I wish I could say it was an accident. But that’s a lie. I wanted maximum damage, and I knew of only one way to get it. Well, seven ways that just happened to fall at my feet. The entire thing was one big clusterfuck of epic proportions, but they started it. They started it.
It was a blustery winter’s day, and there was nothing to buffer me from the frigid ocean wind as I exited my vintage Honda Civic Hatchback. Except for the house. The two-story Tudor, with its column chimney, warm brick, exposed beam facade, and stained-glass windows, was my great-grandfather’s idea of a joke. An on-the-nose one at that, considering it resembled something out of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. A home that witches could be proud of.
And I was a proud Hazel witch, one who had finally gotten tired of the rest of the Hazel clan dicking me around. The house was my birthright, same as theirs but, unlike those other stick-up-their ass pricks, I actually wanted it. I had the fondest memories of that house. Ones where my grandfather told us outlandish tales about making deals with devils, doors to hell, and the standard ritual space in the basement.
My other great inheritance had annoyed the piss out of me the whole way here. It sat on the passenger seat of my car, buckled in for safety, and hummed in an annoyingly intermittent way. The brilliant red stone was opaque, the size of a small boulder, and wouldn’t shut up. When I opened the package it arrived in, I had snorted at my grandfather’s magic all over it. The note inside had only read: “It’s time.”
After that, I was motivated. I broke my lease. Sold or gave away all my shit. Packed what was left in my little beater, and drove to the only place I had ever considered home. There was lots to do, especially if I wanted to hold what was mine. Once word got out that I was back, my brother and sister would show up, whining about how I had to do this or that. Blah, blah, blah. Worse would be my grandmother. That old bitch was never going to die. I was pretty sure she had a covenant to that effect with some demon she opened the door for. Boy, must it grate that I was the only grandchild to inherit that magical skill. The other, a throwback aptitude for pyrokinesis passed down by an unknown Hazel, ensured I survived my childhood.
I retrieved the humming stone from the car, settled it on my hip, and made my way up the steps. I almost broke an ankle when the third one gave way because of rotted wood. That made me focus on the house. Or more importantly, how much of a death trap the place was. I mean, what the hell? Did Grandma Hazel not maintain the place? Or my idiot brother and sister? Obviously not.
My steps were halting as I worked my way across the death trap of a porch. I was pretty sure I needed to replace the entire thing. I breathed a sigh of relief when I made it to the door unscathed. A twist of the knob and the door swung open, making my eye twitch. None of the so-called caregivers had even bothered to lock up. Now, I knew some protections went beyond locked doors and windows, but this was negligence. Magic only went so far. That was okay, though, I’d have some surprises waiting for them the next time anyone showed up.
The entrance was as I remembered. Stained-glass windows on either side of the door. Scuffed wooden floors. Coat closet door next to the interior door. It was a small space, big enough to accommodate the umbrella rack and shoe stall. Even the interior door was open, as if my grandfather was still home. Grandmother Karla always insisted on having it closed.
As I walked by the coat closet, the faintest hint of sulfur touched my nose and made my steps slow. Tales of doors to Hell that my grandfather had told us –and Kenton’s obsession with scaring me with the possibility of demons and devils coming to eat my flesh – flashed through my mind. Mayhap not tales after all? But that was a discovery best left for another day. This day, I needed to go down to the ritual space in the basement. I was sure that was what grandfather had meant by sending me this annoying humming stone and that note.
Walking through the sheet-draped furniture in the living room, I took the stairs down and entered through the low arch at the end. The ritual space, created by a full coven of Hazels, remained the same. As was appropriate, I noted the brazier to the south was still lit, and I could hear the trickle of water to the right. After a moment the chimes to the left tinkled, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the hum of energy in the air. Its hungry countenance held in stasis until set free to work the will of the witch.
The moment I crossed the circle, inlaid into the concrete floor with semi-precious gems, the stone on my hip let out a sharp wail. I realized my mistake. The magic wasn’t waiting, it was active and targeted. It slammed into me with the force of a sledgehammer. I couldn’t help the cry that escaped my lips, nor how the stone slipped from my grasp. I felt my blood boiling in my veins, and the metallic taste of it filled my mouth.
The stone hit the floor with the unexpected sound of an egg cracking, followed by the skittering sound of rock on rock. In the deepest recesses of my brain, I found that weird, but the sudden ghostly chanting distracted me. The echo was disorienting, so it took a moment for the words to penetrate my brain.
“Blood of blood, kin to kin. Bind the magic, end to end.”
Son of a bitch! The room shook as my magic clashed with theirs. I was angry, so very angry. I recognized those voices.
“Blood of blood, kin to kin. Bind the magic, end to end.”
