All the usual disclaimer's apply: don't read this if it is illegal for you to do so, don't steal or copy anything here without my permission. This story is inspired by the brilliant series American Horror Story: Coven. If you enjoy it or wish to read more, send me an email at nbradFshaw@yahoo.com.
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"So you want me to go to Heaven," I heard what she said, sure, but it wasn't any easier to process. Heaven was a stretch...something no witch had ever succeeded in doing. The decent into Hell was easier to accomplish- it was something every Supreme could do. And getting to hell wasn't the hard part- it was getting back. But going to Heaven...only two witches ever attempted such a thing. And no one knows if they succeeded, because they never returned.
"I don't want you to go to Heaven. You want to go to Heaven," Madame Mamora replied, crossing her legs.
"No witch has ever-"
"Since when have you, Julian Fox, applied yourself to the limitations of what a witch can and cannot do?"
"Mamora, I'm not a child. I can see when you try to manipulate me," I warned her, slightly annoyed.
"Why don't you hear me out first?" she replied. "There's more than one thing to be gained by going into Heaven."
"Fine. I'm all ears," I, reluctantly, settled back into my seat in her mysterious little room in the back of this club. She waved her hand over her tarot cards, and selected the one for fate.
"Julian, from the moment you were born, you were destined to be the greatest witch to ever walk this earth. That is why I have offered you my assistance so loyally-"
"No. It isn't," there were very few times when I can't control my own tongue. This was one of those. "We both know why you assist me Lolita Sanchez." She looked at me then, her almond colored eyes a rainbow of pain and regret and pity and love.
40 years ago. I had only been the Supreme for a few years then- I was 21. But already I knew I was the shit- the most powerful witch on the West Coast. I walked around like everyone was beneath me, I took what I wanted and didn't give a damn who got hurt. To say I was reckless was an understatement. I was a storm on the horizon, and everyone could feel it in the air when I moved. In those days I ran with Lolita, we grew up together. She was a powerful witch too, and they hated and feared her just as much as me. But she pissed off the wrong family of witches, and they put a curse on her. Fast forward a few years- we were about 25. Lolita had settled down and fallen in love. She had four children- all of them born alive and dead in her arms. She came to me then. She begged me to help her- and I did. I went to Hell, alone. A pregnant woman cannot descend into Hell, and she was pregnant with her fifth child. I met with the demon that was plaguing her. It was
powerful, close at the hand of Satan. I made a bargain for the life of her child- my soul for its. And that demon agreed. So I sold my soul so she could have a child, and now I am a man without a soul. In capable of feeling any real emotion, which makes me untouchable. I can remember what it felt like to feel, but never again will I experience anything.
"Julian, listen to what I have to tell you," she sounded tired and a little broken. Time does that to a person. "It's because of that I believe you are the only one who can ascend to Heaven. Heaven is a place only penetrable by the pure souls of the dead, and angels."
"And there's no way that I fit either of those descriptions," I couldn't help but point out.
"One of the biggest debates in Witch culture is whether our powers are angelic or demonic in nature. The answer is both. Our powers are angelic in nature, but are tainted by our humanity, and the experiences we traverse through. Eventually, they become stained, and impure, and demonic. A Supreme is the closest thing to walk this earth to an Angel. And what stops you from becoming an Angel is your humanity. But without a soul, the only thing that makes you human is your body."
"So?"
"So, they cannot take from you what you do not possess. However, they can return to you what you have lost. Because without a soul, your as much an angel as any. In Heaven, there is something called Angel's fire. It was used in the creation of all witches. You can use this to find your replacement, and force out their powers. And with this, you won't have to kill them." It was more than a lot to take in. There was a lot of risk involved in what was probably mostly guess work and untested hypothesis, but the pay out would be exponential.
"You said they could return what I've lost," I was testing the waters. She smiled.
"Your soul, Julian. You made a deal with a demon and lost it; making another with an angel will get it back."
"What is this some sort of loophole you found?" I asked.
"You have a law degree, Julian. You should love loopholes. Whatever can be said about who you've become, the Julian who had a soul gave it up in sacrifice for someone else. That Julian was a good man."
"Hey," Julian said suddenly. I was snuggled in his arms, kind of dozing off on the patio. It was a beautiful night, but by far the most intense I'd ever had. I had never been held by a man before- my dad wasn't very hands on- so being with him like this, in his strong arms, the feel of his abs against my side... I knew this was where I was always meant to be.
"Yeah?" I asked drowsily.
"Are you cool to stay here by yourself for a bit? I have to take care of something," he sounded like he was asking my permission, my permission to leave. I looked up into his blue eyes.
"Yeah sure, if you have to go," I sat up and slid from inside his arms. He smiled at me and kissed my forehead.
"I really hate to leave you like this," he started to put on his shirt and then his shoes. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He got up and walked towards the door, but then he looked back. I guess I looked needy or sexy, because he walked back over to me and leaned down to whisper in my ear. "And when I get back, I'm going to give you the first time you deserve."
"You left him in there alone?" Rockelle looked over at me as I drove, annoyed. "Why? You should be there when he finds out that you're a witch. He might leave."
"Rockelle, I have a P.H.D. in human psychology. I know people," I told her, knowing how much she hated when I brought it up. "I know you. He's going to go through my stuff, because he's human. It'll be innocent, because he isn't like you. So he'll confront me about whatever he finds first when I get back. And we have to take care of this now."
