This is the first part of chapter one to my book series 'The Department Of Supernatural Cooperation and Organization Files'. The series follows a young man as he enters the town of the Departments base in New City, Maine. A series of events leads him to end up getting recruited by the Organization. Neil (the main character) is thrust into a completely new world from his own, or what he thought was his own. Secrets upon secrets start to unravel, and even the world Neil would have imagined the Supernatural world to be like, isn't at all what it appears. This is NOT a traditional supernatural story. Ghosts and vampires are written out, and werewolves are a myth that's how infrequently they are mentioned. Hold on for a twisted ride, nothing is as it seems.
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The night air was cold, and it was only now just November, they were calling for a harsh winter this year, and Margo could believe it. She put the cold sharply from her mind however, she had other things to worry about. Lighting the last candle, positioned in a jar to keep the crisp air from extinguishing them, she looked down at the diagram before her.
She had never before tried this, but she was out of options. Peering at the page in front of her in the poor lighting, she was positive she had done the pentagram right. Sighing, she leaned back on her heels, kneeling in the middle of the circle. She took a deep breath, then sliced her left palm with a knife that she had made sure was the right sacrificial kind.
An intake of breath behind her reminded her that she wasn't alone, her husband Todd was with her in the graveyard where she was performing the ritual. She had tried to keep him from coming, he was against all of this to begin with, but he had talked his way into coming, as he did so many other things. "Margo, don't do this, let's just forget this all and go clean your hand and have a nice dinner somewhere-"
"No!" Margo all but screamed. Todd recoiled, he wasn't used to his wife being so adamant about something before, not like this at least. Taking a breath, she reigned herself back in. "Todd, you know I can't. I have been praying for a baby since I was a young girl and the doctors told me that I was barren. I can't stand not having a child of my own, I need this." When she spoke, her words became more and more serious. When she said 'need,' it almost didn't sound like her at all. Todd wondered if he should be alarmed, had his wife been possessed?
Todd knew nothing about magic, he had never even given it credit before. Margo hadn't either, for that matter, but after three years of being married without having any children, they had tried everything. All the doctors agreed, Margo would never have a child.
It had taken Todd a while to accept this, he had always planned on marrying, starting a family, and raising children. Margo hadn't revealed to Todd that she was barren till after their wedding, which at first caused a lot of fights and drama, almost ending the marriage before it really began, but they had worked their way through it, with the help of some good friends and counseling. Todd had believed that he had come to terms with being a husband only, but the night that his wife had proposed an alternative plan for having children, his heart leapt. If only he had known what she meant those few months past.
"We've gone too far Todd, we have to continue." Margo went on, her voice full of strange inflection that wasn't her own. "No more interruption, I have to start now."
Todd said no more, he knew his wife, and when she got something in her head, she stuck to it. What was he worried about anyway? It wasn't like magic was real, it wasn't like she could really pray to some dead spirits to impregnate her. His biggest concern should be about getting caught by the local cops, or worse, some prying neighbor. That was the last thing he needed, to be labeled the strange couple that performed séances to devils in the dark of the night in graveyards.
That set his heart to racing. After all it was November second, the Day of The Dead. The police would be heavily patrolling areas where they believed hoodlums might try and vandalize or start something. Todd had tried to get his wife to at least do it on another night, one with less authorities to worry about, but she had insisted, it had to be tonight.
Having taken a moment for quiet meditation, Margo set back to work, holding her hand over a ritual bowl, dripping her blood into it. She started to mutter to herself. If Todd could have heard her, he still wouldn't have been able to make out what she was saying, as she was chanting in Latin, or another unfamiliar language.
Leaving his wife to her own devices, he began pacing back and forth. The tension in the air was growing, and while he didn't believe in this sort of thing, something did feel like it was happening. Margo, leaning over the bowl, in the middle of a pentagram with candles in jars burning on each of the points of the star, disappeared from sight as Todd strolled around, something had caught his eye in the distance, and not wanting to watch his wife go crazy, went to investigate.
It turned out to be nothing more than the reflection on a small fire truck that was left for some poor child that had died too young. That made him sad, children shouldn't die. At least that was one thing he wouldn't have to worry about, the worry of losing a child. No one should have to go through that. Putting morbid thoughts firmly from his mind, he took in the night. It was a nice one, if not a little cold. The moon was bright, the sky cloudless, and this far away from city lights he could see more stars than he had seen in a long time. Only being in a graveyard with his slightly deranged wife ruined the atmosphere. Todd vowed to himself that once Margo had failed, and was still barren, he would take her home, comfort her, and talk her into adoption. Something that she had been adamant about not doing. At least, not without a blood child of her own first.
