Diana's Writing Blog

Nick walked slowly into the office, eyes wide. His helmet was tucked under one arm and he seemed to have forgotten it was there. As usual, he wore black pants, his black leather jacket, a white T-shirt, and his silver cross. The only unusual thing about his appearance was the smudge of pink lipstick on his lips.

Don, who had been typing up case files until this new and interesting Nick walked in, stared. “You’ve got something on your face,” he informed Nick, trying his best not to snicker.

“Some girl in the parking lot just kissed me,” Nick said, wiping lipstick off with the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” Don replied. “It’s Pledge Week. All the sorority girls from Omega Phi have to kiss a teacher.”

“I’m not a teacher!”

“I think you still count.”

“That’s against Pledge Week regulations. I’m calling the Dean.” Nick grabbed the phone and purposefully dialed the number.

“You definitely count as a teacher,” Don remarked.

Nick shot him an annoyed glance. The receptionist for the Dean’s office picked up. “Hello?” she said in a shaky voice.

“This is Nick Powell. Can I speak to Dean Carlson for a minute?”

The woman sniffled. “He can’t come to phone.”

“When will he be available?”

 The woman broke into pitiful sobs. “He’s been attacked.”

“What!?” Nick exclaimed.

Don looked up in alarm. “What?”

Nick ignored him. “What kind of attack? What happen––” She hung up. Nick set the phone down and sat down heavily on the desk.

“What is it!?” Don demanded, literally jumping with curiosity.

“There’s been some kind of attack on the Dean,” Nick replied.

“What? Is he okay?”

Nick shook his head. “She didn’t say.”

“Can we go see?” Don asked.

“It’s a crime scene,” Nick told him, “the closest we’ll get is the yellow tape in the parking lot.”

“Your whole family is cops,” Don exclaimed, “don’t you have connections?”

“They’re cops in another state,” Nick shot back. “It’s not like there’s a giant cop ‘Net or something!”

“Well––” Don’s comeback was cut off by the phone ringing.

Nick picked it up. “Hello?”

“Nick, it’s Professor Stilgate. I’m in the Dean’s office. He’s been attacked…There’s something here you need to see.”

“Okay, we’ll be right there,” Nick said.

“Where are we going?” Don asked.

“The Dean’s office,” Nick replied, heading for the door.

“What? But you just said…never mind!” Don sighed in exasperation and followed.

Even though it was only across campus, they rode over on Nick’s motorcycle. The parking lot of the main building was swarming with reporters and spectators. Police tape, as well as a few cops and security guards, kept them about twenty feet from the doors. Professor Stilgate was just outside the building’s doors, talking to one of the police officers. He waved them over when he caught sight of them.

They parked the bike and pushed through the crowed. Professor Stilgate wore a grim expression. He turned to the police officer and said, “This is Mr. Powell, the man I was telling you about. Detective Reynolds has asked that he see the crime scene.”

The man nodded and led them in. The once cheerful foyer filled with trophy cases and plaques was now filled with police officers and equipment. At the top of the stairs, the doors to the Dean’s office had also been taped off. Through the open doorway, Nick could see a group of investigators coming over the crime scene. A sudden flash of light told him that the crime scene photographer was still at work.

Their escort led them up the stairs and to the doorway of the Dean’s office. A detective stepped out. The Professor seemed to know him. “Detective Reynolds, this is Nick Powell, the man I was telling you about. And his assistant Don,” he added quickly.

Detective Reynolds eyed Nick intently, then stepped back and held up the tape for him. “Professor Stilgate says you might have some information about the attackers.”

Nick ducked under the tape, but barely got two steps into the room before being paralyzed by shock. The office was in shambles, indicating a big struggle. Everything from the top of the Dean’s had been shoved to the floor. A puddle of blood about two feet in diameter stained the beige carpet just below the desk. What had stopped Nick in his tracks however, was the wall beside the desk. The pictures and plaques that had hung on it were strewn across the floor. All across the walls, illuminated by the fluorescent crime scene investigator lights, symbols and writing had been written in blood.

Nick swallowed hard to keep his disgust in check. It didn’t work. He’d seen plenty of violent things over the years––some probably a lot worse than this––but nothing had affected him as fiercely as this did. It was because he knew exactly what had happened…What had been done to the Dean. It was playing in vivid detail in his mind.

Nick turned and stumbled back out into the hall, pushing past Detective Reynolds and the Professor. He punched the wall hard enough to bruise it, then collapsed against it.

Stilgate approached warily, with Don and the Detective in tow.

Nick didn’t look up, but said, “It’s them.”

Professor Stilgate knelt beside him. “Are you sure?”

Nick heaved a huge sigh and nodded. “I don’t know how, but it’s them. Those symbols, I’ve seen them in the Book.” He thumped his head lightly against the wall. “I can’t remember what they’re for.”

