Chapter Six
She was confused, to say the least. It seemed a big jump to make with only scant evidence from a few old books. The scepticism must have shown on her face, because he turned the book around and showed her the page he had been reading. Runes were drawn around the edges of the page. There was something that looked like dried blood splattered on a corner. She skimmed the page, finding the old handwriting hard to understand.
As she read the page, she could understand why he was so pleased. The method seemed simple enough, if dangerous. They share a look before he stood to gather the things he needed. Angela cannot name half of them, let alone fathom what they do, but she clears space for him at the desk. He stands by the chair, tilting his head, asking without speaking if she wants it.
She shook her head, instead choosing to get a chair from the kitchen and sit by the other side of the desk. It puts her slightly higher than him, but he doesn't seem to mind. Her eyes roamed across the items she can name, and she wondered if this will turn into a suicide mission for him. She had a bad feeling, one that she can tell he was starting to share.
He doesn't let it put him off mixing the ingredients for the liquid. Looking up, his eyes are so dark she can see herself reflected there. It's only a trick of the light, but for a moment she was mesmerised. Blinking, she looks away, feeling a blush start to spread up her neck into her face. He chooses to ignore it, asking "Can you get me the claw?"
"Sure." She says, leaving the room. The claw lay forgotten on the floor in the bedroom, where it had been dropped the night before. Both of them had been too exhausted to care where it ended up. She bent and picked it up, keeping a layer of paper between it and her skin. It won't hurt her, according to the book, but she's not wiling to take the chance. She turned and went back to the study.
She was just in time to see John raise the sharp silver knife. "NO!" The word tore from her without thought, but the knife blade was still moving across his skin. Absently, she noted that the handle had been tooled and worked into in intricate design. His hand covered most of it, but she could see a few gem stones sparkling in the light.
She never saw the small silver chalice he had placed under his hand to catch the blood, nor the stack of tissues next to him to wrap his finger in. The potion called for blood, and it had to be his. The cut burned as he let it drip. Without taking his eyes off the chalice, he said dryly "You thought I was killing myself again?"
"I… I'm sorry."
A tight smile flashed across his face. "Twice was enough, thank you."
She closed her eyes as she waited for the embarrassment to pass. Opening them, she sat back down, laying the claw onto the table. "What are you doing?"
"I have to anoint the claw in blood." With his other hand, he picked up a few herbs and passed them to her. "Can you pick the leaves off those?"
She recognised a few of them, but not all. They smelt wonderful, and the fragrance only became stronger as she created a pile of leaves in the middle of the table. She laid the bare stalks next to the pile. Her fingers were green and she could still smell Mint and Angelica on her hands.
Satisfied with the amount of blood in the small silver bowl, he grabbed a few tissues and wrapped them tightly around the cut. Without a word, she went to the kitchen and grabbed a plaster from the first aid box. He took it with a smile of thanks and stuck it over the cut. She sat down, watching as he pulled a pestle and mortar from under the table and started grinding the leaves into a paste. It didn't take long before the leaves resembled a thick green paste. He carefully added it to the chalice of blood, mixing it with a tiny silver spoon.
"Can you pass the dried herbs behind you?" He asked. She turned to the shelf and picked the box up. It was surprisingly heavy, and covered in dust.
She passed it to him. He set it on the floor, and opened the lid. The box was crammed with every herb known to man- and a few that weren't. He took out the ones he wanted, before slipping the lid back onto the box.
"They keep longer in the dark." He explained. Each packet was labelled and she read them as he opened them. He saw what she was doing and started to tell her a little about the herbs. It was about time she leant- the knowledge would be useful to her in the future. He suddenly realised that he had so much to teach her, and felt a little worried by the responsibility it bestowed on him.
"Asafoetida powder, used in exorcisms. It's normally burnt, not used in a liquid." He used another tiny sliver spoon to remove a small amount of the light coloured powder, before sealing the bag back up. The powder was pungent, and she could smell it in the air long after he had mixed it into the blood.
He picked up another bag "Betony, as used by the Druids." He used a bigger pinch this time. She could see faint traces of purple in the dried powder and guessed that the herb had flowers. It didn't smell very strong to her, but that could have been because the scent of the mint on her hands was still strong.
"Dragon's Blood, used to increase the potency of the potion." This time, he only used a tiny sprinkle of the dark red powder. It floated on the top of his blood for a second before sinking.
