Goetic Justice 6

Chapter 6: Breaking Chains

The hooded figure walked through the forest, fallen leaves crunching and twigs snapping underfoot, the naked branches of the trees reaching upwards like grasping fingers. It was dark save for the light of the waxing moon, the sky clear and velvet black, cold stars twinkling in the heavens as he clambered over gnarled roots and made his way deeper into the woods.

The forest was thick, and there was a mist that hung over it, making it hard to see much further than a few feet in any direction. He stopped at a tree, placing a gloved hand on the trunk and drawing a penknife from the pocket of his jacket. He stabbed it into the bark, carving a symbol into the wood, large and prominent. It was a pattern of crossed lines and small circles, a demonic sigil. When he was finished, he moved on to another tree. It was hard going, his breath freezing into a mist as it left his lips, his features obscured beneath the dark hood.

Over the course of an hour, he had carved them into dozens of trees, maybe a hundred. Everywhere the same symbol appeared, only varying in its size. When he reached a clearing in the dense woodland, he pulled a rucksack from his back, kneeling and rummaging through it in search of something. He drew a large, camouflaged block from the bag, and secured it around one of the trees with a belt so that it faced towards the clearing. He fiddled with the device for a minute, and then stepped back to examine it, apparently satisfied.

The task complete, he returned to the rucksack and withdrew an armful of rectangular metal plates, each roughly the size and shape of a paperback book. He walked about the clearing and the surrounding area, scattering them everywhere, that same sigil etched on each of them.

He returned to the rucksack once again, this time unzipping one of the pockets and pulling out a blood pack. The crimson liquid shone in the moonlight, and he used his knife to pop a hole in the clear plastic, handling it gingerly so as not to spill any on his clothes. He walked around the circumference of the clearing, splashing blood on the trunks of the trees, careful to coat the sigils that he had carved there. When he was satisfied he squeezed the rest of it onto the soil, as the ground was mostly clear of dead leaves in the absence of trees.

He stowed the empty plastic pack in his rucksack and then headed off into the forest once again, this time scouring the ground and brushing aside the foliage as he searched the undergrowth. He found what he was looking for, appropriately sized rocks, and carried the ones that he selected to the center of the clearing where he deposited them in a haphazard pile.

Once he had collected what looked to be enough, he began to lay them out, creating a rough circle in the clearing about ten feet across. He pulled a measuring tape from his pocket and extended it, judging the size to be correct, and then retracted it with a click.

He picked up a stick and walked around the rock circle, drawing lines in the dirt, tracing out concentric rings and then moving on to drawing pentagrams and triangles. After walking back over to his pack he withdrew a leather-bound book, referencing the drawings within to ensure that he had gotten everything right. He stowed it and withdrew a large bag of table salt, cutting a small tear in it with his pocket knife. He filled in the ruts that he had made in the soil with salt, and before long the summoning circle had taken shape, its details standing out white against the black dirt.

He crouched and began to fill in the sigils and incantations, swirling Hebrew script and arcane runes, pausing every few seconds to reference his book and make sure that his reproductions were accurate. He must have been there for two or three hours when the procedure was finally over, standing in the middle of his salt summoning circle, the carefully traced shapes and text glowing in the pale moonlight. It looked like a scene from a horror movie, or at least what a layman might assume an occult ritual would look like, and that was just the way he wanted it.

He leaned against a gnarled tree, getting as comfortable as possible in its tangled roots, then crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

xxxxx

Nahash materialized, her physical manifestation forming from the swirling mists and becoming solid, her cloven hooves meeting soft dirt underfoot as she came to stand on material ground. She opened her ovine eyes, blinking as her surroundings came into focus. It was dark, the environment lit only by the light of the moon, her pale skin and white fur reflecting it like a beacon as she turned her head to look around. She was in a clearing, thick forest closing in on her from all sides, mist hanging low over the ground as she felt the cool night air on her face.

This was her domain, a sense of déja-vu overcoming her, a kind of primal recognition sparking in her mind as she gazed at the tree line. She had not visited woodland for thousands of years, and yet the scents and sounds were all immediately familiar to her, the chirping of insects and the smell of plants and soil bringing old memories flooding back.

She wanted to break loose, to dance through these woods and vanish between the trees, the wilds calling to her with an almost irresistible intensity that rang in her head like a bell.

Those days were long over, however. With a heavy heart, she resisted the powerful urges, turning her attention to the task that her master had given her.

