Chris Lowry [Lowry - Witch Blues: A Marshal of Magic tale (The Marshal of Magic Series Book 2)

WITCHMAS a Marshal of Magic story by Chris Lowry @copyright 2016 Grand Ozark Media All rights reserved Can I send you a copy of GUNS AND MAGIC A Marshal of Magic Tale for free? Other works by the author CHAPTER ONE A trio of witches gathered on the edge of a parking lot at an abandoned warehouse between the airport and downtown. The property had once housed a furniture supply store in the fifties but was derelict for the past forty years. The time had not been kind. Teenage vandals broke the windows with chunks of concrete and rock, which let in the elements. Rain, ice, snow and storms had worked their way through the wooden interior so that all that remained was the brick shell, and the occasional still standing wooden floor in the five-story building. The homeless population of Memphis had scurried through the windows seeking any form of shelter from the harsh winds that roared down the Mississippi River.

Some died in collapses, others were killed during infighting, and gang initiation rituals. It was a dead place, a dead building haunted by faded memories. "Can you feel it?" whispered Hilda. She was taller than average, beautiful in a cold ice queen manner, and stood in front of her two compatriots at a point of a triangle drizzled in blood on the cracked concrete. "The ghosts are calling," answered the shorter one on the left. "This is going to be fantastic," growled Hilda in a husky rumble. "This is going to be fantastic," growled Hilda in a husky rumble.

The third witch pulled a grimoire, a book of magic, from a messenger bag on her hip. "This should be enough." "It will be enough," said Hilda. She bent down and scratched another symbol onto the ground in front of the triangle. She pulled a small penknife from a pocket on her dress and pricked her finger to infuse the rune with her lifeblood. A breeze whistled across the lot, stirring up dust and debris. "Now," she said.

Carla opened the grimoire to a marked page and ran her finger over the text. It was in Latin, written in a faded calligraphy in splotchy brown ink that barely stood out on the parchment. "We call on thee." Cassidy mouthed the words with her. "Again," ordered Hilda. "We call on thee," they said together. It flowed into a chant, slow and melodic.

Their voices blended in a vibrating harmony that echoed against the pockmarked brick and bounced back toward them. Wind stirred again, and ghostly apparitions began to gather on the edge of the lot, leaking through the cracked windows in the building, surrounding the trio. Carla set the grimoire down behind them and pulled a white rabbit out of her pouch. It squirmed in her hands and she clenched down tighter. Hilda reached back with one hand and Carla passed the rabbit to her. She held up the passive bunny and sliced open it's throat with the penknife.

She dripped the blood across the rune. Her voice joined the others as she drew a line from the rune to the tip of the triangle. "We call on thee, we call on thee, we call on thee." The blood reached the triangle and red light erupted from the rune to burn against the brick wall. Ghostly figures were drawn toward the light and sucked into it. A black clawed hand reached through the portal and gripped an edge. It pulled the opening a little wider, enough for a second hand to jab through.

Now it had two hands on the portal and ripped it open. A sound like fabric tearing accompanied by ghostly moans roared through the air. A giant head emerged from the dark hole. A massive red face framed by ram's horns and a hyper muscular body, like a caricature of a comic book hero slid through the opening and rolled into a wary stance. It flexed massive shoulders and turned its head to the wind to sniff. "Sullamaie," Hilda smiled. "Sullamaie," Hilda smiled.

She dropped the rabbit and unfastened her dress. It fell to the ground and puddled around her feet. "Sullamaie," she said again. The creature turned to face her and leered. Hilda settled back on the concrete, her feet still at the point of the triangle. "Sullamaie," Cassidy and Carla said with her. "Sullamaie," Cassidy and Carla said with her.

The demon rumbled toward them. It kneeled in front of Hilda, planted a hand on the ground and jammed into her. She bit back a scream. The demon tilted back its head and roared. It finished in a moment and rose. Cassidy dropped her dress and kneeled on all fours into the triangle.

The demon sniffed and moved to her next. Her hair fell across Hilda's face as they stared at each other, eyes locked. Cassidy wasn't as strong and shrieked as the monster took her. "Sullamaie," Hilda reached up and caressed the young witch's face. "Sullamaie," said Carla. The demon growled again and leered at Carla with bloodshot bulbous eyes.

She dropped her dress and fell forward on her hands and knees. All three witches were in the triangle. The beast moved to Carla and grabbed her waist with massive hands. She screamed too. Cassidy and Hilda put their hands on top of hers as they chanted. It finished again with a roar that split the night air.

Carla collapsed beside her fallen coven. The witches stopped their chant. The beast dug clawed fingertips into the ground gouging claw marks into the concrete as it was slowly drawn back into the portal. It bellowed in defiance. A shadow darted across the parking lot and scooped up the Grimoire. "No," shouted Hilda. Too late. Too late.

Cassidy's foot scuffed through the blood and broke the plane of the triangle. The portal collapsed with the demon still on this side. It roared and bounded toward the witches. Hilda scrambled up. "Fortress," she screamed and crossed her arms in an X in front of her naked chest. The demon bounced off an invisible field.

It roared again and ran for the edge of the parking lot. "Damn," Hilda muttered. She glanced at the thief as he disappeared through a hole in the fence on the opposite side of the parking lot. "What do we do?" Cassidy asked. She held her head down and refused to meet Hilda's burning gaze. "He has our property." Carla held out their dirt encrusted dresses and they donned them. "We can't summon Sullamaie without the grimoire," she said. "We can't summon Sullamaie without the grimoire," she said.

Cassidy nodded. "He's going to do some damage." Hilda caressed her stomach. "Damage was the plan all along," she smiled.
CHAPTER TWO H e paused at the edge of the fence to look back over his shoulder. The witches were getting dressed. At least that's what he thought they were, witches or some other type of supernatural villain.

They had to be villains because what type of person summons a demon and then does that with them. It couldn't be for any good purpose that was for damn sure. Tyrone took off through the brush and bounded up on a railroad track. He was less than a mile from downtown and the small pub where he was supposed to meet the man who hired him. After the meeting, he had one plan. Get the hell out of Dodge, because that giant bullheaded demon didn't make it back to the underworld or wherever else it had come from.

It was currently running loose in Memphis, and the direction it was headed in took it straight to St. Jude's. He wondered if he should call the police. Wouldn't that be an ironic little kick? A thief calling the cops to ask for help. Technically it wouldn't be help. Tyrone would be warning them about a disaster in the making, though he wasn't sure they would believe him.

He wasn't quite ready to believe it himself even though he had watched the ritual and summoning with his own eyes. "Damn," he said and scrambled down the railway embankment to cut across a ditch. He could see the baseball stadium up the road several blocks away. There were cars lined on either side of the road which meant people, but he didn't slow or relax. The streetlights on this side of town were still subject to being shot out or knocked out, and the streets were bathed in darkness. The man who hired him had warned of supernatural AND mortal bad guys and Tyrone was a man of caution.