The Boy Movie Brahms Heelshire x reader FanFic

Salt and Iron - Part 57

You thank the Universe and whatever divine energies made you steal and hide the battered old book of spells Joel once showed you in a drunken moment.    It had lain still buried in your suitcase, forgotten until now.    You sit and stare at the thing, running your fingers over the cracked leather cover.    The paper within is thin as parchment, yellow with age.    

"Look at this writing," you tell Brahms.  "The ink is so old it's almost transparent."

"Copperplate," he murmurs.   "My mother wrote like that."

"I guess they just don't teach kids to write in that style anymore.   My handwriting sucks."

You flick gently through the pages.   "Holy Christ, there's stuff in here you'd only find in horror movies!    Look at this... how to rot a person alive with insect infestation from the inside out - duration four months.  Removal of eyesight.  Inducing madness and hysteria.   Explosive abortion."

"What exactly was lacking in your ex's life?"

"He did a lot of drugs.   Hard stuff.   It addled his brains.  He really believed this stuff worked.  The spells seem to be mostly some kind of incantation involving months of fasting and physical deprivation.   Oh, Christ, there's instructions on how to perform the Abramelin ritual."

"Summoning one's guardian angel," Brahms murmurs.  

"You know about it?"

"I've read about it."

"If not for what's been happening here, I wouldn't believe a word of this."  You turn each page searching for a clue as to what Joel has inflicted on you.   "I filched this little gem when Joel was rat assed one night.   He'd left it lying around and had never let me look in it.   I don't even know why I stole it or why I brought it with me.  Perhaps it was preordained.  Perhaps my own guardian angel was working for me that night and this is the key to my freedom."

"Didn't he miss it?"

"You bet he did.   He went fucking mental.  Smashed up the apartment searching for it.  Luckily for me, he'd been on a bender with some randoms he'd met at a bar and blamed them.  But his brother had more where this came from."

You stop at a page and peer closer.   "Spirits and entities have their own language.   You cannot summon the ancients with modern words...only their own Sahiriin language.   They are not the dead.   They do not obey commands in tongues created by humans.   The language of these entities is not of this earth.   The Ancient Ones live simultaneously in multiple dimensions.  Some  have been created from formulae that human minds can never comprehend."

 You look up at Brahms.  He says, "Go on."

"The Ancient Ones are known as Shirririin.   Know them by four distinct types.  Kaabihiin -bad spirits.   Sharrariin - devil spirits.  Aatilhiin - the devious summoned by black magic.   Fasadiin - rotten spirits specialising in accidents and death."

Brahms says, "These names sound Middle Eastern"

You nod.  "They're Djiin, Brahms.   Joel and Elias were messing with old, dark stuff here.  Perhaps more powerful than we can cope with."

"Keep reading."

You flick through the book.  Towards the back are pages  on how to counteract evil.  "There are good hours and bad hours to summon entities.   There are also special hours to call upon angels.   For every evil there is a divine.   For every soldier of darkness, an army of light.  There's a ritual here, Brahms.   To invoke your weapon of light you need a white candle, salt, a glass of water half filled, a piece of white linen or cotton,  a needle, paper and pen."  

Brahms gets up.   He's only gone five minutes but comes back laden with all the items you've just listed.   He drops them into the centre of the table and looks at you expectantly.  You continue reading.

"Create a circle with the salt and sit within.  On the candle, scratch or write the names of the angelic warriors you are summoning.   You must write the names vertically.  Just below the name, insert the needle into the candle.  When the candle burns down to the needle and the names are burned away, your request is done.   Ask of your angels all that you need in the time it takes for their name to be consumed by the candle flame."

"So who are these warrior angels?"

You feel like crying.   "I don't know."

Brahms folds his arms over his chest, rolls his head back and sighs.   "This is insane."

You give a weak laugh.   "Aren't you glad you met me?"

He gives you one of his solemn, inscrutable looks.  "What else does it say?"

"Do not touch or extinguish the candle under any circumstances.   It must be allowed to burn out naturally.  The water is used in the event that an evil entity attempts infringement.  If energies darken and mutate, use the water to douse its energies while using these words...then there's some Arabic stuff I'll have to write down.   Um...it says to write down your request before you start.   If for some reason, your pen or pencil breaks, then write with your finger dipped in water.  The angel will know what you write, though you cannot see it.   The piece of fabric is used at the end of the ritual as an offering of peace and love.  Set it to your heart and infuse with your purest intentions, then cast down within the circle.   Those who invoke must come from the highest intentions and proceed with iron in their souls."

You stare down at these words, written so long ago and by the hand of God only knew who.  How people, long since dead, had used this?   And what price did they pay?   There's always a price, isn't there?  You search some more, until a few pages on, you find what you've both been looking for.

"For the invocation of banishment of evil courses conjured by the  Aatilhiin or  Fasadiin  to be invoked two hours before sunrise...Michael behind thee.  Uriel before thee.  Gabriel on thy right side.  Raphael on thy left side.  It's the four archangels!"   You glance desperately at Brahms.   "Do they even exist?"

"I guess you better hope so.  It's you who's being attacked.   We'll do what we have to, in any way we can and with whatever device at hand."

You stare at the collection of talismans on the table, then over at Joel's dark stone.  "I hope that bastard's burning in hell!"

Brahms's eyes glitter as he stares at you.   "Amen."