Sadie Madison and the Boy in the Crimson Scarf

33 | The Conjuring

Each room of the Boswick's enormous house offered up evidence of a party. A party now over. Genevieve stood in the living room surrounded by half-finished plates and glasses stained with greasy fingerprints, wine, and lipstick. On a plush, velvet couch opposite sat Xander, Tobin, and Verden; their faces like ash.

Beside Genevieve, sat Caspar and Melchior. Both cats seemed agitated, restless. "I suppose you'd like me to begin," the witch said to them, her blue eyes shining in the gloom.

Melchoir flicked her ears.

Caspar mewed helplessly.

Genevieve turned to Cale Boswick. The boy sat to her right in a leather armchair facing a grand fireplace. With his head bent towards his chest, the scar on his face glistened in the firelight. "So lovely of you to join us, Cale," Genevieve said. "You have your friends to thank for the introduction."

Cale squirmed in his chair. "What do you want?" he said timidly, shielding his face from the light. "Take whatever you like. My father has money, and gold, and priceless antiques—"

"Hush, boy," she bit, like an impatient headmistress. "I have no need of your father's worldly possessions. Keep them...for all the good they'll do. They'll outlive the lot of you." Melchior screeched impatiently. "Calm down, Sister."

"What do you want then?" Cale rumbled.

"I want...you," she said, giving him a wicked stare. "Well, I want your body."

Cale looked confused, a sheen of panic glazing his skin.

"A vessel," she added.

"Like...a boat?"

"Yes, boy. Exactly like a boat. But a boat for one passenger. And one passenger only."

Cale looked at his friends. Their eyes were aching, streaming, wild with fear. "Who?" he asked. "What passenger?"

Genevieve smiled gloriously. "The Horned God, of course."

Cale shuddered.

Genevieve watched his face. "You're thinking of Pan. Perhaps Capricorn, aren't you?" she suggested. "Or every devil or demon scribbled down in some ancient text."

Cale nodded, unsure.

"And you'd be wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong," Genevieve said, her voice becoming almost contrary. "He goes by many names, and by none at all. He is everything. And nothing. The Horned God, the Lord of the Nyx, the Unknown, Void, King Nothing. And Malmortem—to those who know him best." She turned from Cale and looked at the terrified trio on the couch. "I'm sure you'd all like to meet him."

They mumbled inaudibly.

"Excellent," she said. "Then I shall begin."

Outside, late-comers made their way up the hill towards the Madison house. They sang cheerfully, dreaming of something sweet and tasty. Cale didn't look the least bit cheerful or hungry. He looked afraid. Deathly afraid. His stomach audibly churning with fear.

Genevieve opened her black robes and produced Sadie's tiara. Yanking out several strands of her own hair, she fastened two black feathers to the costume jewellery, forming a pair of horns. Then, with outstretched arms, lowered the dark crown ceremoniously onto Cale's trembling head.

"Lovely," she enthused, admiring her handiwork. Both cats meowed, low and sorrowful. "Very Lordly."

Genevieve closed her eyes, her hands raised high, her legs pulled in tight. She seemed to chant, uttering noises in the back of her throat. Gargling, dark noises. Malformed, disfigured, broken. Whatever light remained in the room slipped away. A darkness took them all. Darkness thicker than shadows.