Detective Reynolds spoke up, “Somebody wanna clue me in here?”

Professor Stilgate stepped forward. “It’s a group that Dean Carlson, Nick, and I encountered about seven years ago. They worship darkness and a book that they believe was written by one of Satan’s minions.”

Reynolds swept them with a skeptical gaze. “And that writing on the wall, that’s from this book?”

“Yes,” Stilgate confirmed. “But the book has been hidden for seven years and all of the members of this group are either in prison or dead.”

“Copycat,” Reynolds mused. “Thanks.” He walked away, deep in thought.

Attention turned back to Nick, still collapsed against the wall. Stilgate put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “It’s all right.”

Nick leapt up and faced his old friend, about to give some spiteful reply. Instead, he pushed past the Professor and Don and ran down the steps. Don hurried after him, but Stilgate knew better.

Don caught up with Nick in the parking lot just as he was getting on his bike. “Hey!” Don exclaimed, grabbing Nick’s arm. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong is a friend of mine nearly died!” Nick shot back. “What’s wrong is more people are going to be hurt! What’s wrong is––” He stopped himself as if he were about to betray some secret. “I don’t know if I can stop it this time.”

“You stopped them once,” Don offered. “You can do it again.”

Nick growled in frustration. “You don’t know! You don’t know what happened last time. You don’t know what I d––” He stopped himself again. He shook Don’s hand off and jumped on the motorcycle. He was gone before Don could think of a reply.

Don threw up his hands in defeat and stalked away. Stilgate was waiting by the door to the main building. He gave the young man a sympathetic smile. “I’ll give you a ride back to the office.” He said it as calmly as ever. As if Nick’s behavior was to be expected. He started through the crowd of onlookers that had grown considerably.

Don followed him out to the parking lot. “You know, I really don’t get him sometimes,” Don said. “What’s so different about this case? Why’s he so spooked?”

“We all get scared when the past comes to haunt us,” Stilgate replied. “Even ghost hunters.” He fumbled to unlock his car.

“What do you mean the past?” Don demanded.

“Nick has to deal with this in his own way. He’ll speak of it when he’s ready,” Stilgate assured him, motioning for Don to get in.

Don huffed in annoyance and climbed into the Professor’s car. The drive across campus was slow, obstructed by the pilgrimage of students headed toward the main building. “I guess classes are cancelled,” Don remarked. He watched the throng of alarmed students hike past. “This is sure gonna put a damper on Pledge Week.”

“Hmm,” Stilgate replied, deep in thought. He pulled up to the door of the Parapsychology building. “Here you are, my boy.”

“You’re not coming?”

The older man shook his head. “I have some things to look into.”

“You know what’s going on, don’t you?” Don said.

“Not nearly as much as I’d like, my boy,” the Professor replied. “Not nearly enough.” He said the last part more to himself.

Don got out of the car and said bitterly, “I guess I’ll just wait here until you two decide to include me.”

“It’s for your own good,” Stilgate offered, “but I doubt that that’s very comforting.”

Don didn’t have to answer; his expression said it all.

Stilgate sighed. “I know it’s frustrating, but it’s Nick’s decision whether or not to tell you. I think for the moment, it’s safer if you stay out of things.”

“Yeah,” Don muttered, retreating into the building.

 

Nick was sprawled in a waiting room chair, staring at a wall. He’d been like that for the last hour as he awaited news on the Dean’s condition. Dean Carlson’s receptionist sat a few chairs down, trying to comfort Mary Carlson, the Dean’s wife. Their only daughter, Gail, was flying in from Virginia.

Finally, a doctor appeared. He was a haggard looking man with sunken eyes. Nick hung back as Mary and the receptionist gathered around the doctor. “Mrs. Carlson, your husband is in stable condition. Aside from a few bumps and bruises, there was very little trauma to his body. But he lost a lot of blood and I’m afraid he’s in a coma.”

Mary sobbed and hugged the receptionist. “Will he be okay?” she managed.

“If he comes out of the coma soon, he’ll be fine,” the doctor replied. “I suggest you all donate blood.”

Nick already had, knowing the exact diagnosis that they would get: little damage, just enough to subdue him, then do the ritual. They could’ve done a spell to put him out, Nick realized. Instead, they’d opted for the more violent method. And then they’d left him to bleed to death. If someone hadn’t found him in time––

Nick’s thoughts were interrupted by the doctor saying, “You can see him now. He’s in room 237.”

Nick watched as the women headed for the Dean’s room, but hung back, feeling out of place. It was enough to know that the Dean was stable. He’d visit later. Nick turned to go and caught an image of an all-too-familiar face in the glass. She was gone in a flash, but Nick was sure it was Delilah: those dark, ridiculing eyes were burned into his memory.

