkle of light from silver veins running along the rough corridor. Then we heard the sound and saw a flicker of light, like a flame coming from up ahead. It was the guitar; I recognized the tone immediately. A soft strum, but it reverberated right through me.
Cautiously, we turned down a last tight bend in the cave and found ourselves looking down into a huge cavern, sunken down about six feet below the opening we stood in. There was a sharp cracking sound, like rocks breaking, and I almost shouted in fright as suddenly my father stood in front of me with a huge grin on his face. I stared at him, and he didn’t blink or look away, just kept grinning. He looked even younger than the last time I’d seen him. Then the smile vanished as he stepped backwards into the cavern, beckoning for us to follow.
“I knew we’d get the family reunion I always wanted.” He grinned.
Behind him, on the floor of the cavern, Corso paced in a circle, strumming the guitar softly. He stopped playing for a second to raise his hand in a backwards wave but didn’t stop and fell back into his walk and strum rhythm.
My father moved swiftly down towards Corso, and then someone else moved past me. Detective Hawkes with his gun out, pointing it down towards Corso.
“Don’t…” I started, but he wasn’t listening.
He fired twice as Corso circled back towards us. Corso jerked backwards, hit in the chest, and then stopped in his tracks. He slowly raised his head to look at us, and then started laughing.
“Well, good evening to you, friends! Join us!” He called out.
My father now standing next to him. Hawkes looked at the gun, then back at Corso.
“Damn. Well, I had to try.”
“Wait,” Abbie whispered. “Did he say … us?”
“Yeah. He did. This is not going to be good.” I responded, taking a few steps forward and peering down into the cavern.
There was a spiral carved into the ground, covered with alchemical symbols and strange looking letters. Like an alphabet of the damned spelling out our destruction.
“Aramaic.” Sara whispered. “Great.”
I returned, more concerned with what was at the center of the spiral.
It was Mael.
Bound by the same invisible force that had held Abbie, but, I guessed, far stronger. His eyes were closed, his head was thrown back, his arms crossed in front of him. And behind him a figure stood in the shadows, watching the proceedings. I didn’t recognize him, but I was pretty sure I knew who it was. He noticed, or possibly felt, my gaze upon him and stepped forwards into the light. His jet-black hair was a stylized mess and seemingly unaffected by the heat, he was wearing a perfectly fitted red velvet tuxedo blazer over a black buttoned shirt. He tilted his head slightly and then shot a dazzling smile towards us.
“Mister Forte, so glad you could join us. I am Mister Velvét, but please. Call me Harry.”
I ignored him and turned my attention to Corso. “What happened to Octavia?”
Corso stopped and turned to face us. “Oh, my dear little mortal, why such concern for someone who has no soul? She went home to her own little private hell. Ha! Soon, I’m sure, where you’ll all be joining her in the endless, eternal, dark pits of her own suffering.”
He spun on his heels to face Mael. His back to us. “But now that we’re all here, let the performance begin.”
“Too bad these aren’t silver bullets.” Detective Hawkes mumbled.
“Silver is for Werewolves, not demons.” I replied.
“Wait,” Sara stared at us, “What about Iron? And Salt, right? I mean, I’ve never actually tried to kill a demon before, but it’s supposed to be like cold iron and salt. There’s enough material in this cave to create an arsenal of ammunition. I just need the right symbols, and a little time.”
Corso had moved back to stand beside Harry, behind Mael, who remained completely unresponsive. Harry nodded, and Corso handed him the guitar. I could see Harry step back, as if shocked, but he held the instrument tight.
“What’s he doing?” Abbie asked. “Corso can’t play the guitar the way it needs to be played. Not for this.”
I started to comprehend what was going on. “Only a human player can invoke the power in the guitar, and the cost is greater than what my dad’s willing to pay. That’s why they got Harry to do it.”
“But won’t it do to him what it did to you, and your father?” Sara asked.
“Yes. But some people think they can handle the power… the addiction.” I stare at my hands, shaking violently. I can feel the guitar pulling at me. “But I know some people can’t.”
I looked at Sara, “You make your weapons, I’ll buy you some time.”
Before anyone could object, I slid down the side of the cavern and made my way towards the spiral. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be stopped, and I was right. My father and Corso, and behind them, Harry Velvét, stood and silently watched me. I was supposed to be there. They wanted me there. I was a part of their madness. Then I realized that they’d lured me here to complete their depraved act, using the guitar to beckon me forward.
