Hail to the Queen (Witch For Hire 2)

Charlotte sits up so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. Her eyes pop open.

“What are you doing in here?” She clutches the sheet up to her chest, sounding like a lost child.

“Do you remember me, Charlotte?” Father Axon steps forward. “We’ve talked before.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “None of you should be in here. This is my room. I want you all gone.” Her voice turns shrill.

“Your tricks won’t work on us. No one is coming in here,” Father Axson says calmly.

“You’re crazy,” she whispers, shaking her head. Her lower lip trembles. Her knuckles turn white where she clutches the thin sheet. She plays the victim well. If I hadn’t seen her reenact a scene from a few days ago, I’d be inclined to help her.

“We are speaking with the entity inside of Charlotte now,” Father Axson says. His deep baritone is clear and commanding.

Baal Shem lights a stick of incense. The sharp scent of sulfur fills the room. Charlotte’s lip twitches as he waves the smoke around her bed, fumigating. The process is meant to coax the spirit out of hiding. We received a crash course on Jewish Exorcism on the way over. It differs from the traditional Christian practice in a number of ways.

Her eyes bleed black, and she growls, gnashing her teeth. “You can’t stop what’s put into motion, holy men,” she says in a deep, gravelly voice.

“Speak your name, and leave this child of God,” Father commands. Charlotte jerks. We focus on keeping her arms and legs pressed into the mattress. The bed rattles. A crack forms the length of the ceiling to the floor.

“She’s mine. She made the deal and asked for this. They all do.”

“We will break your hold.” Father ignores his comments and begins to read the Bible.

Charlotte begins to speak in a harsh language. She jerks her head to the left and right, fighting our grip.

“I command you to tell us your name.” A lump forms in Charlotte’s throat. An unholy snarl vibrates in he

r chest. She snaps her teeth. The bed comes off the floor and slams down in a rhythmic pattern. The overhead lights flicker and the blinds open and close.

“Ah. Aaaah.” The sound is violently ripped from Charlotte’s throat.

Baal Shem flicks holy water onto her. Steam rises off her body like dry ice has been dropped into water. Her skin sizzles and blisters.

“Ag. Ag.” She chokes on the sounds. “Agares.”

Baal Shem begins a haunting wailing of the Djinn’s name. He bows repeatedly. Her body convulses. Windows shatter inward, coating us with glass. We scream as the glass knicks us. The Djinn sends out a jolt of power that slams the three of us to the wall, breaking our hold. Charlotte dashes to the large window, pausing briefly. She peers over her shoulder at us with sorrow-filled eyes.

“It wasn’t worth it. You have to destroy the box.” She turns mechanically and steps out the window as if she expected to walk on air.

The loud thud as her body hits the ground is quickly followed by screams that set us into motion. I push myself off the floor and stumble across the room on Bambi’s legs. No one can know we were here for this. I’m numb as I repair the damage and help the men collect their equipment. Tears blind me as we leave the room under a veil of spells. Self-preservation wars with self-loathing as I force one foot in front of the other. We’d killed her as surely as if we’d thrown her out the window.

Silence remains as we wait for the elevator. I fight the urge to give in to tears. I didn’t like her, but life is precious, and hers ended badly. An alarm sounds as nurses rush into the room and panic begins. The elevator door opens with a ding. We step inside. I’m a Cyberman from a Doctor Who episode. Emotionally bankrupt, running on instincts, and focused on the mission. Whatever my personal feelings, this is about preventing the end of the world. It trumps everything else, right? It’s hard to tell when my brain is on overload. The gentle caress of Renee’s consciousness against my own makes me smile. He’s letting me know he’s here. Able to blend in and charm, he was the perfect choice for our lookout.

We walk out to the insanity of police sirens, crowds, and security rushing in to provide order. We were the stone in the pond that caused these ripples.

“If that was the right thing, why do I feel like a murderer?”

“Do not let the enemy weaken you. He wants to distract you from your purpose. Always remember, he’s the one who caused this. We will end this. Do not let Charlotte’s last gift be in vain.”

“What gift was that, Father? All I saw as pain and despair.”

“Hope. With the name and the clue, she gave us the most powerful gift of all next to love.”

“He is right. I believe I know the artifact of which she spoke,” Baal Shem says as we walk across the road to the parking lot. “It is a puzzle box. Fitting for a Djinn, isn’t it? It’s an intricate creation made up of tiny pieces that must’ve been gathered over the ages.”

“Demons have nothing but time. That’s what makes them so dangerous. They never forgive, and they’ll wait for the perfect moment to strike every time,” Father added. “What you’re all feeling right now is the aftereffect of being exposed to the demonic. This will pass in time. Keep your faith close.”

“How do we find the box, and what do after we get our hands on it?” I ask.