| Feature Short Story |
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| Something You’re Not Using By Antoinette McCormick This was not supposed to happen. Lucy Gimble stared slack-jawed at the man inside the circle. Her ritual circle. The one that had taken her nearly two hours to cast on her bedroom floor. The man – although man-shaped thing, she decided, was probably more appropriate – sitting cross-legged in the center of her carefully crafted circle, wore khaki cargo shorts, flip-flops, and an orange Hawaiian print shirt that barely contained his protruding paunch. His thin, white goatee, which he was now trying to smooth into a point with his stubby fingers, matched the shock of hair on his head in both color and scarcity. His face, while ruddy-cheeked and full-lipped, had no discernible neck, only fleshy cowls between the spot where his chin should have been and his shoulders. Lucy glanced at her computer. The instructions from Wicca Wonderfall’s free spell section were still on its screen and there was nothing in them about the sudden appearance of man-shaped things. Or about them smelling like rotten eggs, for that matter. Stuff like this only happened in horror movies. Bad ones. Lucy flopped on her bed and groaned. “Hey, could you turn on a light?” The man-thing squinted at her over the ring of candles. “I like to see who’s summoning me.” Lucy reached for the lamp on her nightstand. “I didn’t summon you.” “I’m afraid you did, kiddo,” the man-thing said huskily. Blinking, he looked about the room. “Purple, eh? Odd choice for a bedroom… Hello, little lady,” he said, as his gaze fell upon a drawing tacked to the bedroom door. He looked over his shoulder at her. “Hey, did you do that?” “That, and those behind you.” As he spun around on his bottom to look, Lucy said, “They’re part of my ‘Lost Soul’ series.” “Nice graveyards – very misty – and I do love redheads.” Pivoting back, he winked at her. “You’ve got some real talent there, kiddo.” “Not enough to get a scholarship. They said my work was ‘autobiographical and derivative’ – I guess because of this.” She pulled back the hood of her thin, black top, and a tangle of long, auburn curls fell past her shoulders. “Bastards. I’d want revenge, too.” The candles quavered as the man-thing heaved himself to his feet. “Good thing you summoned me.” Lucy threw her hands in the air. “For the last time, I didn’t summon you.” He scratched his head. “You cast a spell to produce a demon, Red.” “No,” Lucy said. “I cast a spell to produce eudaimonia.” “Say what?” Lucy crossed her arms. “You-day-ee-moan-ee-ah,” she said sulkily. “It’s supposed to produce perfect happiness, health, and prosperity, not—” She waved in his direction. “No offense. It’s… I think you’re sitting on it.” “None taken,” he said, pulling a scrap of lavender paper out from beneath his buttock. He glanced at it. “There’s your first mistake. It’s pronounced ‘you-day- moan-ee-ah.’ You stuck an extra something you didn’t need in there.” “Okay, so my Latin’s lousy.” “It’s Greek.” “Whatever.” “Oh, man! My buddies are gonna love this!” His belly shook as he laughed. “Figures.” Turning away, Lucy buried her face in her hands. “Aw, c’mon, I didn’t mean it.” He started to reach across the circle for her, but the air around it shimmered and slightly buckled beneath his touch. Goggle- eyed, he dropped the paper and gawped at the crying girl. Finally, he said, “Please don’t, I hate it when you humans leak.” Lucy’s sniffle ended in a snort. “Leak?” Wiping her eyes, she turned back to him. “That’s better.” He beamed at her. “You know, I don’t understand why a pretty, little thing like you’s messing with this cockamamie spell crap at all.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he raised his hand. “Because it is crap. Health, wealth, happiness – you don’t need a frigging spell for that. What’s your name, kid?” “Lucy.” She wiped her nose on her shirtsleeve. “Lucy Gimble.” “Lucy. That’s a lovely name, my favorite name, in fact.” The demon’s black eyes glinted. “Mine’s Josh.” “Josh?” Now it was Lucy’s turn to laugh. “That’s the closest thing to it in English.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t translate well, and even if it did, pronunciation isn’t exactly your strong suit. Where’d you get the spell, Lucy?” “Here.” She reached for the laptop on her desk. “It was free. Now I know why.” As she angled it so he could see, the feathery script on its screen flickered. “Sorry my connection’s so lousy,” she said. “No problem. Not much of a prep list,” he said, scanning the instructions. Then his face clouded. “This says to cast one ring of fire. Why’d you make three, different circles?” “Well, since eudaimonia’s really three things, I thought…” She reached for a green, googly-eyed, plush object that looked like a large pillow with tentacles at the foot of her bed and pulled it on her lap. “A spell’s just like a recipe—” “No. It’s not.” He shook his head. “Damn.” She hugged her toy. “Well, look on the bright side, Lucy.” He straightened. “As ritual circles go, this one’s a Cadillac – a – a Lexus! You added salt for containment…protection.” He nodded at the mounded clumps in the innermost arc. “You didn’t skimp on it, either. Then you have…” He cocked his head at her. “Is that glitter?” “Not glitter.” Lucy giggled. “Magick Dust. It’s there.” She indicated an advertisement in a sidebar on the computer screen. “Hunh.” Josh pulled at his goatee. “I didn’t know magic ended in k.” “They sell it for…” Her face fell. “What?” “Luck.” She groaned. “Well, you are lucky, Lucy,” Josh said. “Lucky I was standing by Hell’s spell- tracker when you cast yours into the wind; lucky it was me who answered your call and not one of my buddies. Like him.” He pointed at Lucy’s toy. “No one can pronounce his name and it really pisses him off.” “Oh.” Lucy