As I moved closer, I was greeted by a heated wind of foul-smelling wind. It moved around me, following the lines engraved in the red sandstone floor. I almost threw up but held steady. My eyes were watering a little, but once I pushed through the wind it was calm on the other side.
“Are you sure your sister won’t join us?” my father asked. I looked back at the entrance of the cavern. It was about forty feet away above a fifteen-foot curve that seemed a lot steeper than it had when I came down. Abbie and the Detective stood, watching, but there was no sign of Sara.
“Leave her out of this. I’m here. You don’t need her.”
“No, I suppose I don’t anymore.” He turned away from me and gestured for the guitar.
Harry walked over, carrying it gently. Not like it was delicate, but like it was painful. Harry handed it to the demon.
Now it felt like my head was on fire and about to explode, “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to play it, but I still get it when you’re done, right Corso?”
“You will get what you paid for, human.” Corso grinned, grabbed the guitar, and handed it to me.
I can’t even begin to describe the ecstatic shock that coursed through my entire body when my fingers wrapped around the neck of that instrument. A feeling of falling through dark grey clouds. Smiling, watching me bliss out in the damnable energy of the guitar, Corso moved to the back of the cavern where there was a grouping of stalagmites that formed a sort of seat, almost a throne. Corso took a seat on it, ruler of his own little empty corner of hell.
“Play us a song, human.” He bellowed dramatically, then belched some blue fluid.
I held the guitar, still on a high from the dark surge I felt flowing through me. I wondered if the gris-gris bag was doing anything to diminish what I felt, or if it was doing nothing, because this felt so good. I felt untouchable, but I knew I had to be clever about this.
“The Maelstrum?” I called back.
Corso looked pleased. “You remembered. But no, not yet. I’ll show that soon. Just play what the guitar shows you.”
I realized now I didn’t have a choice. I needed to play along until I knew how to get us all out. So play I did. I start with just a simple rhythm in the key of E, letting the sound and tone guide me. I close my eyes, feel the chords push out, hear the melody take shape. I hit a b5 chord, I feel the ground shake. I don’t stop playing, but my eyes flash open and meet Corso’s.
“They’re coming.” Corso gleefully exclaims.
I see Mael’s head move slightly, but his eyes remain closed. Harry Velvét steps to the side, looking a little less pleased than he had been.
“Corso?” He looks at his blue-haired companion. “What is this?”
“One little cursed guitar isn’t quite enough for this particular exorcism.” Corso deadpans, and while remaining seated he lifts his hands up to start chanting along to the rhythm I couldn’t stop playing.
With each downstroke I hit, another strange syllable was uttered, and with every utterance a small crack appears in the spiraling circle surrounding Mael. And out of each crack a shadow starts to drip upwards. A slow steady stream of nightmare black droplets hitting the rock ceiling to form quivering mounds of shapeless onyx. Soon the vaulted ceiling is circled by a gathering of obsidian stalactites made from some kind of demonic sludge. Then those shapes slowly elongate until a circle of shadows, slightly humanoid in shape surround Mael.
As I played the shapes reverberated and responded with the notes in different tones. Dark ominous tones that caused cold shivers to run down my arms and chest while beads of sweat formed to run down my face and neck.
Corso let out a delighted laugh, “Ha! Look, it’s the rest of your band!”
Suddenly he stood up, making a grand gesture with his arms above his head, “Strike up one for the band! Ladies and gents, the Maelstrum can now begin!”
As the tones circled around the cavern, a wind picked up behind them. A wind that carried the stench of rot and death with it. A wind that pushed the notes together into some stygian melody. The dark shapes swayed and pulsated. I watched, unable to stop my playing, as my father danced around them, his face shining in some twisted childlike glee. Corso, seated again, leaned forwards, watching the proceedings, and Mael slowly opened his eyes, and what he saw must have evidently struck a chord of terror deep within him, as his mouth opened up to let out a scream that cut through all the sounds like a sonic knife edge.
A scream that stopped everything except for the sound of the guitar I held. I stepped closer, still playing. The shadows moved and gathered around me, a tightening circle. Corso stood on his stone throne and shouted out another string of words that seemed to push the shadows into a frenzy, and the thick noise started again, more dissonant and more frenzied. Mael looked up at me, his eyes burning red, dripping black tears.
“Stop this.” He whispered. “I beg of you, human, before it’s too late.”
“I can’t.” I replied.
“Then you will burn with us all.” Mael uttered with defeat, his head falling, his body slumping forwards, but still held upright by some invisible force.