"Why do you trust what she said? You can't get into Heaven," that was clearly as loaded an insult as any.
"Because she's smarter than you too," I told her. "And she's helped us get this far. And I know where to look for the information."
"She's trying to get rid of you," Rockelle rolled her eyes and laughed sarcastically. "And you can't even see it. Even if by some miracle you got into Heaven, you'd never come back. There's nothing wrong with the plan we've been using. It works everytime."
"Rockelle, what do you think will happen to you should I die? There aren't very many witches who like you. I'm pretty much the only one."
"Listen to you getting all Guru on me. What are you going to say next? I should make more friends and find my inner peace?" It was sometimes hard to talk to Rockelle, because of her need to be as rude as possible. But I was more determined than she was rude.
"Seriously. The only reason you haven't been burned at the stakes is because of me. So if I'm gone, you'll follow right behind me. That's why we've got to be a bit....gentle in our approach."
"Gentle? Is that why you killed a guy and left his body in the bathroom of a club? Not to mention that you two fucked in the middle of all that. Very classy," she put her hair up in a ponytail. We were almost there. "And then there's the fact that we're about to break into a hive of Witch hunters just so you can get it up to smash your boy toy."
"I have never had a problem getting it up," I pointed out, "They have something I want. And since they don't plan on giving it to me, I'm going to have to take it."
"Which means we're going to kill a few witch hunters and start a war in the process," there it was, that typical Rockelle charm. "All because of what Mamora told you. And unless we're on this ride over the mountain and through the woods to her taco stand, she's not coming with us. So when they want revenge, they'll come after our Coven."
"They aren't stupid enough to come after us directly. You and I both know that," I parked my Jeep outside of an old stone mansion that was some sort of cross between a church, a castle and a prison. Witch hunters weren't progressive in the least bit; they were all about tradition and rules and codes and all the things that stifled growth and freedom. I knew a lot about witch hunters, about this particular house in fact. It was the first witch hunter settlement in California, and had been here for almost 200 years. What was most important, however, was what they possessed.
"They keep a vault in the basement, Rockelle. There are a few books we need- leave the rest. Everything there is organized to the point of obsessive, so it shouldn't be hard. They pride themselves on the things they've stolen from us. They think having our history, our important documents makes them powerful, but they refuse to open them. Just don't take to long."
"Your wish is my command," Rockelle laughed at her own joke, before taking my hand. In an instant, we were gone from the Jeep and were in the foyer of the mansion. It was quiet; most of the witch hunters who lived and worked here were at a meeting in Sacremento, instead of here in Woodside. That was another drawback of their obsession with tradition- they were incredibly predictable. Had the same meetings in the same places on the same days since they formed. They hadn't even updated the decor- the walls had torches on them, and there were statues of knights along the walls.
"I'll keep them busy. Meet me back here in fifteen." Rockelle smiled before she was gone, and for a moment I was alone. I began to walk down the hallway into the heart of the mansion. I knew where I was going, had been here several times before. Never, of course, uninvited, but that was only a minor detail. The thick Victorian carpet muffled the sound of my footsteps as I entered the grand living room. It had several couches and lounge chairs, and a massive fireplace that had, on a few occasions, hosted a few witches. The stones around the mouth of the burning fireplace were charred, and though it burned bright, it was the only heat in the otherwise chilled house. I sat down in a plush brown leather arm chair and waited.
I didn't have to wait long; even those stuck in the past have to have some sort of security. A kid, probably nineteen, was standing on the second floor looking over the balcony at me. I knew he couldn't tell who I was, but I also knew he knew there were only supposed to be ten people in the house.
"Who are you?" He didn't sound angry, more curious; most witch hunters prided themselves on being friendly to non witches, and offering them some sort of hospitality.
"Come down and find out," I called up to him, quietly. Stone houses didn't make as much noise as regular houses, didn't spend as much time settling. He came bounding down the stone stairs, trusting, always too trusting. When you've been bred in tradition, you don't expect change, and you instinctively expect everything to happen the way it always has. So he had no reason to believe I was any sort of threat, let a lone a witch resting in his home. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, clearly recognizing me. He was cute, reminded me of a boy I dated in college. He was a blonde, and I'm usually not into blondes, but had this sort of youth about him that vibrated the room. And he was confident, with no sign of facial hair and clear green eyes. He was maybe 5'11, and worked out a lot without being completely muscular. He had a really angular chin and deep dimples, the kind that would always make him look young.
"You're-"
"Julian Fox, Supreme. Pleasure to meet you," there was a sword hanging on the wall next to him. He reached for it and charged at me. I could tell by the way he held it he knew what he was doing.
"I'll kill you!" he shouted.
"No you won't. Put the sword down and come over here." It was always interesting to see a person being controlled by a witch for the first time. He moved immediately, not even sure why. The sword fell out of his hand and he walked over and stood in front of me, confused and angry. "What's your name?"
"Vekrom," he told me.
"Well Vekrom, take off your clothes."
I'm so sorry to keep you amazing people waiting! But, chapter 6 is already written so as soon as they let me, it will be posted. And it's a bit different than the previous chapters (there is some sex) but it's still good. Keep reading! email me nbradFshaw@yahoo.com