HELLSPEAK PART TWO

I looked to my right and saw a pair of eyes glowing red. I looked to my left. There were at least ten more pairs of red eyes. I felt a hand brush me. I gasped, felt my heart leap into my throat.

She was standing in the driveway, newspaper under her arm, a cup of coffee in her hand. Her hair was pulled back tight in a ponytail and her robe, unfastened, hung off her shoulders to reveal zebra pattern pajamas. Those big brown eyes were staring a hole in me.

The creature dropped us hard on the blacktop. It looked over at Maggie and spoke the same language as the the Sicarius. Dim rolled himself to a kneeling position. He opened his mouth and spoke to the creature.

It sounded like you were listening to a record backwards. Maybe my mother was right. All that Rock 'n' Roll I listened to was demonic, playing those records backwards might have been my language tutor. I should have paid attention.

I picked myself up, watched the creature throw himself into the air and into oblivion. Dim stood, dusted himself off.

“What were you two chatting about?” I asked him.

Dim looked puzzled. “You didn't understand...? Oh. You don't know Hellspeak. Maybe you ain't initiated yet.”

“The f**k are you talking about, old man.” I clenched my fist tight. I would have taken a swing at him, but I'm not much of a brawler. I'm more inclined to find the back door to a bar fight than break a chair over some one's head.

“Don't get excited.,” He patted me on the shoulder and smiled. “ I just asked him who was his master.”

“What did he say?” I shook him off, relaxed my fists.

Dim pointed to Maggie Collins. “He said he only had a mistress and she wanted him to save you from any danger. Good thing I was standing next to you.”

I stared at Maggie for a long time. She wanted to come over to me. She kept fidgeting with the paper, glancing over at me. Finally, Maggie turned and went inside. I looked for her husband's car, a gray Bentley. It wasn't in the driveway.

“Beat it, Dim,” I told him.

“Huh?” Dim took a few steps back.

“I said I'll catch up with you later, alright?!” I screamed at him, started for Maggie's house.

He did what he was told. Dim had a sour look on his face. He snapped his fingers and disappeared. I hesitated, my hand on the doorknob. What if Maggie didn't want to see me. What if she was done with it all. It fell on me like a ton of bricks. She had that Demon save me not just once, but twice. The last time it tackled me on a street corner. I thought for sure she'd had sent that thing to kill me. That's what she was trying to tell me the last time I saw her.

Maggie Collins still loved me.

I turned the doorknob, the front door slowly opened. There Maggie was, standing in the middle of the foyer, completely naked, her long chestnut hair was down past her shoulders, her arms open wide.

“Come here,” Maggie commanded.

I did as she said, practically turning a cartwheel.

*****************************************************

Later in the night we lay on a sheet on the floor of the foyer eating Chinese takeout. She was laying on me, her head on my naked chest, finishing off the last of the sweet and sour chicken. I stroked her hair. I could feel the warmth and rhythm of her heartbeats.

“I missed you,” Maggie whispered.

I sighed. “I missed you, too.”

She sat the wax box of Chinese down. She roughly turned around and forced me on my back. She kissed me softly on my bottom lip, then moved up to include both lips. It was warm and pure. I kissed her back, pulling her closer to me. Clinging....securing her body with both hands on her smooth back.

Maggie removed my hands, eased herself off and lay snug against me. She fumbled for my pack of cigarettes, took one. She found my lighter and lit it. When she exhaled, the stream of smoke looked. I watched it gently slide above us in the air, then dissipate.

“I wish you had never left,” Maggie said.

“It was a fool thing to do. I was confused. Tired. Very tired.”

“Yeah. I was confused a little. But I knew what I wanted.”

“What was that?” Maggie placed the cigarette between my lips. I took a drag.

“You,” She said. “I wanted you. I still do.”

“What about Collins? A very rich and powerful man....and still your husband.”

“I don't care about him,” I could taste the bitterness from those words she spoke. He leaves me all alone to hunt these ridiculous artifacts that supposedly has supernatural powers. He doesn't care about me. He only cares about power.”

“He's gone again?” I asked. She gave me a look. She started to say something smart a*s. I cut her off. “It's to do with what I'm working on.”

“Oh. He's been gone now....four months.” Maggie said.

Collins might not have been involved in these hits. I asked Maggie. She laughed, shook her head.

“No. he created the group to watch over this city. The collection?” She pointed to a room down the hall. “That is to help protect the group. You see, he has all the power in this tiny city. His sights.....they are set on controlling not just this world, too. He wants the afterlife in his grips as well.”

