I was the proprietor of a small witchy/occult/woo supply store that had all the usual stuff you’d expect and some stuff you wouldn’t expect and some stuff that if you had to ask if I had it, I didn’t have it, but if you knew I had it, it was for sale as long as you could meet the price.
“50 milliliters of demon’s blood. Please.”
The woman looked younger than her age to my living eye. Makeup, hair, accessories were sharp enough to cut time even as her stare was cold enough to freeze it.
To my dead eye, she looked haggard and wrung out. Her hair was as appealing as overcooked pasta. The inside of her mouth was stained with black splotches. Folks say meth is a helluva drug. But meth doesn’t touch the soul. You can recover from meth.
Demon’s blood, on the other hand…
“No.”
She balled her fist and slammed the glass counter. Markings on the edge glowed briefly as they shunted the unexpected kinetic energy towards receptacles on the sides of the counter. There is so much wasted energy floating around these days. Why not take advantage of it rather than letting it soak into the dust bunnies?
“You have it! I can smell it!”
“Yes. I have it. No. You can’t.”
“BITCH I WILL CUT YOU!” Her physical appearance remained impeccable as she opened her purse and threw a small roll of money on the counter. The rubber band broke and the bills unfurled into a creased pile of dubious legitimacy.
As she placed her palms on the glass with stern determination, my dead eye saw her grasping the edges of the counter in panic.
“I mean… I require a mere 50 milliliters of demon’s blood. Today. Within the hour, if you can. A… thing… I am preparing had been sabotaged, and I require the reagent to repair the damage and restore it fully.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re using it to remake yourself. You’re mixing it with other shit, hyping it up with certain workings, and then downing it like an after work cocktail. You are using it to gradually kill off your humanity for what the fuck ever reason you are justifying your addiction.”
She slapped the counter again. “IT IS NOT AN ADDICTION! IT IS A PROCESS!”
“So is alcoholism, steroids, and opiates. They are all means to an end, and not always what the partaker has in mind. No. I’m not selling it to you.”
She starts rubbing two fingers together, causing the rings to jostle against each other and start sparking.
“Are you really going to try and blast me? In my house? On my property? In my wards? Really? Think very carefully what you open yourself to if you finish that spell. Bring no shit, have no shit. I respond in kind, you know that. If you want to be distracted from your withdrawals, go ahead. Throw that blast. I happen to know someone that would pay me very handsomely for witch tits, extra if they are shriveled up.”
She stopped rubbing her fingers.
Shaking, she placed her hands back on the counter.
“Please… I’m so close… I can do this… I can ascend!”
“Which demon is assisting you? Or are there more than one?”
She shook her head. A headache started to form over one eye. I checked to see if it was anything she was starting. It wasn’t. Just my allergy to stupidity acting up again.
“How long have you been at this?”
“Almost a year.”
“And you do not know which demons are the source of the blood?”
“Demons are demons! As long as they have been rejected by the Christian God, what does it matter which one is being bled! They are like cows to be milked by whoever is strong enough to do it!”
I had a visitor in the shop this day. He had been listening quietly behind the curtains that blocked off the staff area. At the witch’s declaration, he could keep his tongue quiet no longer and laughed in sharp caws causing her to jump and blanch in a strange fear.
I took up her roll of money and noted that my brief touch caused ink to slide off some of the notes in the interior of the pile. I did not reveal my discovery, but rolled up the entire affair as it was and bound them with a new rubber band. I placed the roll of money back in front of her.
“I can not help you. I do not have what you seek, nor will I be able to source it at a cost you are able to pay. Is there anything else you are interested in? Perhaps a divination into the state of your soul, to see if the damage is reversible. My fees are higher than the average, so how about three cards right now. For free. To give you at least a direction to pursue towards recovery.”
She reached back as if to slap me, but her arm was drawn back down to the counter. The same energy that she expended earlier was now fueling the sigils that prevented her from striking me. That always amuses me when it happens.
“YOU HAVE A FULL STOCK BACK THERE! I CAN SMELL IT! NOW GIVE IT TO ME OR I SWEAR…”
“Wait.” A deep and raspy voice curled out between the slits in the curtains. The male voice spoke with a request of command and caught both of our attentions. “Before you finish that oath, I would like to be fully present. I want to catch all the details.”
My visitor stepped through the curtains, having to bow slightly because of his great height. Surprisingly lean for such a tall man, his sharp features gave him a cruel and sinister impression. The way his fingers came to bony points did not help matters. His black silk suit was embroidered with blacker thread. The outlines of crows were tessellated across his chest. The same design was stitched into the cloth covering his head in a mock hood.