Todd wiped around, voices, he could hear them. Not just Margo's louder voice, but now a male one. Cops! They had been caught. Sneaking back to the sight of the pentagram, Todd remained in the shadows, it wouldn't do to have both of them arrested with no one to bail them out. However, as Todd drew closer his face paled.
Margo was now standing, blood still slowly dripping from her left hand, down her shirt and jeans, and in front of her stood a most terrifying man. That was, if you could call him a man. Todd's blood froze, and his nerves left him. He knew that he should jump out behind the tombstone he was hiding behind, but he just couldn't move. He had never been so afraid in his life.
Who was this, this monster? And where had he come from? The man, or things skin glowed an eerie green, visible in the dark shadows of the night. Margo stood in front of him, seemingly unaware of the unnatural horns protruding from his head, or the demon tail that swung lazily behind him. Todd wanted to run and get someone, anyone, but he was rooted to his spot. He couldn't make out what Margo and the demon were talking about, other than they were talking, but every once in a while sound would come his way.
"Baby, I want a baby." Margo pleaded.
The man replied, but all Todd heard was, "Price to pay." And something that sounded disturbingly like, "sell me your soul." Todd didn't trust his own ears at this point though, this was so screwed up, he wasn't even sure he wasn't imagining it all.
Margo sobbed a little, and then stuck out her hand. The man evaluated the prostrated limb, before taking it into his own. Margo screamed, head thrown back, but whether it was in pain or ecstasy, it was unclear. Todd would have loved to claim that he was a hero and that he rushed forward and battled the thing holding onto his wife, but even at the thought of losing the true love of his life, he couldn't move, not even a muscle.
Margo let go of the man's hand, and then looked down at her palm, the one she had sliced open for the ritual, it was completely healed. Todd was flabbergasted. The candles grew suddenly dim, the demons skin still glowed, but darker than it had before. A purple streak of light shot into the air, and exploded above the two in sparks of every color.
A deal had been made, Todd was sure of it.
"Go... copulate... child in nine months." The demon man spoke, Todd only hearing every third word or so.
Margo fell to her knees, crying, as Todd watched. Looking back up, the man was gone. Todd whirled around, trying to figure out where he could have gone, and how he had done it so fast, but there was no sign or even hint of a demon strolling the night.
Riveted from his stationary posture, Todd finally rushed forward and grabbed onto his wife.
"Margo, we have to go, everyone within five miles will have seen the lights, and the police will be here any minute to investigate the fireworks we just saw go off!"
Crying into her hands, Margo spoke. "Those weren't fireworks, that was magic! I did it Todd! We are finally going to have the baby we always wanted!" Margo looked up at that, and he could see happy tears streaming down her face. She looked happier now, than he had ever been able to make her. That irked him to no end, but he would deal with that later.
Helping Margo to her feet, Todd considered bringing the candles and the other things they had brought, but looking down into the bowl that had moments ago held Margo's blood, nothing was left. That sent icy prickles down his spin. In the distance he heard cars driving down a dirt road, the authorities had arrived.
Leaving everything else, Todd quickly grabbed the knife Margo had used to cut herself, the bag they had brought everything in, and his wife, and they rushed off together through the graveyard.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The bus rolled into the station just off of Main Street. This far north of Boston, not too many people were on the vehicle, but that was fine by me. There was always a chance you would meet a cool person on a bus ride, something about your energy's attracting, but you could also meet some of the craziest too though.
One time while waiting for a bus in Port Authority in New York City this French Canadian kid told me a story of how a man one time tweaked on a bus and killed his seatmate, decapitated him, and started to eat him, and no one said anything. That about killed my desire to travel, even if it had the ring of an urban legend.
I had finally decided to try moving on again, and I knew after three years of avoiding it, I was finally going to go to Maine. Which is how I ended up here, in New City, Maine. Although it isn't one of those classic coastal towns, at least off the Atlantic, but it was surrounded on three sides by two rivers and a lake. It also has that homey, journey has ended, far northern feel. Fall would be on its way soon, it was early September and already the nights started to get crisper, the air had the scent of impending autumn. It smelled terrific.
I was looking forward to seeing the classic and famous Maine autumns. I didn't know if the leaves had started to change color yet as it was seven pm, and the sun was set, most stores were closing up, or would be soon, judging by looking up and down the street as the bus came to a complete halt.
Voices from the outside attracted my attention. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it looked to be a group of nine to eleven Caucasians gathered in a circle, holding picket signs. I tried to read what they said, but all I could see were the letters 'S', 'F', 'N', I didn't know what they stood for, but the people outside sure seemed passionate.
