April 3, 2006
Mary checked over her supplies, grateful that the rituals were both fairly simple. She had stressed to her uncle that she would be working alone and that time was of the essence.
It had been an awkward conversation, apologies and explanations, but she had come away from it with the information she needed, two rituals, a binding and a banishing that should cleanse the house.
The first was the more complicated of the two, requiring a sigil drawn at each compass point, and candles lit between each pair. She'd practiced each one until she could draw them quickly from memory. Once the binding was completed, she could safely perform the banishing. Until then, she'd be in danger of attack should the poltergeist deduce what she was up to.
The basement, she had decided was the best place to work. Chalked sigils could be easily washed from the concrete floor, destroying the evidence of what had transpired. She read over her notes, step by step, packing each item into a box as she came to it. Once she began she would have to work fast, no returning upstairs for anything carelessly left behind.
Such were the risks of hunting alone. Uncle Robert had offered to come, but she had insisted that this needed to be done today. She didn't have the luxury of waiting for him to come from out of state. She'd promised to call again when it was all over and check in.
Finally satisfied that she was as prepared as she was going to get she picked up the box holding her inventoried tools and supplies and headed downstairs.
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The basement was stacked with dusty boxes of various sizes, filled with memories and clutter. The dim light of a single bare bulb didn't so much vanquish the darkness as beat it back into the corners, where it pooled up and became even deeper.
Mary's heart rate quickened a bit. She had never wanted to do this again. Her hesititation lasted only a second or two before she snatched up the salt and began laying out the circle. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could forget all about this and go back to pretending that everything was normal.
The circle finished she checked quickly around herself. So far, everything seemed quiet. Encouraged, she began the first sigil. Skitters and scratches sounded from the darkness beyond the pale circle of light.
Mary paused, listening into the dark, trying to assess whether the sound was spiritual in origin or echos of the chalk against the concrete. The scratching seemed to have stopped. She went back to work. She paused again when the sounds returned. This time they continued on, taking on an almost mocking sort of air.
She cursed under her breathe, quickening her hand. She'd hoped for more time before discovery. The chalk clacked and scraped on the concrete as she hastened to finish her task.
Outside the circle, a pile of aged boxes began to tremble, rattling threateningly as she worked to get the final sigil completed. She was just finishing the last mark when she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye and she threw herself aside, barely avoiding the box that flew through the space where her body had been.
Determined, she crawled back towards the circle, now broken, scuffed by her evasive move. She just had to get the candles in place and lit, then three words of Latin ad she'd be safe.
Overhead, the bare bulb flickered, casting the room into intermittent darkness, like a flash of lightning in reverse. Ominous shadows danced macabrely in the sporadic light.
The bulb exploded violently, allowing the dark to escape the corners and rush to refill the room. Unable to see Mary jammed her hand into her pocket fishing for the book of matches she had thankfully carried there, instead of in the box of supplies. She may be thirty years rusty, but her instincts weren't completely dead. That thought gave her hope. With shaky hands, she struck a match. The scant light of the the single small flame carved a circle out of the darkness.
By the minimal light, she located one of the candles and touched the flame to the wick. The match was well burnt down by that time. By the time the wick took the flame the match was so short that her thumb nail singed. The unpleasant smell of burnt keratin reached her nose. Ignoring it she placed the candle and went digging after the next. 'Relligo malum spiritus' played in her head like a mantra as she struggled towards the moment that she could speak the words and get the poltergeist locked down.
She got the second candle lit and placed, was reaching for the third when she felt the chill of an unseen hand on the back of her collar. Before she could react she was flung backward, coming to rest in a crumpled heap against the wall she had crashed into.
She tried to rise but found herself pinned in place. Urgent, desperate sounds escaped her throat as she struggled futilely against the invisible force. Inwardly she cursed herself as a fool for not having reclosed the circle first thing.
A soft squeak of metal against metal drew her attention upwards in search of the source of the sound. The candlelight was barely enough for her to make out the sight of the broken off base of the shattered light bulb rotating in the socket. Able to see where this was going she renewed her frantic struggle against the force that held her.
The broken bulb freed itself from the socket and drifted towards her, rotating in its flight, angling the jagged shards in her direction. She watched, eyes filling with horror as the sharp points closed the distance with her face.
Desperately she tried to turn away in an effort to protect her eyes, but she was held fast.
Her heart pounded when the sharp glass touched her cheek. She braced herself for the pain but instead of slicing into her flesh the jagged glass scratched across the skin of her cheek, laying a course for her right eye. She made a frightened whimper and closed her eyes in a useless attempt to protect them.
Without preamble, a force like a sudden high wind shot past her. The room filled with the sound of canine anger. The bulb base was knocked flying and she felt herself suddenly free.
Sparing no time on her confusion she scrambled forward, back towards the remnants of the salt circle. Behind her a stack of boxes toppled violently, the contents scattering across the floor.
Back in the circle Mary grabbed up the salt and reclosed it around herself. Outside the boundary, the invisible battle raged loudly. Working quickly she got the remaining candles lit and placed, the word of the evocation on her lips as she was placing the last one.
The room fell silent.
With the poltergeist bound the banishing ritual went smoothly and without incident, for which she could not have been more grateful. It was over. Her breathes were heavy. Her pulse pounded in her head causing a rushing sound in her ears. She couldn't be sure with her distorted hearing, but as she climbed the stairs, she thought she might have heard the click of canine nails beside her.