He ran after her, rounding the corner just in time to see the door to the stairwell swinging closed. He threw the door open and raced down the stairs. Nick reached the ground floor and still hadn’t seen anyone. Leaving the stairwell, he scanned the first floor: admittance desk, waiting room, exam rooms…she’d disappeared. She was either out the door or she’d doubled back. Either way, he’d lost her.

Nick walked out to the parking garage in defeat. His motorcycle was parked in the far corner. As he approached, he noticed a white piece of paper tucked into his helmet. It was blank except for the imprint of lips in black lipstick and a small typed block of words: Andrew Carlson, Dean.

It was a message and it needed no words to say, “I’m in control. I know your every move. I’ll outsmart you every time.”

Nick crumpled the paper and threw it. Then he put on his helmet and sped off.

 

Don called up yet another case file and scanned it for any mention of witchcraft. Nothing! He’d guiltily logged onto Nick’s laptop an hour and a half ago and still hadn’t found anything. He sighed and pulled up the next file.

He jumped as the door flew open. Nick strode in and stopped as he caught sight of Don at the computer. “What are you doing?”

Don winced. “Well, what do you expect? Nobody tells me anything!”

“You won’t find anything on there,” Nick informed him, slumping down on the couch. “There isn’t a case file for it. It happened seven years ago. Do the math; how old would I have been?”

“Uh…” Don gazed at the ceiling. “Let’s see, you’re how old? Twenty-seven?”

“Twenty-five,” Nick corrected dryly.

“Twenty-five? Wait, seven years ago you’d still have been in college.”

“Freshman year,” Nick confirmed.

“So if it wasn’t a case, how could you’ve known so much about this cult, or whatever?”

Nick sighed. “It was a few months into my freshman year. I was enrolled as a law major, but I was struggling. My mother had just died, I was fighting with my father, I hated all of my classes––well, all but one.”

“Parapsychology?” Don guessed.

Nick nodded. “I let most of my school work slide. Started partying. Goth parties, mostly. I liked the atmosphere.”

Don raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Nick continued: “One night, I met three of the cult members. The inner circle, they called themselves. They seemed…different than the others, above it all. I couldn’t stop staring. After a while Delilah, the leader, came over.

“Wait,” Don interrupted. “Are you saying you joined the cult?”

Nick sighed and nodded. “At first it was…great. I felt like I belonged somewhere. Like I finally had a family. And…the power was amazing. I didn’t really believe in magic, not until they showed me. It was small stuff at first: unlocking doors, lighting candles, moving objects, stuff like that. But…” He sighed and stared out the window at the gray, overcast day. “Once you’ve tasted the power, you have to have more. The Professor recognized the signs and tried to warn me. He knew what the group was really about. I refused to believe it. I couldn’t even see that I was addicted to the power.”

Don was staring at his friend now in complete shock. “What happened next?”

“That was when they brought out the book. With the spells in that book, you could be anything, have anything, do anything. Wealth, power, beauty, all of it was in there. For a price. Delilah had stolen it. She wouldn’t say how or where exactly she’d gotten it. She’d been waiting until she had enough people to carry out some of the more…advanced spells. One in particular had caught her eye: immortality.

“But I didn’t know all of this at the time. I wasn’t in the inner circle. The only two she trusted was her boyfriend, Les, and his sister, Zana. When they finally had enough followers to do the spell, they decided to do a trial run with a spell to boost power. We met at midnight right on campus. The spell was different right from the start. We all had to chant at the same time, move in step. Then came the altar. I don’t know where she got it. It looked old, probably Aztec or Druid. It had grooves running along its sides, leading to a large bowl in the middle. I should’ve realized what it was for––I probably did–– but…I couldn’t think about anything except getting more power.”

“What was it for?” Don demanded anxiously.

Nick swallowed. “Blood. Sacrifices. We all gathered around the altar. Then Delilah brought out the ceremonial dagger. She slit her hand and let it run into the groove. Then she passed it to the next person. I knew that any spell involving bloodletting was dark magic, but by that time I didn’t care.”

Don’s eyes widened. “You mean you…”

“I mixed blood with the others,” Nick confirmed. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Don thought he caught a glimmer of moisture in his friend’s eyes. Nick continued. “But that wasn’t the end of the ceremony. They’d, uh, they’d brought a deer. A fawn, I think. It was alive. They’d enchanted it so that it just sat there. I just stared as Les and Delilah hoisted it into center bowl.

“At first I really couldn’t imagine what they were going to do. Until Zana passed Delilah the knife.” Nick took a breath that shook just a bit. “I wanted to stop them, but I couldn’t make myself move. I watched its eyes widen with fear as she slit its throat. I watched it struggle as the blood drained from its body. I watched Delilah let the blood flow over her hands like she was playing in a fountain. Then they cast the deer aside.

“Zana held the book while Delilah wrote symbols in blood on either side of the bowl.”