Behind him and in front of me, Corso yelled unintelligible blasphemies into the void.
My father echoed his shouts as he jumped up and down in front of the blue haired demon. A demon, I thought, gone mad. I saw out of the corner of my eye a movement and turned to see Harry Velvét scrambling up to the cave opening. I shouted his name, and he turned to look at me before pushing past Abbie and Detective Hawkes.
“I didn’t sign up for this, my dear boy. Drop me a line if you make it out!” And then he was gone. “Hawkes!” I shouted, “You should go too! Take Abbie, get out now!”
The detective started to shout something back, but I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear anything other than my guitar, hitting a melody of torture and delight. I looked down, my fingers were raw and bleeding, but they never stopped playing.
“This is it!” Corso shouted, moving towards me, through the swirl of sound. The black shapes were moving together, their cacophony doubling in intensity, long sinewy tendrils stretching out towards Mael.
And I had found myself standing in the thick of it all, watching, playing, as that horrible but familiar thing started to move out from the guitar. The lower E string started to unravel, my fingers still plucking around it. The shadow and the string started to twine together and twisted, it cut through the air and curled around Mael’s neck. Shining silver and cutting into flesh. The shapes pushed in, slowly becoming one mass of darkness that moved around me. Mael’s eyes flashed open again, as the wire pulled against his throat. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. And then a sharp crack of thunder broke through the howling feedback, echoing through the cavern.
Both Corso and I turned to face the source of the sound and saw Detective Hawkes standing at the base of the cave wall with my sister and Sara beside him. His gun pointed straight at us.
“Stop this now, Corso.” Detective Hawkes shouted.
“That’s still not going to do you any good, human. Your weapon is useless, remember?”
“It was useless.” The detective smiled and pulled the trigger.
The bullet flew straight towards us, whistling past my ear, and embedded itself in Corso’s forehead. Corso started to smile, but then stopped. His smile faded, his face took on a look of confusion, then as he put a hand to his head, a finger touching the hole the bullet had made, a look of fear and pain. Suddenly his skin changed to the same color as his hair.
“What did you do?” He screeched, black ooze pushing out of the hole and around his finger. Dripping down into his eyes. “Your bullets can’t hurt me! What is this!”
Sara took a step forward, as the detective raised the gun again. “They can if they’ve been transmuted into pure iron, laced with salt.”
Corso’s eyes opened wide with incredulity and the Detective fired again. This time the bullet hit Corso in the left shoulder, and he spun around backwards before hitting the ground. He sat up, fast, and started screaming again, the same strange language, but the words were sharper, harsher. Staccato syllables coming out to stir up the shadows again.
I had managed to stop playing the guitar, as if a spell had been broken when the bullet had buried itself into the demon’s head. My fingers were raw and bloodied, and I felt like I’d just run a marathon. And then I felt the shadows grab me. Wrapping around me and pulling me towards Corso. Mael was hurt, but struggling, trying to break the ties that bound him. The Detective, along with Sara and my sister, were hidden from view, obstructed by a pulsating inky wall that rose almost to the ceiling. Corso stood now, one arm pointing up, the other towards me. The sound was unbearable.
I pushed my hands against my ears, but it made no difference. It was all around, and inside me. It sounded like a death scream. The foul curse of a thing in the guitar was being pulled out, and I could sense that it was against its own will.
Corso wasn’t trying to just destroy Mael, he was trying to tear apart the Asag as well. And at this point I knew that if he succeeded, I’d die as well … as would my father.
“Samuel!” I shouted into the chaos, hoping he’d hear, praying he’d listen. “If Corso gets the guitar, we’re both dead. I know you don’t care about us, but are you willing to die for this?”
I don’t know if my words got out past the noise; I was shaking as if I was being electrocuted, the guitar becoming a conduit between my soul, the demon inside, and whatever Corso was doing to pull it out. And then I saw her, Octavia.
I saw her arms first, coming out of the black shadows, pulling herself out as if she had been swallowed by a pit of living tar and had to claw her way to the surface. Then her head, hair plastered against her face, followed by shoulders, waist, hips, until finally she stood before me, naked, dripping with that inklike ooze.
“Miss me?” She quipped, then without waiting for a response, she turned abruptly, her arm swinging swordlike through the murky black wall behind her, splitting it in two.