The second last bag was almost empty. He held it up, considering, before opening it. "Myrrh Powder. Shoulda got some more of this. It restrains evil influences and breaks curses." The powder was a rich yellow colour, and it smelt very strongly. He added a small pinch and stirred the blood mixture. She fought an urge to sneeze, worried it would cause problems.
He picked up the last bag. "Solomon's seal. Destroys evil sprits and intensifies the powers of everything else in here." He picked up the spoon again, and added a spoonful of the herb. She expected something to happen, but nothing did. He stirred the mixture, making sure that the ingredients were evenly mixed. A few lumps stuck to the sides and he patiently mashed them into the mixture with the back of the spoon.
"Is that everything?" She asked, curious.
"That's all the herbs we need to add." He checked the book again, even though he knew what he needed to do next. He picked up the claw, suppressing a shudder as he held it, and tipped it out of the bag. He dipped his fingers into the potion, hating the way his blood was still slightly warm, and started to spread it over the claw. His lips moved as he covered the claw, but his voice was too low for her to understand what he was saying. The concentration on his face was stunning. Whatever he was saying, it was taking a lot out of him.
Once the claw was fully covered, he picked up a small brown bottle. It wasn't labelled, and she didn't want to break his concentration by asking what it was. John opened it, counting drops into what was left of the potion. He didn't pour any of the oil onto the claw. From the smell, she would say it was Sandalwood oil.
Suddenly, she felt something building inside of her. She squeezed her eyes closed, gasping for breath as she fought down the panic. The feeling was dread, pure and simple. "It's coming." She announced, though surely he could feel it too. The air felt a little cooler than it had mere seconds ago. Each shadow seemed to have a malevolence that only evil could have.
Feeling a need to move, she stood, pacing as best she could inside of the small room. He watched her without speaking, finishing the spell by dabbing the potion onto both of his hands. Only when it was finished did he go to her, taking hold of both of her arms, just above her elbows. She was tense, muscles taught as she waited for the enemy to appear. He kissed the back of her neck, willing the tension out of her body.
Reaching over, he picked the claw up and led her into the kitchen. She was shocked by how calm he seemed, until she good a good look at his face. He was white. Looking into his eyes, she sensed that he was as scared as she was. He was just hiding it better. There was a battle readiness about him, in the way that he stood and in the way he moved. His normal lithe grace was still there, just tempered with something akin to desperation. He hadn't asked for this fight, but he couldn't wait until it was behind him.
Outside the kitchen window, the clouds have begun to draw closer and lower. It is a sky made out of molten metal and a feeling of menace quickly falls over the area. He stands by the window, watching the people below trying to make it inside before the storm hit. No matter how advanced the human race became, that basic survival instinct would forever be the same.
The sky split, disgorging lightening, spitting rain. It hammered at the window, begging to be in, but the glass held up against the liquid onslaught as it has so many times before. A thunder clap sounded directly overhead, and Angela fought the urge to curl up into a ball and put her hands over her ears. She was really scared now, dread seeping into every cell of her body. Something bad was going to happen and it was going to happen very soon.
Another crack of thunder sounded, this one seeming much closer than the last. She screamed, she couldn't help it. Her body needed the release it provided. His hand found hers, giving her strength as she stood beside him. A blinding flash lit the air in the apartment, forcing both of them to close their eyes. When they opened them, the Agvi king stood in front of them in his full glory. Angela looked away- she couldn't help herself. There was something about that thing that made her want to run screaming.
It opened it's mouth and started to speak. She froze, hand tight enough around his to leave bruises for days after. In that moment, she forgot how to breathe. John was no less terrified than her. To see the face of his death was something he had never imagined would happen. Now, standing only three or four feet away from the demon which had sought him out to destroy, he had to call up every last ounce of courage he had not to run away.
"I've come for you John. I'll finish what Satan could not." It vowed in a voice so deep she felt it in her teeth. She felt John flinch slightly, and something passed from man to woman. He thought that he was going to die. She accepted it with a grace she didn't want to have.
What happened next chilled her more. John smiled, and said flippantly "Lots have said that." He paused "None have won. I doubt you'll be the first."
Soon, Angela would learn that when two giants clash, it didn't matter which one was left standing. Both would be damaged.
But only one would be dead.