The Infernal Games Page 10

  “You know damn well,” she answered, her anger rising to match his own.

  “Druids,” Oxivius huffed. “You judge me on my magic, while they would crush you under ten stones until you repented for consorting with demons.”

  “You have no right,” she shot back, the anger in her voice rivaling his own.

  “You have no right,” he echoed back sternly. “You come to me, accusing me of conspiring to your entrapment, then expect me to have answers to the problems you created, love, for no other reason than your continued insistence that I and those like me are evil.”

  “Black magic stains the soul,” Xlina replied coldly. “Argue intent all you want, protest it from the rooftops until every person taking their dog for a piss in the park hears your theories on magic. At the end of the day, you are not the good guy.”

  “Xlina, love,” he said, drawing intimately close so she could almost feel his whiskers on the skin of her face. “I never said I was the good guy. That’s what you wanted me to be.”

  She stood face-to-face with him in the park as he stared her down in silence. Abruptly, he turned away to continue his storming path out of the park. Strolling people cautiously stepped aside, allowing him to pass as if his anger were a palpable cloud lingering in the air.

  “To hell with you, then,” she called loudly as he strode away. He passed ten feet, then twenty, approaching a bend in the walk that would take him from view. She waited for him to turn back, pleaded inside for him to take one last look, offer one sign that there was hope, but he walked out of view, without even the slightest glance back as she stood bewildered in the park.

  She became very aware of the people around her, the hushed whispers and stares. She heard the mumble from somewhere to the side of someone slandering her under their breath. Her face flushed red with embarrassment, and she trembled, looking around helplessly at the many onlookers who tried in vain to hide their fascination with the growing spectacle.

  Spinning the opposite way Oxivius had gone, she strode defiantly down the path back toward the farmers market. Oxivius had been her go-to plan, and she had figured he would know at least something about Valeria. He seemed to know something about all things Otherworld related. She hadn’t meant it as a slight to his character, but he was obviously offended. She hadn’t seen him upset like that; he had been so coolheaded in the face of the cephalopod. Still, it was nice to know that somewhere, under the bluff and bluster, he was still human.

  She found herself back among the various vendors still cleaning up their stalls at the market. The place was almost deserted, with only the handful of the vegan market stalls that sat across the way from Oxivius’ Food From the Heart sausage stand being cleaned up and packed away for the evening. They were a trio of chatty guys looking like they had come straight from Woodstock, with clothing that was either chic retro inspired or left over garbage from the 60s. Xlina passed by innocently with a curt smile and a nod as she made for the path to the college campus.

  “Hey,” called one of the trio as he trotted up beside her.

  “Hi,” she nodded, slowing slightly to take in the man. He was shorter than her, standing five foot five at best, with long, matted brown hair that was mostly unkempt and a matching brown beard that shot out like the end of an old straw broom. Behind his smile lingered a gold tooth that seemed to catch the light as he nodded eagerly for acknowledgement.

  “Hold up a second,” he said casually as his sandals snapped and clapped on the ground peeling from his sweaty bare feet as he walked briskly to catch up to her. His unwashed toes peeked out from under a pair of brown corduroy pants, and he wore a tie-dyed shirt that was easily two sizes too large. His wrists jangled with gold and silver bands, and his fingers were adorned with mood rings on each hand. She was certain he had a peace symbol necklace buried under his bushy beard to complete the ensemble.

  “I’m kind of in a hurry,” she replied, turning back only momentarily. His two cohorts continued chatting up a storm as they packed boxes with a variety of vegetables from their stand.

  “Chillax; I come in peace,” he replied, his hands up defensively with a light chuckle that seemed all too common among stoners and surfers.

  “Can I help you?” Xlina asked, stopping abruptly and making clear indication in her tone that she was being inconvenienced.

  “Yes,” he nodded with a wide smile that made him look cartoonish. “But more importantly, I can help you.”