“What's going in that building?”

“You have to ask Police Chief Hemlock. It belongs to him, he just uses the Collins construction company to build it.”

I sat up. She grabbed my arm. I smiled at Maggie. “I'm not going anywhere.” I told her. That worried look gave way to relief. “Not til morning, Maggie. Maggie.....Maggie? Will Collins give you up?”

Maggie bit her lower lip. She started to speak, then stopped. She closed her eyes, tears trickled down her flushed cheeks. She reopened her eyes and nodded. “I have a way out.”

“Will he give you up?” I asked again.

“He will have too.” Maggie said with conviction.

I put my arms around her. She kissed me. I gently laid her down beside me. Maggie crawled up against me.

“What kind of life do you imagine for us?” I asked.

She laughed. “I haven't gotten that far yet.”

“Can you see yourself as a mother?”

Maggie sat up, thought a second. She turned quickly to me. “I never wanted any of this. I thought I cared about money. Power used to excite me. I think it clouded my judgement. What I always dreamed of, since I was a little girl, was old fashioned. My mother was a lawyer. She had three husbands, none were my birth father. You damn right I can see myself as a mother. I tried hard for years, Pete. First by him,” Maggie pointed at a framed photo of Collins shaking hands with President Reagan. “Then it was with any man that would have me. That just bored the s**t out of me. So....I gave up. Childless and unhappy with anything and everything at my fingertips. What a life.”

Yeah, I thought. What a life.

Then I jolted upright. Maggie sprung up, too. “What? What is it, Pete?”

“Do you still have the Spellcaster?” I asked.

“Yeah. What are you thinking? I'm not sure you should screw with that----”

“I need you to look something up for me,” I stood, put on my pants. I walked over to the couch and retrieved my shirt and jacket. She was giving me that look, the one that says you're gonna f**k this up.

I looked at her, threw my hands in the air. “What?”

“Listen to me. When someone....someone uses those spells, they can never stop.” Maggie said. She crossed the room, sat on the couch. “I'm telling you. You'll start, get used to making everything easy. One day you will have a spell go wrong---”

“Whoa--” I tried to get a word in, but Maggie wasn't having it.

“And that dark mourning of the soul will end it all!” She screamed at me.

I eased myself on the couch beside her. She was getting hysterical. I needed to say or do what I could to get her calmed down and reverse that spell.

“Just ...look, Maggie. Trust me. I know I have always said I wont use anything supernatural to get an edge....unless,” I wagged a finger. “Unless I have to. If this is who I think is using this Sicarous to kill people....they might use it again to kill me.”

I could see in her eyes a light switch  turned on. She started to well up. Maggie grabbed my hands, took them into hers. “Okay,” She said. “I'll do it. Give me a few hours to find the spell you want. Just promise me this will be the last time you use it.”

I said what I needed to say. I agreed, knowing I could never keep that promise.

***********************************************************

Dim was antsy. He paced in circles around me in the empty building Maggie's husband was constructing. The construction workers had already went home and the solitude was driving Dim crazy. In turn, he was driving me up the wall.

“What the f**k are we waiting here for again?” He growled.

I grabbed him by the elbow, stopped him in his tracks. “Cut it out,” I yelled at him. “Stay still. You're worse than a four year old casing the cupboard for cookies.”

“What are we doin' here?!” Dim's voice echoed through out the three story brick and mortar.

There was movement in the dark room outlined by metal frames. I shushed Dim, listened some more. There were voices. More like whispers. But it was a language I didn't recognize. Then I remembered Dim had said it was Hellspeak. A language used by demons and others from hell.

I looked to my right and saw a pair of eyes glowing red. I looked to my left. There were at least ten more pairs of red eyes. I felt a hand brush me. I jumped, pushed Dim away from me. He didn't notice. He was busy sniffing the putrid air. A wry grin came upon his face.

Dim started to laugh. “I thought so,” He said.

“What are they?” My voice broke. A nervous hypertension took control of my body.

“Would you believe it?” Dim waved a hand at hundreds of red eyes that had surrounded us. “Souls,” He giggled and shook his head. “Chambers, they ain't nothin' but souls. Somebody is storing souls here!”

I gasped, felt my heart leap into my throat. Something about the dead being active with the living scares the s**t out of me.

Author's Note

PART TWO OF A STORY STARRING PETE CHAMBERS.