Walking the Ley Lines

Whispers In My Mind

It was a dirt road, a back road. For the first couple steps I could feel myself being pushed forward, almost stumbling, into the brown dust, but I adjusted pretty quickly, this wasn't my first time. The currents through the Ley Lines were a relative thing, like stepping from one spinning globe to another. Nobody notices that the earth's always rotating at one thousand miles an hour.

The air crackled around me. If I opened my mouth too long I'd get an ozone taste that tickled my tongue like licking a light socket. The hairs on my arm prickled but didn't quite stand up. I stopped to wrap the book in another couple trashbags I kept in my backpack for just this kind of thing. The dark magic stink was stronger here, plus Janine had torn the bag she'd wrapped it in and black droplets kept oozing out. With the smell finally dampened, I started walking again.

Mom had called the Lines, roads through the mist, but that wasn't quite true. The real world on either side of the proverbial beaten path wasn't shrouded in mists per se; it was more of a dull haze, like looking through a dirty window. The colors were a little muted too, at least in this part of the Line. Things would change as I walked, they usually did.

I could hear the book now, it hissed in my ears with two or three distinct voices. Sometimes I could feel the breath of one of the voices against the back of my neck. I shuddered and kept walking. The good news was that if the book was coming after me, its hold over Janine would be dissipating. I instinctively jerked away from the distinct feel of whispering lips pressed against my left ear.

Deliberately not focusing on what the voices were saying, I wondered how long this trip would take. Dad said he'd made it from New York City to Spokane in two hours once. The energy in the Ley Lines ebbs and flows like ocean waves, timing made all the difference. My timing has never been all that good though. I was planning on three days give or take.

That was, of course, assuming that nothing too crazy happened.

The whispers grew louder around me, hissing like baby rattlesnakes. I was pretty sure a couple other voices had joined the chorus, but they were all talking over each other and I couldn't make out what any of them were saying, that made it easier to push them into the background.

I could still feel the slick coating across the book's leather cover beneath the layers of trashbags. This particular grimoire was probably centuries old to be able to sink its hooks into a host this fast, even in a Ley Line. I still hadn't actually peeled back the plastic to see the name of the thing. It didn't really matter, and I was trying to ignore it.

I smiled a little as I realized I had started thinking about it, despite deliberately trying to think about something else.

More whispers crowded around me.

The sky above me was starting to change colors, blue to violet. Rays from a purple sun cut across the dirt road like slashes in the air. I wasn't worried. This was just one of those things that happened in the Ley Lines. I was sure it wasn't the book getting in my head.

I was pretty sure.

I passed my left hand through one of the purple rays and clenched the book tighter with my right. Light glittered across my violet fingertips and I felt a soft jolt like a static charge. The light changed again, back to the regular yellow sun.

The road had changed to dark red dirt, like a martian crater. I kept walking, red dust rising and coating my jeans and black sneakers. I should have worn boots.

More voices hissed around me, moistening the skin on the back of my neck. There might have been ten or more now, one of them sounded high and soft enough to be a child.

I kept a steady pace as I desperately tried to think about something other than the voices crowding around me. Quick motions in the air almost made me stop short, I had the distinct feeling of invisible beings running next to me, in front of me, and behind me. Pushing ahead, my strides became a little more frantic, and the hissing voices grew clearer. 

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," I said, gripping the book harder. I was supposed to meet my patron on the road to dispose of the cursed thing, but time didn't flow smoothly in the Ley Lines. I couldn't be entirely sure when he would show up. Things like this grimoire didn't usually have this much of an effect on me.

The whispers became more rhythmic, like a chant.

Taking some breaths, I eased my pace a little. This was just a walk to a funeral. I'd be seeing my family again, it had been a while. I'd be seeing dad again, it had been years. He'd tried to bring me in to do contract work for the Cavalcante Family in Newark. The New Jersey Mob wasn't the first syndicate to seek inroads into the Dark Arts, but their boss was pretty motivated, at least according to Dad, big money to be made.

I'd said no, and we hadn't spoken again. It wasn't so bad though. I'd always gotten along better with Lavinia and Ambrose than either of my parents anyway.

I could make out some of the words now, and all the voices chanting them together in a quick rhythm.

Open the book, open the book, open the book, let us serve, let us serve, open the book, open the book, let us serve, let us serve.

I shook my head and stopped walking. "Alright, devil book," I said, dropping it into the red dust. The voices chanted frantically. Something like cold fingers slid up my arm. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my switchblade. With the press of a button the blade slid free, acid etched spells were swirled across it, right up to the serrated edge. They glittered in the sunlight.

Back in the day, when the cunning folk and psychotics started running books of maleficium through the Gutenberg press, right after the bible, there were book burnings and witch hangings...not a lot of witch burnings...that's a myth. It was a very shoot first and ask questions later mentality. Anything that wasn't the bible could go on the barbecue. It wasn't all that enlightened, but it strangled a lot of works of devilry in the cradle. Of course, some of the dangerous ones still made it, and now they've had centuries to soak in the darkness. Now destroying the things was almost impossible, fire's no good anymore. They protect themselves in nasty ways.

I rolled up my flannel sleeve. The voices hovered around me and I could feel myself getting colder. A feeling like metal needles slid into my feet and I dropped to my knees, clenching my teeth. The whispers started drilling into the front of my skull.

Carefully, I started carving into my bare forearm, whispering the incantation through my teeth. Blood welled up and dripped into the dirt. I moved a little so the droplets splattered across the plastic covered book.

I spoke the last couple words and the sigil I'd carved in my skin seared itself close with a smell like burning pork.

The voices stopped.

The cold and the needles stopped. All that was left was a muted burning sensation across the sliced mark in my arm.

"Ah yeah, that's better," I said, slipping the book back under my arm and rising to my feet. Wiping the spell etched knife on my pants, I closed it, slid it back into my pocket, and resumed walking.