Book One: Chapter One:
"Perfect," Imogene said. The headstone was one of the several neglected ones in this section of the graveyard. It was the part of the old section where all of the Indians and slaves were buried. Their families and fellows were long past dead, and now their tombstones were fair game for any passing voodoo priest or priestess, pagan, or maybe like Imogene herself, true witch to rub and collect the resulting dust called gris-a-gris for divination rituals. Imogene was one of those who was born with not only the Sight, but also great abilities of speed and strength along with the power to tame spirits and bring demons under her control. The magick as well, drifting about her beckoning at her command. Her hair was the darkest red, appearing black far away, her skin was a gift from her Creole ancestors, the color of coffee in the sunshine, her stature was small, but she was not delicate, she was voluptuous, her eyes where a shocking emerald with her witch mark shown in her pupil. Toad eyes they were called, pupils that constantly shifted in shape, the true sign of witch blood a carefully guarded secret among the witch families.
"Old Sally died 1845 of consumption." Was all that read on the gravestone. Imogene dug her long fingers into the soil, reaching for the remains of Old Sally asking her to divulge her story to her. The information came as emotions, pictures that Imogene translated into words. She had been a slave, and had escaped and had been taken into a local Indian tribe. She had married and had actually had three children by the tribe shaman. Then typhus had raged through the community, taking everyone but her and another woman named Cheerful deer. She had come to the plantation when the white man had come to remove the bodies and one of them recognized her. She had lived the rest of her life as a nanny for the master's children.
"Such a sad life" Imogene commented. "My mother's ancestors were of your stock, I can only hope I have inherited their strength. I humbly ask for the gris-a gris from your grave." Imogene said, she was very aware of the feelings of the dead, more so than most, for she could see the dead. The answer came, she did not care what happened to the crumbling rock, let it go to some use.
"Thank you." Imogene said and drew out the sand paper and a cloth to catch the dust. Sudennly she felt a presence. Something she had never felt in this cemetery before. 'A demon?' she thought. The only one she had encountered was the angry old man that lived in the old Methodist church, and he wasn't very threatening to her. She stood up; it was coming from the small pond. It was originally had meant to be merely a reflecting pond with granite benches even clustered around it, but it had taken on a dark aura when gangsters in the early sixties had used it as a place to dump bodies. The bodies had long since been cleaned out of course, but the auras of the doomed men still clung. She walked to the edge and looked down upon the clouded, neglected water.
Her reflection was only a dull outline. She stood perfectly still, allowing the sight to take completely over. While she could now see all the forlorn dead that had made the graveyard there home whatever was giving the energy was below the water, Sight is counter acted by water. A shiver ran up her spine, the Sight was warning her that something dangerous was there, it was time to leave. Plenty of demons and lesser monsters held grudges for century and where known to kill a witch for no other reason then some great aunt had tricked them two centuries ago. Some would kill a witch for no other reason than she was simply a witch.
Imogene readjusted her satchel from her left shoulder to her right, and turned her back and started walking away. That is when the demon charged out of the pond, refusing to see its quarry simply walk away. With a roar that shook the ground and sent spirits scattering, it grabbed Imogene by her waist. It was a ghastly creature, twisted and deformed like any demon in its true form; this one had the same symmetry of a human like most demons. The twin horns that sprouted from its head were spiraled like a ram's. The hands ended in claws like an eagles, the feet in flippers, the eyes were a menacing red, the skin was like leather in look and feel, serrated teeth gnashed in a lipless mouth, and two horrid bat like wings that denounced him one of the descendants of one of the fallen angels completed his appearance. For when Imogene looked down upon the naked body, she could see the male parts.
"Witch, one of those who enslaves demons, as she who was called Spirit Seer enslaved me, five hundred years ago in this wretched pond. You are one of her descendants; I can smell her blood within you." He told her.
"So, you will kill me for no other reason than a white ancestor of mine fucked one of hers. Even though Spirit Seer has long since died, such is the thinking of demons." Imogene mocked through gritted teeth even though the demon's grip on her midriff was painful.
"Silence witch! When she sealed me here, I vowed to wrought suffering upon generations of her descendants. I have destroyed two so far, and you my pretty one will be a fine addition." He snarled.
"Then I must warn you," she said as she slipped her hand into her satchel." I will not go without the fight of my life." She drew her anthame, a white handled, six-inch long dagger that she had used during magick making. Witches used them in demon slaying as well, when no sword could be found. With a shriek, she plunged the anthame into the demons neck.