I forced my eyes open and moaned. Everything blurred in the pooling, magic-like heat haze in the air. But I could see that the humming stone had broken, and seven smaller stones, the same opaque red hue, had fallen in a circle around me.
“Blood of blood, kin to kin. Bind the magic, end to end.”
In the split second, before the magic detonated and hobbled me forever, I opened myself completely to the other ambient magic in the circle. Magic that knew me and understood I was a true Hazel. One that understood our duty as caretakers. And something that my power-grubbing grandmother and siblings couldn’t seem to grasp.
Magic was intuitive, for want of a better word. And had a mind of its own, sometimes. Apparently, this was one of those times. That, or it didn’t like my relatives any more than I did. I felt it when it happened when the binding twisted, and magic roared along the spokes of the ritual circle. The seven stones encircling me blazed infernal-red before exploding with a sound like popcorn in the microwave. As I blacked out, the last thing I heard were screams renting the air, along with three loud pops of translocation.
I woke up, stiff and overheated, on a stone floor. It took me a minute before I recognized the basement of the Hazel homestead. As I climbed to my feet, I ran my fingers through my hair and grunted because these jeans were cutting into my stomach.
“Wait, why are we all here?”
I looked up and stared. Seven weirdos were standing in a circle around me, dressed in robes. Plain black ones. That should have been odd, but I didn’t care.
“Hey, doesn’t this dude look familiar?”
My foot bumped something on the ground, and I looked down to see a rectangular shard of red crystal. Before my eyes, it shimmered, and I was staring at a generic touchscreen cell phone. Nice. I reached down and picked it up.
“Seriously?”
Oh, yeah. The weirdos. I frowned because that last voice had been female. Eh. I tapped the phone screen and watched runes begin to scroll across. I ran my thumb across three of them and watched them flash red before the entire screen reorganized.
“Hey, dude? Aren’t you going to give us instructions?”
“Commands?”
I glanced up to see two of them had thrown back their hoods and were glaring at me. I felt like I should be alarmed that there were strangers in my house, but I wasn’t. The only thing I felt was a craving for Takis and any carbonated drink. And the phone. The runes were entrancing and demanded my focus.
“Not really. You losers can do what you want.” That should get them out of my hair. Although the muttering indicated probably not. Whatever. I had Takis to buy. And soda.
As I wandered over to the stairs, two other robed figures stepped out of my way. I absently noted they were standing exactly where the circle of stones had been. I tapped a sequence of runes and frowned when they flashed green this time before disappearing from the screen.
“For real? That’s it?”
“Calm yourself.”
The arguing was getting louder and louder the higher I climbed on the stairs. I found three more runes to match, and the entire screen shifted to the left. That was new. Footsteps sounded behind me, but I was already on the first floor. Ignoring the sheet-draped furniture, I plopped down on one of the sofas amongst a cloud of dust.
“Now, wait a damn minute! It’s the least you can do after what we’ve been through! We’ve been waiting forever to get out of that stasis crystal!”
Ugh. This loudmouth was going to persist. Fine. I set the phone in my lap, although I continued to watch the runes out of the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, what?”
Only three of them had followed me upstairs. The two that had their hoods pushed back, a male and female, and another that remained in shadow. It was the male that was so pushy.
“Don’t you know who we are? What you’ve unleashed?”
Not really, and I didn’t care. Although I should. To be honest, I should be upset about the stone shattering. It was a gift from my grandfather, after all. And I should be supremely pissed about my family trying to bind me. Or wonder where they had got off too. None of them had the power to translocate, so the fact that they had was either really good or really bad. On the plus side, the magic had dissipated. Nothing was going to blow up or collapse into a black hole. As far as I could tell.
“Eh, not my problem, dude.”
The female’s eyes widened, eyes that were a soulless black. “You summoned us. The seven deadly sins incarnate!”
That didn’t seem like something I would do. Hey, two runes balanced. I quickly tapped those and all the runes turned blue.
“This is getting us nowhere. Are you sure he’s the one?”
“Maybe, but something has gone terribly wrong. We’re stuck here, even if he isn’t.”
I barely noticed when the one that was still hooded sat down next to me. Not until they flicked my thumb as I tapped more runes.
“Hey you, what’s your name?”
Attention focused elsewhere, I frowned when the runes reverted to red. “Kevin Hazel.”
“Well, shit. It is him. The one we’ve been waiting for since we were sealed in that damn gem. The one who Harold said would cut our ties to Hell permanently.”
Another one joined me on the couch, while the one with the soulless black eyes perched on the coffee table right in front of me. My face twitched, and I frowned because Harold was my grandfather’s name.
“Great, we got a dud.”