“Symbols like the ones on the Dean’s wall?” Don asked.

“Like them, but not those symbols. I’d recognize those.”

“So then what happened?”

“I left. No one noticed. They were all caught up in what came next…”

“What came next?”

“Drinking the blood to gain the power.”

Don made a face.

Nick continued, “I went to the only person I could think of for help.”

“The Professor,” Don guessed.

“Exactly. I came here and told him everything. He was worried: power boosting was a sure sign that Delilah had a bigger spell in mind. He sent me back to see if I could figure out what it was. Meanwhile, he called the Dean and explained most of what was going on.”

“So what happened?” Don demanded. “Did the Dean bust ‘em?”

“Not right away,” Nick replied. “They need evidence. I went back and followed Zana, the weakest of the three. I managed to overhear them talking about ‘something big’ that would happen in a week, but I couldn’t hear what. Then Delilah gave Zana the book and told her to return it to the house. They kept it in a special vault that was impossible to break into. I knew that I had to get the book before Zana got to the house. I jumped her as soon as she got far enough from the others. I managed to get the book away from her. After that, I ran…but not to the Professor.”

“What?” Don exclaimed. “Why not?”

“I don’t know…I guess having the book, actually holding it in my hands, I couldn’t just give it up. So I took it and just drove. When I’d put a few miles between the college and myself, I stopped at some bar. I hid in a corner booth and started reading. You wouldn’t believe what the book is capable of. Everything I’d ever wanted was in that book…including a spell to raise the dead.”

“Your mother,” Don said softly.

Nick nodded and Don thought he saw a tear glint on Nick’s cheek. “I thought about it. For a long time. But I couldn’t do…what it called for. What use would it do to have my mom back if I had to become a monster to do it?”

“Then you called the Professor?”

“Yeah. I gave him the book. We figured out that Delilah’s plan was to do the immortality spell.”

“But she couldn’t without the book, right?”

Nick shook his head. That was our mistake…we underestimated her. She’d anticipated that I’d steal the book. She’d already begun performing the rituals. The spell called for seven days of fasting. She’d done that. All she needed were the final sacrifices. She’d copied the ritual for them. As soon as I stole the book, she began preparations to perform them.”

“What kind of sacrifices?” Don asked. He watched Nick’s face. “Not deer, I’m guessing.”

“Seven three day old infant girls,” Nick replied. “When we told the cops, they told us that seven infants had been stolen from the hospital.”

“How does that happen?” Don demanded.

“They had a nurse working for them. It was that simple.”

“What next? Did you stop them?”

“Barely. The cops arrived just in time. They captured everyone except Les. He slit his own throat with the ceremonial dagger.”

“So, somehow one of them escaped from prison,” Don said. “But who?”

“Delilah,” Nick said somberly. “I saw her outside the Dean’s hospital room.”

“Did you call the police?” Don demanded.

“No evidence,” Nick replied. He didn’t mention the note in his helmet.

“Okay, but what can she do? You said the book is hidden, right?”

“She either memorized the spell or…” He shrugged. “Who knows?”

“So what do we do?” Don demanded.

“If we can find some reference to the spells in the book, maybe we can figure out which one she’s doing.”

“Where can we find this stuff?” Don asked.

“There are a few Internet sites I know of,” Nick said. “And some references in the library that might lead somewhere.”

“I’ll take the Internet. You take the library,” Don said.

“Fine.” Nick scribbled on a pad of paper. “Here’re the sites and the symbols from the wall. Scan them in on the Professor’s computer and e-mail them to mine.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Don demanded.

“He’s got some rare book contacts. He’ll call and check that the book is still hidden, then he’ll try to find out if there’re any other copies.”

“Can’t he just check the symbols against the hidden book?” Don suggested.

Nick shook his head. “The book’s…hard to get to. It has to be.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“It’s better if you don’t,” Nick replied. “In case of torture.” Don watched his face, but couldn’t tell whether he was joking. Nick continued, “If you hear from the Professor, fill him in and call me at the library.”

Don was already booting up Nick’s laptop. “Will do.”

 

Nick left the library eight hours later. The sun had long since gone down and he hadn’t found any clues as to what the spell might be. He couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. Sighing in defeat, Nick trudged across campus toward the small Parapsychology building.

The campus was deserted and eerily quiet. Nick knew that this was because most of the students were having a vigil for the Dean, but the silence was still unsettling. Nick suddenly had the feeling of being watched. He shook it off, knowing full well that if it were Delilah he couldn’t do a thing to stop her.

The building was in sight now. He could see that the light in his office was still on. As he neared the door, he heard footsteps behind him. Nick slowed and pretended to fumble with the door handle, trying to see out of the corner of his eye.