  “Help me how exactly?” she replied, on guard and motioning to the pair of guys packing up the stand. “I’m not in the market for produce.”

  “No, clearly,” he said, wiggling his fingers in front of her face like a crazy stage magician. “You have the look; I have the wears.”

  “The look,” she repeated, her voice filled with doubt. Either he was indicating her familiarity with the Otherworld, or it was the worst pickup line ever. It was hard for her to decipher.

  “Of one in the know,” he said in a hushed voice with an over-exaggerated wink. “Witch, am I right? Of course, I can feel your energy from across the way. You smell of one who has seen the beyond.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she said with a smile. Perhaps her luck was picking up. What were the odds that the simple farmers market would be so rich in awakened?

  “No flattery,” he said shaking his head innocently. “We brothers don’t deal in such false tongues. I can see you came looking for something having to do with the occult. We saw you dealing with the sausage man. A terrible sort he is.”

  “Really,” Xlina replied skeptically. It was kind of creepy to hear they had been watching her, but perhaps their intent all along had been to keep an eye on Oxivius. He was a necromancer after all.

  “Of course,” he said with a reassuring nod. “That feller ain’t right in the head, you know.”

  “I’m learning,” she agreed, thinking back to the outburst leading Oxivius to storm away.

  “We know he’s involved in practices,” the man continued, his voice drifting to barely a whisper as he leaned closer. “of the dark arts.”

  “I didn’t until it was too late,” Xlina admitted. “But it’s irrelevant now; he isn’t going to be of use anymore.”

  “Oh, but we heard your plight,” he said gruffly. “As did half o’the park, you were arguing so loud.”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied. “I didn’t mean to cause such a scene.”

  “Not to trouble your heart,” he said with a wide, sweeping gesture to the market. “A farmers market is often filled with good folk in the know. It’s not like we can sell our goods in the big box stores.”

  “I suppose not,” she agreed.

  “Listen,” he beckoned, waving slightly for her to follow. “Come sit a spell and explain what trouble ye found, and we’ll do what we can to help you un-find it.”

  “That’s a tempting offer,” she responded apologetically. “I am afraid I don’t have much to offer in the way of payment for services, however.”

  He took a deep breath, inhaling through his nose as if he were about to blow out the candles on a birthday cake. Holding it for a moment, he exhaled deeply and smiled again.

  “Oh, but the sniffer says ye do,” he said with a sly wink, eyeing the purse.

  “I need money for those,” she replied, remembering the rent coming due.

  “Come sit a spell,” he beckoned again. “We’ll pay a fair price for what ye have and offer a fair bit o’ advice if we have it.”

  “I don’t see the harm in that,” she agreed, following the oddly-dressed man back to his two companions, who looked up and greeted her warmly with smiles and nods.

  “Arthur,” the man on the left said, extending his hand. He sported shaggy brown hair but was clean shaven in the face. She reached forward with a firm grip, shaking and smiling before moving to the next.

  “Nick,” the man on her right said, taking her hand with a firm shake and gesturing for her to have a seat on an overturned bucket. “Sorry about the
seating.”

  “And I’m Pete,” the bearded man continued, gesturing to the bucket as he pulled up a milkcrate and flipped it into position for optimal seating.

  “Xlina,” she replied at last, sitting uncomfortably on the overturned bucket.

  “Xlina, that’s a unique name,” Arthur added, “What’s it mean?”

  “It is a Greek derivative,” she replied. “From my mother, I have heard it translated to mean ‘from the woods.’ My father was Celtic. It just kind of fit.”

  “It’s a treasure,” Nick added with a smile. Out of the three brothers, he was the best groomed and was probably the front man for the business. His dirty-blond hair seemed cleaner and was tied back in a braid. He had a clean-shaven face and pearly-white teeth, and his brown eyes invited you to linger. His build was strong, but not overly muscled. He was still sleek, and under different circumstances, she would have been very pleased to run into him on the street.

  “Thanks,” she said with a coy smile that lingered perhaps too long on his eyes.