I stood up, stowing my book away in my bag that I grabbed from the over-head compartment. It was all a fluid motion, clearly practiced. The old man across the way scooted over slowly, and stood up cautiously, envious of my youth. I smiled politely, and fixed my ear buds as I walked to the front of the bus with everyone else.
The line moved slower than I was used to while people exited, and it wasn't even a red eye travel time. I paced impatiently behind the black woman in front of me. I only specifically noted that she was black, because I could finally read the signs. 'SFN', Spikes, Fags, and Niggars. My face grew red even while reading it, and I could sense the woman in front of me stiffen, as she too, read the signs.
How rude?! I might have expected this somewhere in the inner city, some dumb, bigoted, white supremacy group, but I had really hoped to get away from all that religious nonsense when I moved here. I shook my head, no getting around it, it seemed.
I instantly felt poorly for the woman in front of me. She was the only African-American descendant in sight, everyone else on the bus, myself included, was Caucasian. Many of those people around us would never know what it was like to be different, to not quite fit in, to have some innate flaw that sets you apart permanently. I was not most people though.
I was average however, everything about me. I measured in around 5'10'', at about 150 pounds after I gorge myself, with unremarkable blondish brown hair. The only thing remotely noteworthy about me was my green eyes, they seemed to soak in light, and glow it right back. My friends back home used to joke and say I had glow in the dark eyes, of course I don't, but no more on them anyway. All that was in the past.
Even if I was appeared average, that didn't mean that I had to act that way too. No one else on the bus was likely to help this woman out, so I would have to do it. I haven't had any friends recently, but that wasn't because I didn't want them, so much, but that I just couldn't stop traveling. It was hard to make friends when you didn't slow down or stop for anything.
"Hey, if you want to step behind me, I can block their view on the way out." I offered in hush tones.
The older woman in front of me didn't stop moving at first, but then abruptly turned around to face me. She gave me a once over quickly, before judging my good-naturedness, at least I hoped so. Stepping aside, she let me get past. The woman was probably in her late forties, early fifties, but had reached the age well. Her dark skin showed some wrinkles, but only that of wisdom. Her hair was short, and she had them tastefully rolled to look like little pyramids all nice and symmetrical across her head. She was a little stockier, but her wide hips only made her appear bigger than she was. She flashed a white teethed smile of appreciation as I stepped past.
Together we walked to the front of the bus, and then turned to leave. I stood tall walking down the steps, while the woman hunched. I didn't know what this hate group's aim was, but it pissed me off that there were still so many racist ass holes in the world.
"We ain't got no rum fur no spikes, fags, or niggars." One man yelled, his mouth full of holes.
"Go back to your kind!" A woman shrieked, drawing attention to the woman and I. We had been spotted.
I wheeled around, pissed off. If they were waiting around on one random September night, they must have known that someone of color would be on it, meaning that it was all premeditated, and that they were singling this woman out intentionally.
"What's your fucking beef bitch?" I yelled all cocky-like at the woman accosting us. Others from the bus stopped to stare. The woman I had been trying to hide looked caught, she clearly wanted to leave, but she probably felt obligated to stay since I had spoken up.
"Don't you dare talk to a respectable young woman in my congregation like that again!" The man that stepped forward was burly, and serious.
I would never have let things get this far before, I don't like to be noticed. I never had friends really to stick up for, or get in fights with, so I wasn't sure why I had let things go so far this time, but I felt empathy for the older woman.
I wasn't one to confront trouble, but I had adopted a certain city slang in order to come across as thug, like I was tougher than I appeared, only I had taken it too far. Naturally.
"You seriously rebuking me on calling that ho a bitch, when you're throwing racist slang around?" I truly couldn't understand people like this. The crowd around us only grew.
"We are God's chosen people! You will bow to us one day!" A man hollered totally lost in his beliefs.
The bigger man held the smaller one back. "There there Paul, no used trying to explain it to the Damned."
My face flushed, he clearly meant me. I was about to say something, I don't know what, when I felt a gentle touch on the back of my arm. I turned, it was the woman. She tried to coerce me back.
"You devils should be ashamed of yourselves, you're what's wrong with the world today!" The woman screamed, empowered as we walked away.
I have kind of a lip, so it was hard to keep the insults in. "Be ashamed of yourself you ugly as sin, white trash, baby factory."
The crowd grew eerie quiet. The big man's face turned sour red, he was barely holding himself from acting on a violent impulse. The woman prodded me farther away. No one moved to stop us, but I know that they weren't going to forget my face.
Going to the other side of the bus we quickly grabbed our bags, and we started to hasten down Main St. to where, I wasn't sure, but I knew I didn't want to stay near that fanatic group.