Capricorns and Devil Horns

A Serious Spell

It wasn't easy to get Vivienne on board. When Morgan calmly told her what we needed and why we needed it, she burst into hysterics.

How dare we disrespect David like that? Hadn't he already been through enough? Why couldn't we just let him rest in peace?

I tried to reason with her. To tell her that we needed this to get justice for David and all those other people she'd killed. The night before, as Morgan and I had slept, she'd killed six more people. Six. In just a few hours. Two men and four women. According to the news, one had been pregnant. I wondered if she had gained the power from the baby as well, but felt too morbid to ask.

Morgan's magical compulsion didn't work on Vivienne. Or, for that matter, me any-more. For a split second, I wondered how much he'd used that power over me. How much I'd been unknowingly manipulated by him before Hell. This meant that she had to be convinced in the good old-fashioned way- with money. He'd produced a thick wad of notes from his pocket and planted it in her hand. She sighed deeply, but slowly nodded.

"For David."

"For David." Morgan agreed, "Nora, Love, you go home and pick out a nice big bucket. I'll be back with the heart in half an hour, okay?"

He returned to the apartment 28 minutes later, where I had the mop bucket in the centre of the living-room. He had an old blue plastic bag, almost dragging along the floor from the weight of its contents, the blue turning purple.

"The home is where the heart is."

I rolled my eyes and pointed towards the bucket.

"Doesn't she need to be here?" I questioned.

"Don't worry, Dear. She'll soon come crawling when her wings are alight."

"Right..."

Morgan turned the bag upside down, emptying the heart into the bucket. Then, he paced to the kitchen and then to my bedroom, returning with the butterfly enclosed in his palm, the scorpion tail between his teeth and a kitchen knife hanging out of his pocket. I didn't even dare glance at the heart, fearing an expulsion of my breakfast from my face.

"Nora Love, be a dear and hold this for me." He said through his teeth, presenting me with the ethereal creature. I didn't argue, wincing as I pinched one of the wings and the thing maniacally fluttered. Skip was at my feet, yapping and leaping for it, probably thinking it a pretty little chew toy.

With the scorpion still hanging from his mouth, he snapped his fingers, an orange flame igniting between them.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"That's aggravatingly cliché! 'Oh look at me- I'm the Devil and when I click my fingers I can make fire!" I mocked.

"Shut up! This is a serious spell!"

I said no more and he brought the flame floating between his finger and thumb closer to the wings until it caught. On impulse, I threw the creature, with it landing directly in the bucket. Morgan took the scorpion between his (now un-litten) fingers and we watched as the fire rose from within it.

The putrid stench of the burning heart filled the room. I'd hoped that somehow the wings would give off a lovely smell- perhaps a nice vanilla- to mask it, but no. I tucked my chin into my chest, hiding my nose under my jumper and Skip whimpered, head-butting my shin. Morgan, however, stood watching, seemingly unphased.

"Smells like home." he murmured.

Then, without warning, he took the scorpion and tossed it into the fire. He was so nonchalant about it all, as if he'd just casually chucked a screwed up bit of paper in the bin. I was just glad I hadn't grown attached enough to the thing to give it a name yet.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

"It's Hannah." He said quickly, "Open the door- I need to start the spell as soon as possible."

"This isn't the spell?"

Bang bang bang.

"Get the door before she starts fucking huffing and puffing, will you?"

With tremoring hands, I turned the door handle. And there she was. Hannah Wilde. Hair the same colour as the flame in the centre of the living-room, though now, ashy veins ran up her neck, arms and legs like roads on a map.

"What's happening to me?" She panted.

I grabbed her by the hand and yanked her through the door, kicking it closed behind her. Morgan's lips were moving, though no words were coherent to me. I stood as far back from he and the flaming bucket as I could, clutching Skip to my chest, whilst Hannah inched closer.

"What are you doing?"

"Morgan, how long?"

He didn't answer- just continued muttering under his breath.

"What is this?" She repeated.

"Morgan!"

He paused, before dropping a pinch of the hair into the bucket.

She shrieked. The flame shot up and then- it was gone. Hannah's porcelain skin seemed to turn blue right before my eyes.

"Auribus teneo lupum." Morgan spat.

And she was gone.

It was over.

"Ugh. So cliché." I groaned.

"Shut up!" He giggled, nudging me.

He grinned down at me, his icy eyes smiling just as much as his lips.

"We did it."

"We did it." I repeated, grinning too.

"Celebratory Chinese?"

"Oh, God, yes!"