  “We are the Brothers Three,” Pete continued, pointing to their logo on a vegan-marked recyclable shopping bag. “All your hermetic needs, plus organic vegetables to keep the body strong and pure.”

  “That sounds nice,” she replied, feeling uneasy about trying to sell the cephalopod parts to the vegans.

  “Let’s have a peek at what you have,” Arthur said, holding his hand out for the purse. With a sigh of resignation, she handed over the purse and watched him unzip and peer inside with bated anticipation.

  “Ohhhhhh, this is good.” He smiled, passing the purse to Pete.

  “Mmmm, but it’s at least a day old,” Pete chimed in as he put his nose close to the purse and inhaled. “Going on two.”

  “Lemme see,” continued Nick, snatching the purse from Pete and drawing mock protest and outrage. “It’s still good.”

  “What’s it worth?” Xlina asked. “I lost my job today, if your sympathy will help with the price.”

  “I’ll give you five hundred for the ink,” Arthur said, crossing his arms and smiling proudly.

  “Seven,” Pete chimed in, not to be outdone.

  “Eight,” said Nick over the two brothers’ protests.

  “Nine, but that’s as high as I can go,” Arthur quipped back. Xlina just sat stunned, watching the brothers squabble and bicker, competing with each other for the ink sac.

  “Two thousand,” Nick said firmly, drawing the ire of both brothers.

  “Aw, but you ought to be getting her number for that,” Pete protested lewdly.

  “That’s ne’er a way to talk about the lady,” Arthur scolded with a finger wagging.

  “I apologize for him,” Nick said, digging in the pockets of his jeans. Xlina couldn’t believe it. That would certainly cover the rent, and watching Nick dig the wallet from the back of his tight-fitting jeans was certainly a bonus. He fished out a wad of bills, counting out to two thousand. Xlina wondered for a second whether it would be too forward to slip the good-looking, well-to-do man her number.

  “It’s okay,” Xlina smiled at Pete. “I’m flattered really.”

  “Ahhh, but Nick got the ink,” Arthur said resolutely. “Now tell us about the problems that brought you to the meat eater, and we’ll see if we can’t barter for that other item.”

  “It’s kind of embarrassing,” Xlina continued, fidgeting uncomfortably. “I got into some trouble back some time ago and got a court appointed social worker to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

  “Always the way,” Arthur chimed back. “A little bit of magic showing, and they haul out the white coats.”

  “Aye,” agreed Pete.

  “Well, all was good for a while,” she continued, feeling supported for the first time in a while. The brothers didn’t seem all that bad, and they were vegans after all. “I moved to Portland, enrolled in school, you know? Things were working out.”

  “That’s when karma likes to kick you,” Nick added, drawing nods of agreement from the brothers.

  “So the big question,” she said, holding her breath nervously, filled with anxiety. “What do you know of marks?”

  The brothers all gasped at the same time and glanced at each other nervously. They traded pensive looks of concern under furrowed brows and exchanged nods. Their eyes darted about, and their facial expressions told of a silent conversation between them. She felt a sudden uneasiness as she sat on the bucket, wondering why she had so quickly confided in three strangers. Now they sat in front of her, judging her and contemplating her intentions.

  “I was tricked,” she added defensively, prompting the Three Brothers to draw in, looking at her cautiously.

  “Everyone is tricked,” Arthur added, his cheery tone and disposition fading. “That’s why there are so many tales of poor young witches being tied to demons. Oh, everyone thinks it won’t happen to them. That they can control the pact, honor their word. Get their desires without a price to pay.”

  “There is always a price,” continued Pete.

  “Always,” agreed Nick.

  “I didn’t know,” Xlina protested. “I thought she was just with the government.”

  “That ought to have been the first warning,” replied Arthur.

  “I was young,” Xlina lamented. “Unprepared. Why would a freaking demon target me?”