He screamed and backed up and fell into the pond, releasing his hold on Imogene's middle, but grabbed her hair as he fell backward. Imogene pulled the dagger from the demon's neck and plunged into his heart, knowing that it would take even more than that to kill him.
They were now under the water, and Imogene became more fearful of drowning than having the demon kill her. The demon slashed his claws into her chest, and Imogene called on all of her strength not to cry out and seal her fate. In a quick arc the moved the anthame and sliced the demon's hold from her hair. As he cursed her, she powered to the surface and drew in the air her lungs had been burning for. A high-pitched voice in a foreign language caught her attention. She recognized the language as Japanese.
'A child?' Imogene thought, what in the hell was a kid doing here? The demon reached up, grabbed her by her hair, and pulled her back down into the blood-streaked water. The demon may have been bleeding profusely from his own injury but Imogene she was in far greater danger. He was now holding her down, killing her as he had his two other victims, by drowning. Water is very difficult for any witch to battle in, not only is water hard to move through, it holds in energy making it useless. Imogene knew her only hope was if she carried the battle onto land where she might have a chance to retreat. She allowed her body to go limp, and sank her nails into the demons following wound and drew the power that was stored there.
The demon thinking that he had already won by pushing her into unconscious and that all it would take now was the necessary deprival of air. He even slackened his grip, just the opportunity Imogene was waiting for. She arced her body up and threw out the absorbed energy into the demon. He vaulted upwards and she made a mad dash for the shore. The pond was not very deep, but deep enough that her feet did not touch the bottom until she was within five feet of the shore. She could her him clashing through the water behind her and she knew his next blow could be fatal if she did not gain a steady position.
A curving lance of light came from no were and severed the demon's head. Imogene watched in horrified fascination as the body simply fell forward with the head disappearing beneath the dancing water. Then the body gave off the putrid scent of death as it began to dissipate as all demon bodies do.
"The hand." The masculine voice made her jump as she finally tore her eyes from the steaming body. She turned to find a demon standing before her unlike any other she had seen. He had hair like moonshine, marked by magenta stripes, his beautiful hands ended in claws; his garb was striking beautiful and elegant and spoke of great wealth. His face was one of an adult retaining its child softness. He was more pretty than handsome by far, but Imogene still felt attracted. Yet, it was his eyes that Imogene liked the best about his appearance they reminded her of an amber necklace she had inherited from her mother; they were the same warm, golden color. 'More like a son of heaven than a demon.' She decided.
"The hand, the demon's hand it is still clinging to your hair." He said, interrupting her inspection. She pulled her long braid over her shoulder, and indeed, the hand was still wrapped around her hair. She pried the hand out of her hair and held it to her face for inspection. The hand would be of great use to her if she preserved it, the only way to posses such an object was to slay a demon. She pushed it into her drenched satchel that had managed to remain on her shoulder during the struggle.
Suddenly a little girl appeared at his side and said, "You aren't keeping that are you."
Imogene was a student of Japanese. A product of the fact that she hung around Madame Suki's sushi restaurant whether or not she was hungry, and Madame Suki had taken a liking to her. She also spoke French when at home or family, and of course English.
"Yes, demon hands are hard to come by, and have great use at summoning the dead." A sharp pin erupted from her chest reminded her of the hit she had taken. "If this one has not already slain me."
She pressed her torn shirt into the red gashes, hoping it staunch the bleeding if only briefly.
"Oh, you are hurt badly," the little girl said she looked at the demon pleadingly. "Please help her Sesshomaru-sama, like you helped me."
Sesshomaru, now that was a name she had never heard of any demon being called. Ancient Egyptian perhaps? She looked up at the stoic demon again. No, he was no Egyptian. Then she looked beyond him, a little imp was standing by what looked like a two-headed demon who was probably a familiar. The gravestones were gone; in fact, the landscape was completely different. There was a great mountain in the west, and this was a forest, not a swap like the land New Orleans had been built upon. She could feel time running differently, slower less imposing.
"Where am I?' she asked as all began to blur.
"You are in Japan, and in the presence of the great Lord Sesshomaru." The imp answered in a shrill voice.
"Lord?" she wondered. "What type of land is this that a demon rules?" Then all was black and still.