It fell like a dropped water balloon, splattering black liquid across the rocky floor. I heard a scream then, and it was my father. I could see him now that the wall of shadows had been broken. He was hanging on to Corso’s neck, trying to strangle him, or stop him from his incantations, but a shadow figure had pierced through his side, moving between his ribs and then down around his legs. And unlike the demons, my father still bled red. It was everywhere.
I didn’t have the strength to do anything other than take a step towards them, and then fall to my knees. Corso pulled away from my father, who collapsed like a rag doll. Drained of blood and life. The demon shadow began slowly sucking him up while Corso started moving slowly towards me. I could tell he was in pain, but his hatred was stronger. His eyes were glowing blue.
“You pitiful waste of flesh. How dare you get in my way. I will make you suffer for an eternity, and then I will make you suffer it all over again.” He started to rise, bringing all his strength to bear. His body elongating, his arms twisting out.
He reached out for Octavia, grabbed her, and flung her aside, almost as an afterthought, while moving closer to me. She hit the side of the cavern and dropped to the ground. I saw her struggle to get to her feet again, and as she did, her face started to morph into a strange shape. But before I could figure out what was happening, I heard a shout behind me.
“Wills, heads up!” It was my sister’s voice.
I turned and saw the detective throw his firearm toward me in an underhanded arc. I caught the gun, and without any hesitation I swiveled back towards Corso and pulled the trigger. The iron bullet hit Corso dead center in the chest. He screamed in pain, yelled in anger, and began tearing away at his body in agonized frustration.
He tore at his hair, pulling out chunks of the blue along with portions of his flesh underneath. It was like he was ripping a mask off, but the features under it were even more hideous. Knotted and bloody and pulsating mounds of blue bone mixed with flesh. The black winged shape that had been Octavia swooped towards him and tore at his already flayed flesh with razor talons. He screamed and tore back, and they both started twisting around and into each other while around us the thick dark waves of sound grew louder, pulsating and shaking the very ground we stood on.
I felt it inside me, controlling me, pushing, pulling, squeezing, and caressing. Not my body but my very soul. The shadows started to merge with my blood, the sound filled my veins, the music slid against my mind, wrapping around my spine. And I felt that darkness stronger than anything I’d ever felt before. Deeper than drugs, deeper than love. I was being made one with oblivion.
The dark shape came out of the guitar, but it was coming out of me as well. It slid and twisted and undulated towards Corso, who was now staggering around the cavern, a mess of alternating flesh. The blue human slabs being torn from his body and the shuddering bruised purple and blue mass that lay underneath. I felt everything leave me, and struggled to hold on to consciousness, but my legs faltered and gave way.
As I collapsed and fell forward the guitar fell out of my hands, into the dirt. At that moment there was another sharp thunderclap, and lightning that glowed red shot from the center of the cavern up into the ceiling, shaking rocks and sharp stalactites loose. It sounded as if the entire cave they were in was going to split in two. The walls shook and a rumble started filling the cavern as Mael, who had freed himself from whatever alchemical spells had bound him, appeared before me, bent down, and picked up the guitar.
I tried to stand, but all I could manage was to kneel, and shout out towards my sister and the others to get out. I don’t know if they heard me. I hoped they had. But Mael, with a smile, hit a chord on the guitar. A chord I couldn’t name if I tried. The tone tore through my mind, and I felt as if my grasp on reality was being torn apart. Note by note. My eyes blurred, my vision turning into a white tunnel, and all I could see was the guitar in front of me, being played by twisted fingers.
“Wills… get … Gris-Gris…” I heard a voice, those words, faint as if from a dream.
“What?” I mumbled Louder now,
“Get rid of the Gris-Gris!” It was Octavia, coming towards me, coming for Mael.
I shook my head, not understanding. Get rid of what protected me?
“Do it!” Octavia was upon us now, her talons driving into Mael’s shoulders.
With what little strength I had left, I pulled the small bag out of my pocket and tossed it aside. As I did so, Octavia shook Mael while lifting him up. The guitar fell from his grip and to the ground. Behind him I could see what was left of Corso struggling in dirt that had been turned into mud by the blood from my father.
The bag hit the ground, and almost instantly, two charcoal shadows slid through the guitar and pushed between my lips, down my throat. I choked and gagged, trying to force breath around the thickness of the shadow that was filling me up. The white tunnel shifted to red, and I stood, knowing that I was feeling the Asag taking place within me, and within the guitar. Connecting us. Allowing me to stand and play once more.
I picked the guitar up. My sister, along with Sara and the detective were nowhere in sight, and I could only hope they had made it out. And then I played.