He jumped and whirled as a pale hand gripped his arm. He came face to face with a girl in a long black jacket, face barely visible under the hood. She was too tall to be Delilah. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Wh––”

The girl pressed her lips to his, suddenly. He moved to pull away, but stopped as she pressed something into his hand. The girl pulled back, staring questioningly into his eyes for a moment. Nick gave a slight nod and slipped his hands into his pockets. The girl ran off, joining two other girls across the parking lot. Nick hurried inside.

Don smirked as Nick entered, sporting a dark shade of lipstick. “Nice color on you. Omega Phi strikes again?”

“I don’t know,” Nick replied absently. He removed the object the girl had given him. It was a small square of folded paper.

“What’s that?” Don asked.

“The girl who kissed me slipped me this.”

Don grinned. “Is that all she slipped you?”

“Don!”

“Sorry.” He turned his attention to the business at hand. “So, what’s it say?”

Nick unfolded and read the message scribbled inside:

 

Have info. about Dean’s murder. 3 a.m. Come alone. Woods outside of town. Mile marker 5.

 

He passed it to Don, who scanned it. “The Dean isn’t dead.”

Nick nodded. “She doesn’t know that because she was in on the attack. All she must’ve seen was the Dean left to bleed to death and then the cop cars. If she were involved, she wouldn’t hang around the scene of the crime to see how it turned out. She probably just assumed he’d died.”

“But Delilah was at the hospital,” Don reminded him. “If she’s with Delilah, then she’d know he was alive.”

Nick shook his head. “Delilah doesn’t tell her followers much.”

“Well, are you gonna go?”

“Of course,” Nick replied. “It’s the best chance we’ve got.”

“I suppose I don’t need to point out that it could be a trap,” Don remarked.

“Please don’t,” Nick replied. “Listen, keep the note. If I don’t call within an hour, go to the police. Tell them everything. And make sure the Dean’s okay.”

Don nodded solemnly. “Well, we’ve got about nine hours to kill. What do we do till then?”

“Did you find anything online?”

Don shook his head. “Nothing. And can I just say, that’s some pretty freaky stuff you were into.”

“Alright. I’ll take over. Why don’t you take a break? Get some food. Do some homework. Come back around three,” Nick suggested.

Don yawned. “Sounds good.” He started for the door, but stopped short. “Just promise me you’ll call if you find something.”

“Scout’s honor,” Nick replied, taking his seat in front of the laptop.

Don laughed. “You were a boy scout? Figures!”

Nick scowled at his assistant but let the comment slide. Instead, he asked, “You didn’t hear anything from the Professor while I was out, did you?”

“Nope,” Don replied. His face fell. “You don’t think he’s––”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Nick assured him. “Go get some rest. I’ll try him at home.”

“You sure?”

Nick nodded. “Go ahead.”

He waited until his assistant was across the parking lot before grabbing the phone. He dialed hurriedly, pressing a 9 instead of an 8. Growling in annoyance, Nick slammed the phone down, picked it back up, and dialed correctly. It rang: once, twice, three times. “Come on!” Nick exclaimed. Four, five. The machine picked up. “Professor, it’s Nick. Call me back if you get this,” he said. He didn’t need to say it was urgent; he knew he sounded panicked enough to convey that message. He’s probably asleep, Nick told himself.

Nick hung up and sat back in defeat. He felt utterly helpless. The Professor could be anywhere, could even be in trouble, and Nick couldn’t do a thing about it. Nick had the sudden urge to drive around the city until he found his Professor, but without knowing where to look, Nick knew it was hopeless. “I’m getting him a cell phone,” Nick muttered.

Nick resigned himself to searching the Internet for any reference to the symbols or the book.

 

Nick woke with a start at exactly 2:30 in the morning. Already, the memory of his dreams was fading, leaving only an impression of fear behind and an image of Delilah’s lips smiling tauntingly. He yawned and sat up, looking to the computer screen. Instead of the site he’d been loading, he found the Notepad program called up with 3 simple letters across the screen:

 

I see you

 

Nick jumped back, realizing what it meant: she’d been there! She’d been watching him the whole time. Nick closed out the program, indicating that he didn’t want to save with an angry mouse click.

Nick knew he had no time to worry about this now. He had to meet the girl. Nick headed toward the door, but stopped. As an afterthought, he grabbed his beloved laptop and tucked it securely under his arm. Don could do research on the Professor’s computer. Nick wasn’t abandoning his laptop when Delilah could return and do who-knows-what to it.

He checked his motorcycle for signs of tampering, but found it intact. Nick secured the laptop in the carrying compartment and sped off, hoping that Delilah couldn’t follow at that speed.

He reached the mile marker a little after three. The road was deserted fro as far as he could see in either direction. He parked the motorcycle in the bushes to the side of the road. The woods that bordered the road on either side were dense. Perfect to hide in. Nick strained to see if any hooded eyes were looking out at him. As he scanned his surroundings, Nick realized that he was alone and probably surrounded without even a flashlight, let alone a weapon.