Wow, that was long. Most I have written for one chapter. Okay, now its time to review, because if you don't I don't know whether you're all talking behind my back. Saying stuff like, Oh, my god did you read that one fic by that crazy idiot Shiver? I mean, wasn't it just the most stupid thing you've ever read.O_o Okay, you can say that in a review to, as long as I know someone is reading it. I will vanish back into the shadows now. ^o_o^
"Perfect," Imogene said. The headstone was one of the several neglected ones in this section of the graveyard. It was the part of the old section where all of the Indians and slaves were buried. Their families and fellows were long past dead, and now their tombstones were fair game for any passing voodoo priest or priestess, pagan, or maybe like Imogene herself, true witch to rub and collect the resulting dust called gris-a-gris for divination rituals. Imogene was one of those who was born with not only the Sight, but also great abilities of speed and strength along with the power to tame spirits and bring demons under her control. The magick as well, drifting about her beckoning at her command. Her hair was the darkest red, appearing black far away, her skin was a gift from her Creole ancestors, the color of coffee in the sunshine, her stature was small, but she was not delicate, she was voluptuous, her eyes where a shocking emerald with her witch mark shown in her pupil. Toad eyes they were called, pupils that constantly shifted in shape, the true sign of witch blood a carefully guarded secret among the witch families.
"Old Sally died 1845 of consumption." Was all that read on the gravestone. Imogene dug her long fingers into the soil, reaching for the remains of Old Sally asking her to divulge her story to her. The information came as emotions, pictures that Imogene translated into words. She had been a slave, and had escaped and had been taken into a local Indian tribe. She had married and had actually had three children by the tribe shaman. Then typhus had raged through the community, taking everyone but her and another woman named Cheerful deer. She had come to the plantation when the white man had come to remove the bodies and one of them recognized her. She had lived the rest of her life as a nanny for the master's children.
"Such a sad life" Imogene commented. "My mother's ancestors were of your stock, I can only hope I have inherited their strength. I humbly ask for the gris-a gris from your grave." Imogene said, she was very aware of the feelings of the dead, more so than most, for she could see the dead. The answer came, she did not care what happened to the crumbling rock, let it go to some use.
"Thank you." Imogene said and drew out the sand paper and a cloth to catch the dust. Sudennly she felt a presence. Something she had never felt in this cemetery before. 'A demon?' she thought. The only one she had encountered was the angry old man that lived in the old Methodist church, and he wasn't very threatening to her. She stood up; it was coming from the small pond. It was originally had meant to be merely a reflecting pond with granite benches even clustered around it, but it had taken on a dark aura when gangsters in the early sixties had used it as a place to dump bodies. The bodies had long since been cleaned out of course, but the auras of the doomed men still clung. She walked to the edge and looked down upon the clouded, neglected water.
Her reflection was only a dull outline. She stood perfectly still, allowing the sight to take completely over. While she could now see all the forlorn dead that had made the graveyard there home whatever was giving the energy was below the water, Sight is counter acted by water. A shiver ran up her spine, the Sight was warning her that something dangerous was there, it was time to leave. Plenty of demons and lesser monsters held grudges for century and where known to kill a witch for no other reason then some great aunt had tricked them two centuries ago. Some would kill a witch for no other reason than she was simply a witch.
Imogene readjusted her satchel from her left shoulder to her right, and turned her back and started walking away. That is when the demon charged out of the pond, refusing to see its quarry simply walk away. With a roar that shook the ground and sent spirits scattering, it grabbed Imogene by her waist. It was a ghastly creature, twisted and deformed like any demon in its true form; this one had the same symmetry of a human like most demons. The twin horns that sprouted from its head were spiraled like a ram's. The hands ended in claws like an eagles, the feet in flippers, the eyes were a menacing red, the skin was like leather in look and feel, serrated teeth gnashed in a lipless mouth, and two horrid bat like wings that denounced him one of the descendants of one of the fallen angels completed his appearance. For when Imogene looked down upon the naked body, she could see the male parts.
"Witch, one of those who enslaves demons, as she who was called Spirit Seer enslaved me, five hundred years ago in this wretched pond. You are one of her descendants; I can smell her blood within you." He told her.
"So, you will kill me for no other reason than a white ancestor of mine fucked one of hers. Even though Spirit Seer has long since died, such is the thinking of demons." Imogene mocked through gritted teeth even though the demon's grip on her midriff was painful.
"Silence witch! When she sealed me here, I vowed to wrought suffering upon generations of her descendants. I have destroyed two so far, and you my pretty one will be a fine addition." He snarled.
"Then I must warn you," she said as she slipped her hand into her satchel." I will not go without the fight of my life." She drew her anthame, a white handled, six-inch long dagger that she had used during magick making. Witches used them in demon slaying as well, when no sword could be found. With a shriek, she plunged the anthame into the demons neck.