He came to a stop behind the counter, but far enough away that he could watch the witch and myself at the same time. “Yes. This is a proper vantage point. Please, ladies, continue. You were saying an oath, I believe.”
The witch had forgotten her words. She was sniffing wildly in the air. Her eyes were opened fully as she lost all sense of decorum. “You….” She moved down the counter towards him. Her hands twitched unconsciously. My good eye saw a woman that had forgotten her senses. My bad eye saw a drug addict hunting down her next fix.
She came to a stop across the counter from him. He stood there, just out of her reach, studying her the way a researcher watches a test subject.
“You.” She leaned forward as far as she could and smelled deeply of the air around him. “You… you’re a ….” She started chuckling. “Yes… you are. Oh! You are!” The same face that was judging me barely a minute earlier was now bright and happy and oozing with glee. (No. Really. I need to learn how to turn off the sight of the dead eye. Eww. That’s gross..)
“Madam. I am certain I have nothing to offer you.”
“Demon. You have everything I need. Why don’t you come with me and we’ll have a chat. I’m sure there is something I have that you would want to stick around for.” As she speaks, she is tracing the neckline of her already low shirt, drawing it lower to reveal her shiny embroidered bra.
His face wrinkled at understanding what she was insinuating. My turn to practice holding a straight face and not laugh. “Madam, I have no interest in sexual intercourse with your species.” His deadpan delivery ruined my self control, and my ungracious snort punctuated his statement.
She came back to me quickly. “How much?”
“He’s not for sale.”
“Bullshit! Everything in here is for sale, even you for a high enough price! So, how fucking much?”
“Lady, I already saw the counterfeit bills. There is nothing you have that would interest me, assuming that he was mine to give away in the first place. Which he isn’t. He is a valued guest, and I am duty bound to prevent anyone from harming him. So, let this be your only warning. If you try to do anything to him that he is not willing to do while he is here on my property, I get to break you. Please, try harder.”
“Come now, [Weaver]. Do not be so quick to justify your hostility. There is nothing she can do me. Your guard is unwarranted.” He came over and patted me on the shoulder. The gesture reached down to my innermosts where his cold touch grazed my warm soul. Indeed, me defending him was like a puppy protecting a god. Only half as cute.
“You’re still my guest. I have to at least make a show of it, for formality’s sake.”
“HEY!” The forgotten witch was still present, only now she was allowing her desperation to mar her physical appearance as well. “How did you get him here? Teach me! What do I buy? I need…”
My guest waved his hand and silenced her. “You need to reconsider the decisions you have made that led you to this point in your life. You do not need anything I have to offer, and even if you found a way to summon me, I would not assist you in your endeavor. You were entertaining earlier, when you was about to make an oath that I would seal as binding. But you are no longer entertaining. You are poisoning yourself, and have already crossed a physical line that you will not be able to fully recover from. You do not need the blood of a demon, nor any other addictive substance. You need…” He pulled his hood back from his face, allowing his [eyes] to be seen clearly. He peered into hers, seeing past the corona, the lenses, and the retina. He peered into her innermosts until she started shuddering under his fixing gaze.
He pulled his hood over his forehead as he straightened up. “You need honey for your irritated throat, and some Vitamin C drops would be helpful over the upcoming weeks. Other than that, there is nothing else here that you require, physically or psychologically. I suggest you go away now.”
He turned and patted me on the shoulder again as he left the front of the store. “You really should ward for better customers.”
“Define ‘better’, you know-it-all! Better paying, or better knowing?”
“Yes!” His one word reply was chased between the curtains by a series of harsh laughs.
I heard a sniffle and was reminded the witch was still here. I turned back to her. “So. The honey is local, with a piece of beehive in it. Unfiltered, it’s as unprocessed as the FDA allows for sale. Eight ounces for eight dollars. Wait. You still have the funny money. No, no sales to you.”
She nodded and turned away dejected. Physically, she looked like she only had a good cry. But to my dead eye, her condition drastically worsened. I waited until she had left the store completely before going to the back room and picking up the tarot cards on the table.
“You bastard, have you been cheating this whole time? Looking in my eyes to see what cards I’m holding?”
“I would not do that to you. It is much more fun when I legitimately beat you. Major Straight, by the way. I win this hand.”
“No fair! I was distracted! I should know better than to play poker with an information broker. Always quick to take advantage!”
“As always, Weaver. As always.” Malphas laughed again in corvid tones and brought the dream to an end.