The black shadows swayed and burned with midnight fire. I couldn’t tell if I was breathing air or shadow, but it didn’t matter. I’d never been able to make sounds like this before. Chords formed using configurations I didn’t know my fingers could grip, microtones that I didn’t know existed, let alone that could be played on this instrument. I created a dark world with the music, and the demon recreated that world within me. I was a cyclone of sound, pulling all that remained around me within to the now shimmering and pulsating sound hole of the guitar. The frets felt like razors on my already bleeding fingers, but it felt fantastic. The pain fueled the song, and the song ate the world. Corso was devoured, Mael shrieked, I drowned in the pain. Then silence.
****
Hours, possibly days, later, my eyes opened. It was dark, but I could tell that I was in a small room, lying in a bed. I stood up, still dressed, and walked shakily towards the door. I seemed to be alone, and as I stepped out; I was hit by a vision of night. I was standing in front of a small cabin, surrounded by trees. The air was cool and above me I saw nothing but the night sky and a million stars. No cave, no shadows, no screaming. No sound at all.
“You’re up.” A familiar voice said. I turned to see Octavia sitting in a chair on the porch.
“What happened? Where am I?” I ask, “What day is it?”
“You’ve been out for a few days, but you’re safe. We’re in California. Eldridge, to be exact. After you, and the Asag, of course, managed to take Mael down, I got you out of the caves. Your sister and the other two mortals were waiting. We put the Gris-Gris back in your pocket, weaved some alchemical invocations to help strengthen your psyche and your soul, and brought you here to recuperate.” Octavia explained. “Your friends will be back soon; they’ve gone to get some supplies in the town.” “The guitar?” I ask.
Octavia looked at me for a few seconds before speaking, “Harry Velvét was also waiting. We made a deal. Along with a very nice sum of money … you won’t have to worry about your finances for a while … he also gave us a powerful Tibetan amulet crafted from silver and bronze. That allowed us to stave off the demonic infection, leaving you strong enough to continue without the guitar.”
I stared at her, letting the words sink in. “You sold the guitar? You saved me? But Lillian…” I started. “Stop.” Octavia held a hand up. “It was my choice. You have not lost the guitar, and the guitar no longer controls you. You are still connected to it, as your father was, but hopefully you will not turn out like him, and be able to keep and maintain the power without corruption. It doesn’t matter where the guitar is, the Asag is part of it, and still part of you. Close your eyes, feel it, hear it, but never listen to it.”
“I feel like my heart is breaking because perhaps yours can’t.” I take a deep breath, trying to do as she says.
I sense the darkness in the center of my chest. It curls around, pushes against my heart, pulls at my arms. It feels like needles just under my skin but needles I can handle.
I open my eyes and see a shadow behind Octavia, but it’s not hers. She sees my gaze shift, turns, but she can’t see what I see. Suddenly a black slab of tar melts and opens. I look, and it’s the Asag, but it’s also my father. It’s a murky portal into a demonic pit, and it wants me to dive in. But Octavia was right, it wasn’t pulling like it used to. It feels somehow muted. I can resist. I can fight. I can keep it in the abyss where it belongs.
****
Now, Detective Hawkes and Sara have gone back to the east coast, but they’ve promised to keep in touch. Sara said she’ll try to find if there is a way to separate me from the demon without destroying me. Corso and Mael are, as far as I know, somewhere within the Asag’s endless chasm of existence. Mag, Octavia tells me, is alive and recovering in some nightmarish purgatory, and loves it.
My sister is staying with me for another week or two, and it feels right, this family connection. And then there’s Octavia. I’ve finally realized that I can fix this. I don’t need the guitar, but I still feel it, and I think I know how to reunite Octavia and Lillian. Mom said never fall in love with someone who’s dead. I hope that doesn’t include demons, but maybe it does. Doesn’t matter now, though. I’m going to have to remember those four steps mom used to talk about. It’s probably time to start following them a little more strictly.
I’m posting this in hopes that readers might be able to help me locate Mister Harry Velvét. I have to get back that guitar I found.
****
Standing up I move outside. A breath of clean air, a stretch to the stars. “Are you finished, my little human?” A voice I instantly recognize asks quietly.
I turn.
She sits on the porch and watches me.
I can’t tell in the darkness, but I’m pretty sure she’s smiling.
“This is where the journals end. Perhaps there will be no more. Perhaps this is actually only the beginning. I hope my brother is safe. Thank you. – Abigail Forte