He screamed and backed up and fell into the pond, releasing his hold on Imogene's middle, but grabbed her hair as he fell backward. Imogene pulled the dagger from the demon's neck and plunged into his heart, knowing that it would take even more than that to kill him.
They were now under the water, and Imogene became more fearful of drowning than having the demon kill her. The demon slashed his claws into her chest, and Imogene called on all of her strength not to cry out and seal her fate. In a quick arc the moved the anthame and sliced the demon's hold from her hair. As he cursed her, she powered to the surface and drew in the air her lungs had been burning for. A high-pitched voice in a foreign language caught her attention. She recognized the language as Japanese.
'A child?' Imogene thought, what in the hell was a kid doing here? The demon reached up, grabbed her by her hair, and pulled her back down into the blood-streaked water. The demon may have been bleeding profusely from his own injury but Imogene she was in far greater danger. He was now holding her down, killing her as he had his two other victims, by drowning. Water is very difficult for any witch to battle in, not only is water hard to move through, it holds in energy making it useless. Imogene knew her only hope was if she carried the battle onto land where she might have a chance to retreat. She allowed her body to go limp, and sank her nails into the demons following wound and drew the power that was stored there.
The demon thinking that he had already won by pushing her into unconscious and that all it would take now was the necessary deprival of air. He even slackened his grip, just the opportunity Imogene was waiting for. She arced her body up and threw out the absorbed energy into the demon. He vaulted upwards and she made a mad dash for the shore. The pond was not very deep, but deep enough that her feet did not touch the bottom until she was within five feet of the shore. She could her him clashing through the water behind her and she knew his next blow could be fatal if she did not gain a steady position.
A curving lance of light came from no were and severed the demon's head. Imogene watched in horrified fascination as the body simply fell forward with the head disappearing beneath the dancing water. Then the body gave off the putrid scent of death as it began to dissipate as all demon bodies do.
"The hand." The masculine voice made her jump as she finally tore her eyes from the steaming body. She turned to find a demon standing before her unlike any other she had seen. He had hair like moonshine, marked by magenta stripes, his beautiful hands ended in claws; his garb was striking beautiful and elegant and spoke of great wealth. His face was one of an adult retaining its child softness. He was more pretty than handsome by far, but Imogene still felt attracted. Yet, it was his eyes that Imogene liked the best about his appearance they reminded her of an amber necklace she had inherited from her mother; they were the same warm, golden color. 'More like a son of heaven than a demon.' She decided.
"The hand, the demon's hand it is still clinging to your hair." He said, interrupting her inspection. She pulled her long braid over her shoulder, and indeed, the hand was still wrapped around her hair. She pried the hand out of her hair and held it to her face for inspection. The hand would be of great use to her if she preserved it, the only way to posses such an object was to slay a demon. She pushed it into her drenched satchel that had managed to remain on her shoulder during the struggle.
Suddenly a little girl appeared at his side and said, "You aren't keeping that are you."
Imogene was a student of Japanese. A product of the fact that she hung around Madame Suki's sushi restaurant whether or not she was hungry, and Madame Suki had taken a liking to her. She also spoke French when at home or family, and of course English.
"Yes, demon hands are hard to come by, and have great use at summoning the dead." A sharp pin erupted from her chest reminded her of the hit she had taken. "If this one has not already slain me."
She pressed her torn shirt into the red gashes, hoping it staunch the bleeding if only briefly.
"Oh, you are hurt badly," the little girl said she looked at the demon pleadingly. "Please help her Sesshomaru-sama, like you helped me."
Sesshomaru, now that was a name she had never heard of any demon being called. Ancient Egyptian perhaps? She looked up at the stoic demon again. No, he was no Egyptian. Then she looked beyond him, a little imp was standing by what looked like a two-headed demon who was probably a familiar. The gravestones were gone; in fact, the landscape was completely different. There was a great mountain in the west, and this was a forest, not a swap like the land New Orleans had been built upon. She could feel time running differently, slower less imposing.
"Where am I?' she asked as all began to blur.
"You are in Japan, and in the presence of the great Lord Sesshomaru." The imp answered in a shrill voice.
"Lord?" she wondered. "What type of land is this that a demon rules?" Then all was black and still.
Wow, that was long. Most I have written for one chapter. Okay, now its time to review, because if you don't I don't know whether you're all talking behind my back. Saying stuff like, Oh, my god did you read that one fic by that crazy idiot Shiver? I mean, wasn't it just the most stupid thing you've ever read.O_o Okay, you can say that in a review to, as long as I know someone is reading it. I will vanish back into the shadows now. ^o_o^