Where was Ryan? This was not his apartment. She could hear the sounds of the city in the distance, but it was faint and far away. She looked down to examine the summoning circle beneath her feet, drawn in the soil and filled in with salt. It was impeccably reproduced, at least considering the crude method employed, far better than the one that Ryan had drawn on his floorboards in chalk. She noticed some irregularities, there was no triangle for the summoner to stand in and no containment triangle for protecting the exorcist from uncooperative spirits. This could not have been used for summoning, it was merely acting as a gate, drawing in the ambient magickal energy in the environment and concentrating it here.

It felt good, this was a place where nature ruled, and the magick was strong.

She saw a hooded figure across the clearing, he had been resting in the roots of one of the naked trees as he had watched her materialize, and now he stood to remove his hood. It was Ryan, and he walked over to greet her.

“Ryan?” Nahash asked. “What is the meaning of this? Why are we in a forest?”

“I wasn’t sure that it would work,” he replied, walking around the edge of the circle with his hands in his pockets as he admired his handiwork. “I figured that wherever I decided to sleep, Orobas would send you, provided that there was a circle here to offset the energy cost of course. Looks like I was right.”

“This circle was not designed for summoning rituals,” she mused, “did you go to the trouble of making it just to bring me here? Why?”

“That’s right. After you left earlier today, I went on a little drive. I visited a few stores to buy the supplies that I needed. After all, I don’t have to worry about money anymore thanks to you. I searched for woodland that was remote, and yet reasonably accessible from the city. We’re right on the edge of a national park, you know. Not many people come through here, but there are hikers and nature lovers who do, and I ensured that this clearing would be close enough to the trail that campers or hunters might stumble across it.”

“Ryan, what are you doing?” Nahash asked. She sounded confused and somewhat alarmed. “Whatever this is, it isn’t part of your contract with Orobas.”

“No, it isn’t,” he replied as he came to a stop and looked up at her. “This is something that I’m doing of my own volition. I’ve been paying attention to what you’ve told me. I’ve listened when you’ve talked about sigils and the power of faith, the way that magickal energy is created and distributed.”

Nahash sniffed the cool air, smelling blood and metal, her amber eyes widening.

“What have you done? You are but a novice, Ryan. If you seek to summon a more powerful demon or to make a game of powers that are far beyond your control, you risk inviting a terrible fate.”

“Even I know enough that I wouldn’t attempt to summon a demon without wards or a containment triangle, you give me too little credit Nahash. Look more closely, and tell me what you see.”

She shot him a worried glance, then marched out of the circle, following the scents as they brought her to the edge of the forest. There were sigils carved into the trees, splashed with animal blood, from a pig by the smell of it. Her hoof hit a metal plate that was discarded on the ground, inscribed with that same symbol.

“This is the sigil of Azazel,” she said, placing a hand against the tree trunk and feeling the rough bark beneath her palm.

“That’s correct, Azazel is the chief of the Seirim if I’m not mistaken, and the closest thing that your kind have to a deity. When people come here, and they will, they will find these sigils carved into the trees and the summoning circle drawn in the clearing. They’ll see the blood, they’ll find the metal plates, and they’ll take them back with them. Before the week is through, hundreds, maybe thousands of people will have seen the sigil, and these plates will be circulating throughout the state. It will be on the local news, pictures of the trees and the plates will be all over the internet, this country loves a good Satanic panic and word of this will spread like wildfire.”

“You seek to empower Azazel, and through him … me,” Nahash whispered.

“Not only that, but I’m starting a new myth here. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bigfoot. There are so many cryptids in this country, they capture the imagination of the public, some people dedicate their whole lives to investigating them. Tell me, is that not a form of worship? Are the myths of Bigfoot or the Chupacabra not widespread and pervasive enough to fuel a small tribe of spirits such as the Seirim?”

She turned her goat-like head to stare at him, her yellow eyes reflecting the light of the moon like those of a cat.

“These woods are now haunted, and what’s more, I have video evidence.” He pointed to the camouflaged box that was tied around a nearby tree trunk. “I’ve got trail cam footage of a goat demon appearing from thin air, and it’s going to be all over video sharing websites before the sunrise. Even if people don’t believe that it’s genuine they’ll argue at length over its validity, they’ll spend hours trying to figure out if and how it was faked so convincingly. The video will have millions of views by the end of the month.”

Ryan stood defiantly in the center of the summoning circle, his hands planted firmly on his hips, announcing his intentions to the forest as Nahash looked on in quiet awe of him.