Nick started back toward his motorcycle to search the carrying compartment for a spare flashlight. A hand shot out of the dark and caught his arm. Once again, Nick found himself face to face with the hooded girl. She was standing amidst the trees, nearly invisible among the shadows. Only her face was visible, the silver moonlight reflecting on her pale skin.

“Where you followed?” she whispered.

“I don’t think so. I can’t be sure,” Nick replied just as quietly.

The girl nodded solemnly and took his hand. She pulled him into the pitch-black forest. They walked slowly, feeling their way. Nick stumbled along for nearly ten minutes before they finally a clearing.

It appeared suddenly. It was lit with a soft orange light, though none of it had spilled out into the forest. The girl released his hand and continued to the center of the clearing. She began tending to a pentagram, formed from twigs with candles at each point and intersection.

 “We can talk here,” she informed him. “I’ve warded it with every protection spell I know.” She pulled back her hood and smoothed her shoulder-length brown hair. “I’m Tori,” she said, glancing nervously at the black surrounding them.

Nick judged her to be about eighteen. Young and scared, he thought, like I was. “I’m Nick.”

Tori smiled faintly. “I know. She still talks about you.”

There was no need to ask who ‘she’ was. “You said you had information about what happened to the Dean?”

Tori nodded, looking away.

“You were involved, weren’t you?”

She sniffled and nodded again. “I wasn’t there, but when she came back with the blood,” her voice cracked, “I knew what she’d done.” She wiped at her face.

“He’s not dead,” Nick told her.

Tori looked at him, startled. “He’s not?” She breathed a shaky sigh of relief. “Thank God! I thought…”

“How are you involved?” Nick prompted.

“I–I work for her.”
“Work for her?” Nick demanded.

Tori nodded. “She recruited me to translate the book for her.”

“The book?” Nick asked urgently. “What book?”

“The spell book,” Tori said. “You took her copy, but she found the original somehow.”

“The original? I though it was destroyed.”

Tori shrugged. “It’s real. I’ve spent the last two years staring at it.”

“So, what’s her plan? What spell is she doing?”

“She wants to raise the dead,” Tori said. “She’s going to raise––”

“Les?!”

“I think that’s his name,” Tori confirmed.

Nick sighed. “No wonder the symbols looked familiar.” He searched his memory. “It requires human sacrifices,” Nick said.

“The blood of any present at the death and a sacrifice of thirty-nine pure girls.”

“How is she getting thirty-nine…wait, you’re Delta Phi, right?”

Tori nodded. “You guessed it, she’s running a sorority. The Pledges have to wear a special lipstick. When they kiss someone it changes colors if they aren’t…pure. Those who are pure get in.”

“Then she’s going to murder them,” Nick finished.

“Exactly.”

“When?” Nick demanded.

“I don’t know the date. It has to be done just before the sun rises. As soon as she gets the blood of all those present.”

“That would be me and the Professor,” Nick realized. He tried to catch her eye as he asked, “How long have you know about this?”

Tori fidgeted. “I’ve known about her plan for a year. But,” she looked pleadingly at Nick, “you have to understand, she’s got so much power! I translated the book; I know what she could do to me.”

“I do understand. Better than you realize,” Nick replied. “I know how magic can trap you.”

“Then help me fight her,” Tori begged. “You have the other copy of the book. Together we have more than enough power to stop her.”

“The book is gone,” Nick told her. “And I don’t practice magic anymore.”

“How can you say that!” Tori exclaimed. “You know what she’s capable of! You know what she’s going to do!” She was shrieking now. “Help me! I can’t do it alone!”

“I won’t use magic. It’s too addicting. But tell me her plan and we’ll find a way to stop her.”

“We can’t!” Tori shrieked. “Not without magic! She’ll kill us! Can’t you see it, you’re turning your back on the one thing that could save us.”

“No, you’re clinging to something that made you think it was okay to let thirty-nine people die!” Nick shot back.

Tori stared at him, tears welling in her eyes.

Nick softened his tone. “I swear to you, we’ll find a way.”

“You’re as big a fool as she said you were!” Tori exclaimed. “So be it, I’ll do it myself!” She disappeared into the woods, leaving no trace.

“Wait!” Nick yelled, but it was too late. Defeated, he trudged back to the motorcycle and headed for his office.

 

Don was waiting anxiously at the door as Nick arrived. “How’d it go?”

Nick shook his head. “Badly. Any word from the Professor?”

“It’s four in the morning,” Don replied. “He’s probably asleep at home.”

Nick prayed his friend was right. He grabbed the phone and dialed the Professor’s number. It rang five times. Nick was about to hang up as the machine picked up when he heard a familiar self-satisfied voice:

“Five a.m. Come alone. You know the place. The ritual doesn’t demand his death, Nick, but I’ll rip out his still beating heart if you don’t come.”

