Spellbound Façade

Chapter 14, Bloody Incantation

The room was silent and cold. The harsh winds of the Chicago air whispered and groaned through the brick and wood of your apartment complex. You peered over the corpse to Chucky in anticipation.

"Ade due Damballa. Give me the power, I beg of you!" He began, and thunder suddenly struck below

"Secoise-entre mais pois de morte. Morteisma lieu de voucher de mieu vachette. Endonline pour de boisette damballa!" At once, the apartment began to shake as Chucky spoke his broken French. The books scattered about and bumbled and bounced on your rug. Your dishes clattered in the cabinets and cups screeching together in fear. You grimace slightly, holding onto the corpse with all your strength. You feared and believed you might fly away at once!

"Secoise entienne mais pois de morte. Endelieu pour de boisette damballa!" Chucky yells at the corpse, then to the ceiling. Lighting strikes, and down below Detective Norris, who scurries from his parked car into your apartment complex.



"Endonline pour de boisette damballa! Secoise entienne mais pois de morte." He continues to chant, and the winds outside are much fiercer, and you worry for the building's safety. Dark magic and broken French had its prices, you guessed. "Morteisma lieu de vocuier de mieu vochette. Endonline pour de boisette damballa! Secoise entienne mais pois de morte. Endelieu pour de boisette damballa!"

The elevator creaks upon the detective's arrival into the building. Thunder strikes, and he hurries to close the door, faster than the winds can blow it open. The challenge was difficult. The storm was rather unusual as well, and he was puzzled by it. He had originally stopped in to check on you, but he could check on Andy and Karen as well.

The Barclays were under a certain amount of stress, especially Karen working constantly and Andy being alone. Not that he was Child Services or anything, but it was the right thing to do.

The elevator door chimes and Karen pulls the gated door open. Detective Norris spies this now, and his eyes grow softer.

"Now Detective, what are you doing here? I told you to leave, we are fine, really." She reasures him, quick and swift to close the lift's door and scurry to the front door.

"That's not it, really Miss. Barclay. I'm here for my dear younger cousin, who lives near you, I believe?" He asks her, and her demeanor softens.

"Oh, that one's related to you? They're very sweet. I have to work rather long shop hours, and they're going to look after Andy for me soon. Say hello to them for me, please." Karen smiled, and pulled the door open.

"Karen!" He called into the storm that she stepped into outside.

"Yes, Detective Norris?" She called after a moment.

"It's Mike and, be careful out there, that storm looks pretty bad to me." He worried, and paled at his watch.

"I will be!" She called and then was no more.

Mike had no time to worry about her for now. He was checking on your adjustment after all. Perhaps he should have called you first, having neglected that detail, but he chose not to worry about it. What would you be doing a random week in December? Perhaps, closer to Christmas he would call, but not now.

But in fact you were doing something in a random week in December. Clutching the jacket, you hoped that you had made the right decision after all. Besides the struggle of resurrecting Charles Lee Ray, you would have to make sure that he stayed alive after.

Chucky is slightly struggling to speak his French, and you peek an eye up at him above you and the corpse. His words strained and slurred slightly. You worried about him, increasingly so. How long would this go on? He had said the chant about three times now, but you really had no idea how long this would go on for. You clutched his coat and looked at his long curly black hair. It flowed slightly, the window you had left open pouring in a gust of wind and misty snow. You were thankful for the blanket draped round your shoulders, and pulled it tighter. You reached another arm to Charles Lee's own, leaving Chucky alone with his chant.