“I just engineered a fucking media sensation, you’re going viral. Every person who sees one of these sigils, every person who believes that this is real, will feed you more magickal energy than you’ve seen in five thousand years.”

“You did all of this … for me? Why?”

“You asked me why I turned down the woman who gave me her number at the interview today. Let’s just say that over the past few days I’ve developed a thing for … older women.”

Ryan had no idea if she would return his affections, or if spirits were even capable of romantic love. But even if she didn’t reciprocate, she still deserved this. This supposedly evil creature had been kinder and more considerate towards him than anyone that he had ever met. She deserved to be free, and if Ryan was to get his wish fulfilled then so should she, it was only fair.

She blinked at him for a moment as she stood at the edge of the clearing, and then in a flash, she crossed the distance between them on her long legs. She wrapped her arms around him and lifted him clear off the ground as if he weighed no more than a doll. She squeezed him against her soft bust, hugging him tight against her body, and pressed her lips against his.

Sparks fizzled in his brain as her tongue pushed into his mouth, its exaggerated size surprising him, her kiss desperate and unbridled. The large organ explored him, smooth and sinuous as it bulged his cheeks and wrestled with his own, its tapered tip tickling the back of his throat and sending pleasant shivers rolling down his spine. It was a kiss like no other, deeper and more fervent than anything that he had experienced before, as if she was pouring her love for him into every impassioned glance.

His eyes closed of their own accord, the copper taste of her saliva pricking his taste buds as he let himself melt into her. If his arms had not been trapped against his sides by her bear hug, he would have delved his fingers into the soft mane of fur that adorned her neck and shoulders. The warmth of her body permeated his clothing in the cold autumn air, her arms gripping him tightly, the heat of their joined flesh making his head spin. Their embrace was wanton and urgent, almost panicked, all of the tension and unspoken desires that had built up over their time together bubbling to the surface with the intensity of an erupting volcano.

Her familiar scent rose to his nose, alluring and earthy, and he finally realized what it was. She smelled of the forest, of dew-soaked grass and soil, the aroma of nature itself.

Their embrace dragged on, her kiss becoming more gentle and placating, the slow brushes of her powerful tongue easing low sighs from his lips. Stars danced before his eyes, his heart hammering in his chest with such intensity that he feared it might burst. He couldn’t focus on anything besides the sensation of her slippery tongue as it roiled in his mouth like a fleshy snake.

She finally pulled back with a wet smack, her lips linked to his by a strand of saliva that glistened in the light of the waxing moon, those amber eyes glowing through the gloom of the forest like hot coals.

She placed him gently back on his feet, Ryan gripping her forearm as he stood unsteadily on weak knees, dazed from her impromptu kiss. Fireflies hovered around the circle as if they were somehow drawn to the Seirim, floating on the breeze like motes of dust, their ghostly lights blinking in a beautiful display.

“Of all the things that I have seen in my time, you surprise me the most,” she said as a smile curled her lips.

“S-So what happens now?” Ryan asked, his cheeks flushed as he craned his neck to look up at her.

“If what you say is true, then Azazel’s power will grow, and the power of the Seirim along with it. We are born from him, we are his children in a manner of speaking, but the tribes have been scattered to the winds. Azazel can no longer support us, and so the Seirim must subsist on the energy of more prominent demons. He will wake from hibernation, and when he does, he will rally his people to him. If you succeed in starting your myth, then they will all be drawn here. If enough people believe, then this forest will become our home. We will dance under the moonlight once again.”

“I meant more along the lines of … what happens now between you and me?”

“For the moment, I am still bound to Orobas, and I must do his bidding.” She leaned down closer to him, crouching so that her lips were an inch from his ear, her husky voice low and seductive. “But once I am free to do as I please, there is no ward that will keep me from you.”

He swallowed conspicuously, her smile turning wry, then she stood and looked to the sky.

“The hour is late. If you should wish to sleep, then do it soon.”

“Guess I was awake all night setting this whole thing up. We probably shouldn’t stick around here very long, if some early morning jogger comes across me, then it’ll blow the whole plan. I’ll start making my way back towards the car. I guess you can’t walk with me?”

“Not yet,” she said, “but soon I will no longer be confined to the circle. I will meet you at the apartment.” He started to walk away, but saw her hesitate, the giant demon looking oddly sheepish. “And Ryan … thank you.”

She faded into the mist, Ryan stopping to retrieve his camouflaged camera, then he picked up his rucksack and set off down the trail.

THE END OF CHAPTER SIX