Nick hung up, fighting off nausea.

“What is it?” Don demanded.

“What time is it?” Nick asked.

“Four thirty,” Don replied, glancing at his watch.

“She’s got the Professor. We have to go. Now!”

“Where?” Don demanded.

Nick rifled through the ghost hunting gear in the corner of the room. He pulled out two walkie-talkies, then grabbed his helmet and ran for the door. Don sprinted after him. “Where are we going?”

“I have a plan, but we need some things.”

 

They pulled into the park at four fifty. Nick could see a glow coming from the grouping of trees ahead of them. He turned to Don. “Stay here no matter what.”

“This is a bad plan,” Don remarked.

Nick ignored him. They’d been through this already. “Got your radio?”

Don held up his walkie-talkie. “Got yours?”

Nick patted his pocket. “Remember my signal.”

“You free the girls and the Professor, I call the cops. Don’t worry, I’ve got ‘em on speed dial.” Don looked at his watch. “You better go.”

Nick followed the familiar path down into the trees. As he neared the clearing, he could hear the chanting of many voices. He knelt in the shadows, just short of the clearing and surveyed the scene. The same altar from seven years ago sat in the middle of the clearing. Delilah stood behind it, facing three rows of girls. The girls were dressed in white and chanting in Latin. A captive sat against either of the two smaller sides of the altar, their hands shackled in place and their mouths gagged. The Professor was on the side facing Nick, Tori was on the other. Nick realized at once that his plan wasn’t going to work, not with two captives, but what choice did he have?

Nick approached from the side, stopping a few feet away from the altar. Delilah smiled as she caught sight of him. “Cutting it awfully close, aren’t we Nick? This spell has to be done before dawn, you know.”

“Let them go,” Nick said.

“Them?” Delilah looked at her captives. “No. You can have him,” she motioned with her knife to Stilgate, “but I need her. She’s one of the thirty-nine. Besides,” she stepped over to Tori and thrust her face close to the girl’s, “I don’t take betrayal well.” She straightened and turned back to Nick. “You know that, Nick.” She went to the other side of the altar. “Now,” she set the knife against the Professor’s neck, “I get your blood or you watch him die.”

The Professor met Nick’s eyes and shook his head emphatically. Delilah wrenched his head viciously. “False bravado,” she remarked. “Quite the turn on, but we’re short on time.” She pressed the knife deeper into the Professor’s neck. “Choose!”

Nick produced his own knife and shed his jacket. He traced a long gash across his forearm.

Delilah smiled sweetly. “Thank you.” With cobra-like reflexes, Delilah slashed the Professor’s wrist and let the blood run over her hands. She motioned Nick over with a jerk of her head. Delilah trace symbols on the altar with the Professor’s blood. Then, licking her finger clean, she did the same with Nick’s blood. “There now, was that so hard?”

“Let him go,” Nick ground out.

“I told you, this spell has to be timed perfectly,” Delilah replied. She reached into her pocket and produced a handful of powder. “Besides…” She blew it into Nick’s face. His knees suddenly gave out and he toppled over. Delilah towered over him. “I think Les is gonna want to see you.” She turned to the girls who had stopped chanting to watch the proceedings. “Shackle him to the altar. The ceremony begins now.”

Two of the girls dragged Nick’s limp body to the front of the altar and secured his hands. He stared up into their cheerful faces. “She’s going to kill you!” he exclaimed. “You’re sacrifices! Can’t you see that?!”

Tori tried to speak through her gag.

Delilah laughed and shook her head. “Your lies won’t work. They know that they’re about to receive the ultimate power.” She winked at Nick. To her followers, she said, “Begin!”

They began to chant once more. Delilah produced a large clay pitcher full of some liquid. She held it high above her head. “Drink of this and receive the power!”

Tori, who had worked her gag off, screamed, “It’s poison!”

The girls ignored her. Delilah took her pitcher into the crowd of sacrifices. Tori hung her head. Nick thought he heard her praying. He tugged at his shackles, trying desperately to work his hands free. “Delilah,” he yelled. “Don’t do this!”

Delilah looked back at him, smiling in mock sympathy. “Poor Nick, still trying to play the hero.” She laughed and turned back to her followers.

Suddenly, Don’s face appeared above Nick. Don grinned and brandished a key. “I told you it was a bad plan.” He unlocked Nick’s shackles.

Nick leapt up and grabbed the book that lay open on the altar. “Free the others, then get out of here.” Don nodded and hurried over to the Professor. Nick turned to face Delilah, who was encouraging the first girl to drink. “Delilah!” he bellowed.

Delilah sighed and turned. “Nick, what did I say about false br…” She caught sight of the book and shrieked with rage. “Drop it!”

“Drop yours first,” Nick shot back.