threw the toy in her laundry hamper. “These are nice.” He pointed to the outermost circle of nine candles of varying shapes, sizes, and colors. “Virgin, yes?” “What?” Lucy’s cheeks flushed. “Well, technically…” One hand began worrying a leather cord around her neck. She pulled something out of her shirt. “Not you, the candles,” said Josh. His chuckle became a cough when he saw the silver talisman on the cord. “Crap.” Bedsprings squeaked as she rose. “I couldn’t even get that right.” Floorboards creaked as she shuffled to the edge of the candlelit ring. The largest, a stout, white pillar with three wicks, was within kicking distance. Lucy flexed her bare foot, but then decided against adding a second-degree burn and a possible house fire to her ‘Stupid Things I Did Today’ list. Instead, she clasped the pendant between her hands and looked up at Josh. “What should I do?” He scratched his head. “Well, call me an old softie, but as long as I’m stuck here, I might’s well help you out, ‘do you a solid,’ as you kids say. So, what’ll it be?” She shrugged and began rubbing one point of her pendant along her lower lip. Josh winced as it flashed in the firelight. “Everyone wants something, Lucy. I can give you anything you want and without all this hocus-pocus, stick-a-wish- in-a-ring-of-light-so-mot-it-be hoop-dee-doo. If you want revenge on those jerks at school, I can bury ‘em in an avalanche; if it’s boyfriend trouble, I can turn your ‘defriend’ button on Facebook into a weapon.” Leaning in, he whispered, “A lethal weapon, if you get my drift. He’ll never know what hit him.” “Kind of extreme, don’t you think?” She let the pendant fall between her breasts. “Besides, I don’t have a…” She looked away. “Well, how about money? Prosperity was on your eudaimonia list.” Lucy paced between her bed and the door. “You say it’s a favor now, Josh, but later, you’ll want my first-born or my soul or something.” “I have no use for babies – or souls.” Josh’s flip-flops slip-slapped against the floorboards as he followed her from inside the circle. “A soul used to be worth something, but these days, people will leap from temptation to damnation faster than you can say ‘Jersey Shore.’ He waved at the computer screen. “Sure, it’s fun to watch, but…” He shrugged. “Of course, if a trade would make you feel better…” She nodded. “The only thing I really want right now is to forget this ever happened.” “Gotcha.” He winked. “Okay, now all you have to do is give me something…” He turned to the drawing on Lucy’s bedroom door. “Something…” Still turning, now with his back to her, he regarded the sketches on the far wall. “Something…” he said, stretching each syllable into singsong infinity until his revolution brought them face to face again. His bead-black eyes flicked to the burgeoning shadows on the computer screen for just a fraction of a second before he finally said, “Something you’re not using.” “Does this count? I definitely won’t be using it anymore.” She removed the necklace and dangled it between them. “A triquetra?” Bug-eyed, he backed away, waving his hands. “Not really a fan of His.” “His?” She scowled. “It came with my Magick Dust.” “Did it? Well, either way, demon, remember?” “Right.” She tossed it on the bed. “Sorry.” Beside her, sheet lightning flared on the computer screen. “Don’t worry, it’ll come to you. Something…” The corners of his mouth curved up, revealing two rows of small, square teeth. “I don’t know, Josh.” Lucy turned to the window. Outlined in wavering candlelight, the ghost of her reflection peered back at her through night’s mirror. Josh’s crescent grin hovered just above her shoulder like a Cheshire cat moon. She shuddered. “Couldn’t you just… leave?” “You brought me—” “By accident!” She stamped her foot. Behind her, something rattled on the desk. “—so only you can—” “I’m sorry, okay?” She stared at the window. Was it just her imagination, or was that feral grin of his getting bigger? “—release me.” Her reflection disappeared. Hands, hot and heavy, squeezed her shoulders. Lucy gasped. “Now, about that thing you’re not using,” his voice purred in her ear, but his leathery fingers, as they traced the line of her face to her jaw, left judders of cold fear in their wake. She turned. “H-h-how did you—” Callused palms, as they cupped her face, forced her to gaze into the obsidian wells of his eyes. “It’s such a little thing.” Her tongue felt like a stone in the dry well of her mouth. She could barely say her next word, “What?” “This.” Strong hands wrenched Lucy’s head to one side, snapping her neck in a single, sickening crack. Then, with a series of violent jerks and twists, tore it from her shoulders with a meaty ‘pop.’ Blood arced like a fountain from the gaping wound. Spewing gobbets of flesh and bone, what was left of Lucy’s body fell to the floor. Fisting her hair, Josh lifted Lucy’s head to eye level. “I told you it’d come to you.” He sneered. On the computer screen, two horned, yellow-eyed, bat-winged creatures clapped and cheered. “Cut! That’s a wrap, Josh,” said one, whose scales had an iridescent shimmer. “You were brilliant.” “Well, your idea of using the Wicca site as a lure was pure genius, brother,” said Josh. “I can’t wait for this episode to hit YouTube.” “Best reality show on Earth,” said the smaller and more reptilian of the two in a reedy voice, “For a moment, I thought she had you with that amulet.” “Yeah,” Josh said wryly, “about that, Pops…” “I thought slipping a little something into her shipment of Magick Dust might give her a little edge. The look on your face was priceless.” He cackled. Josh snorted. “I should’ve known.” “Oh, don’t be such a sorehead.” He waggled a warning talon. “It wasn’t much of a challenge this time, but as you so aptly said earlier, it sure’s fun to watch!” |
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