  “You were vulnerable,” Nick replied. “Desperate. They can smell it, sure as we can smell Arthur downwind on thirteen-bean chili nights.”

  “Oi,” Arthur said with a half-hearted smack to Nick’s shoulder. “Not in front of the customers.”

  “So you’re marked,” Pete continued, ignoring the two brothers’ feigned squabbling.

  “Yes,” Xlina said, hanging her head low.

  “Well, not much to do,” Pete continued soberly. “You can live out yer pact. Might be better in the long run to seek absolution.”

  “Absolution?” Xlina asked skeptically.

  “Aye,” Arthur said, leaning forward with a strange glint in his eye. “You could throw yourself on the mercy of a coven. Beg for forgiveness and live out your days under their protection on holy ground. Knowing fer sure that when the last flicker of life fades, the demon will be there, waiting to collect the soul you owe.”

  “That doesn’t sound great,” Xlina said, eyes wide.

  “You could head to the church o’ the One God,” Pete continued. “Try fer one o’ them exorcisms.”

  “Do those work?” Xlina asked curiously.

  “No,” Pete replied. “But they’ll speed your soul on its way to its final destination. Get it over nice and quick like.”

  “Pass,” Xlina denied flatly. “There has to be some way to reverse it. Like an undo button.”

  “Undo,” Nick said with a smirk. “If it’s ever been done, then the beings infernal have done their best to keep it secret.”

  The Three Brothers all nodded in unison at Nick’s assessment, leaving Xlina feeling hopeless. What other options presented themselves? Where else could she turn? She needed an expert, a demonologist, someone who was in the know. But how to find such a person?

  “What about a demonologist?” She asked nervously. “Might they know?”

  The brothers’ looks of shock were clear. It was as if she had just asked if the vegans would like a steak for dinner. They looked at each other nervously, wringing their hands. Finally after a moment, Nick and Arthur returned to packing up their wares.

  “Look,” Pete said in a hushed tone as he leaned forward. “Don’t you think you’re in enough trouble without seeking out more?”

  “I’m not saying turn to black magic.” She fidgeted subconsciously picking at a beauty mark on her right wrist in response. “Just that if there were a way, they would be the best shot of knowing.”

  “It’s not the logic that concerns me,” he replied in a serious tone. “It’s the payment for it. How desperate are you?”

  “I wouldn’t do anything bad,” she protested.

 
“Now,” Pete agreed gently. “But what about next year? The year after?”

  “Not ever,” Xlina said definitely.

  “Easy to say now,” Pete countered. “Your pact is still fresh. What about after years of being under the thumb of the infernal? How many times can you have your soul feasted on until the infernal bastard gets to the goodness underneath? How many times can you watch the horrors of your pact being realized before you become desperate enough?”

  “You have seen this happen?” Xlina questioned.

  “Aye, that I have,” Pete said nodding grimly. “Thrice in my adult life, and to fine, upstanding witches. Two of them took the expedited route to handing over the soul.”

  “And the third?” Xlina questioned. “What happened to them?”

  “They got desperate,” he said sourly. “One deal leads to the next. One atrocity begets another, until they fall. Now I don’t know if it was the repeated sniffing of the soul or if somewhere along the way they just started to like the infernal. Either way, they gave in and became full-blown warlocks.”

  He stopped for a moment to spit on the ground, as if the words themselves were a curse. Nick and Arthur followed suit, stopping to spit on the ground, obviously listening to the dire warning closely.

  “Warlock,” Xlina said somberly.

  “Aye,” Pete nodded, spitting on the ground again. “A witch who trades their connection to the Earth Mother for the power infernal.”

  “They can’t use the earth,” Xlina asked.

  “Heavens no,” he said, a quizzical look on his face. “You’d know that if you were a witch.”

  “I’m not,” Xlina confessed. “I’m not a witch.”

  “Not a witch,” he mouthed slowly.

  “My father is Celtic,” She explained quickly. “I am a druid’s daughter.”