Delilah growled and shoved the pitcher into the girl’s hands. “Drink, then pass it on.”

Tori rushed forward and shoved the pitcher out of the girl’s hands. It fell to the ground, spilling murky liquid into the grass. The girls rushed toward it. Tori punched the closest two and stomped the pitcher. It shattered into a million ceramic pieces.

“Kill her!” Delilah screamed.

The girls gave a collective scream of rage and surged toward Tori. Meanwhile, Delilah was advancing on Nick slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. “Don’t be foolish, Nick,” she purred. “You can’t stop me.”

Nick looked to the lightening sky. “I already have. It’s over. It’s too late.”

Delilah screeched and stomped, literally shaking with rage. “I’ll kill you! Your blood will boil in your veins!” She ran to the altar where Nick’s blood was formed into symbols. She snapped her fingers and fire sprang to life in her palm. Muttering, she touched the flame to the blood. It caught fire and traced the symbols. Delilah looked to Nick in triumph.

Nick held up his arm and wiped away the blood, showing that there was no wound underneath. He pulled out the knife. “Prop knife,” he informed her, demonstrating on his palm.

Delilah screeched again. Nick dropped the book and rushed her, fighting to restrain her before she could cast another spell. They fell to the ground, grappling. Delilah fought with nearly superhuman strength, clawing and biting like a wild animal.

Finally, two policemen pulled her up. She glared at Nick darkly and said in a low, almost inhuman voice, “You will die.” The men hauled her away. All around, girls were screaming and running. Some escaped, others were caught. Nick lay on the ground, chest heaving, unable to make himself move.

Don’s grinning face appeared over him once more. “You okay?” he asked, offering Nick a hand up.

Nick nodded and groaned as he climbed to his feet. He examined the many bite and claw marks covering most of his exposed skin. “I think I need a rabies shot.” He retrieved his jacket from the ground nearby. “How’s the Professor?”

“Fine,” Don replied. “They’re patching him up right now.” They walked over to the altar. Don gave a low whistle as he surveyed the charred blood. “Somewhere there is a very unhappy dead pig.”

Nick nodded solemnly. “You have to admit, that part of my plan was brilliant.”

“The rest of it sucked, though. Who called it? I called it.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll admit it,” Nick said. “You were right.”

“Making you…wrong?” Don looked expectantly at Nick.

“Don’t push it, it’s been a long night.”

Don shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“So how did you get the key to those shackles, anyway?”

Don grinned. “A little birdie gave it to me.”

“Do you have to be difficult?”

“I’m serious. A bird flew over and dropped the key.”

“It must have been Tori,” Nick said.

“Speaking of, shouldn’t we stop the cops from arresting her?” Don looked around. “Hey, where’d she go?”

He turned back to Nick, who was staring at the ground. “Here’s a better question,” Nick said slowly, “where’s the book?”

“Uh-oh.”

 

Two nights later, Nick sat in his office. It was late and he was supposed to be researching for an upcoming case. Instead, he was staring at the wall, lost in thought. The creak of the door startled him back to reality. He swiveled his chair. “Don, I told you to go––” He stopped as he saw an unexpected face. “Tori.”

Silently, she walked over and set an old book on his desk. On top of that, she placed a stack of papers and a computer disk. “These are all of the copies I have, translated and original. That’s two years of my life right there.”

Nick laid a hand on them. “Why?”

“I realized that you were right. Anything that made me think that it was okay to let people be murdered…well, it can’t be good, can it? I’m sorry.”

She turned to go, but hesitated. “Did you really give it up? Just like that?”

Nick shook his head. “No, not just like that. It was hard.”

“But how did you do it?” She sat down on his couch. “I mean, I can avoid the spell books and the websites, but…the knowledge is still in me. How do you sit in a broken car, knowing that you could make it start? How do you watch someone die, knowing you can save them?”

“There’s no easy answer to that. You’re a lot more powerful than I ever was. All I can tell you is: however good it may seem, there’s always bad that comes of it. Nothing comes for free.”

Tori nodded. “Does it ever go away? That need for the power?”

“Not entirely, but it gets easier. Friends make it easier.”

Tori gave a sardonic laugh. “All my friends are in jail. I’m in this alone. It’s not like there’s a magic user’s anonymous.”

Nick walked over and sat next to her. “You’re not alone. You can always talk to me or the Professor…even Don. You won’t have to do this alone, I promise.”

Tori looked over at him. “Thank you.” She hugged him suddenly. Nick was a bit stunned, but he returned the embrace. Tori stood, smiling shyly at him, and left.

She brushed past Don, who had been standing unnoticed in the hall, until then. He watched her go, grinning mischievously. “Well, we made a new friend, I see.”

Nick scowled at him and returned to his desk.

“Tell me, is there any girl you’ve ever met who didn’t like you?”

“I thought I told you to go home.”

 End