Samhain Chanted Evening

I sighed at this bad joke and loaded the disc in my computer, then sat back until my screen flickered.

Wicca For Dummies ® A Loki International Company

Immediately after I read it another screen popped up and as usual there was the license agreement demanding to be read and ticked off before it would go any further. I checked it without bothering to scroll through and started the installation process. That only took a couple of minutes to finish and register, then I started to browse.

I scrolled through endless love potions and a how-to-get-that-promotion-you've-been-wanting spells. I flipped through the screens quickly. So quickly in fact, that I had to back up when I finally saw something that caught my eye.

For a personalized consultation, click here for the Wizard.

I wonder how this works? I thought, eyeing the silver pentacle that appeared on the screen. How the hell do you get a personalized consultation on a closed system? Ah, hell. There must be some sort of interface that would make things easier to find. I clicked the silver star, waiting for the screen to change.

Well, things changed all right, and suddenly I wasn't sitting in front of my monitor any more. I was on the opposite side of the room, on the floor. My chair was turned over. I rubbed the back of my head and sure enough, there was a lump. It didn't take much to figure that if I looked, I'd see the outline of the back of my head dented into the wallboard. Plus I had a tingling sensation throughout my body. There was a smell, too, and I sat up and looked at my computer. Where there used to be a self-configured 2 gig P4 system, I saw a pile of melted plastic, wires, and what might have once been printed circuit boards. The monitor wasn't much better. I didn't know 21" tubes could melt, but that one did.

"Sorry," came a voice with an odd accent from my left. "We didn't think there'd be any issues with an XP system. I guess we were wrong."

I snapped my head around, my eyes wide. He wasn't tall, maybe around 5'9" or so. He was a looker, too. Fine bones, strong features... and the most arresting blue eyes I'd ever seen. God, they made Elizabeth Taylor in her prime look washed out. And the hair. A lot of it, hanging beyond the shoulders, untied. Pure black, almost blue in this light. He held out a hand and took mine. His fingers were like ice and I snatched it back and struggled to my feet.

"Who the fuck are you?"

He shrugged and smiled. "You clicked for the wizard, didn't you? Well, here I am."

"Uh-huh. Look, tell the Voodoo Queen I'm not buying it, okay? And whatever you guys did with my computer, well, that was about sixteen hundred bucks. Not to mention what I had on the hard drive."

He smiled. "Forty gigs of mpegs featuring men screwing men... priceless, I guess."

I blushed. I also wondered how they'd gotten through my encryption, but that didn't matter right now. I struggled to my feet. "Now, seriously, who are you? And why are you here?"

He shrugged, and brushed off his long red robe. "Maybe a name would help, since you won't accept me as the wizard. Call me... Emery. Emery Merryl. You might say I'm a special acquisitions consultant for Loki International, and I'm here to help. You wanted to place a curse on someone, didn't you?"

I pursed my lips and looked at him, standing there in his full-length red robe trimmed with gold. He was a damn fine looking guy, I can say that. The eyes, the face... and oh God, I could see he had that slender build that always gets me hot and bothered. Slender, narrow wasted... oh, and I knew the legs were long and lean. They had to be the kind you liked wrapped around your neck, the ankles locked together. He cleared his throat again and I snapped out of the spell I'd fallen into.

I raised an eyebrow and tried to bring it back to business. Damn, why couldn't he wear a doublet and some tight hose?

"Hose is cold this time of year, even if it does show what I've got quite nicely," he said in that odd accent of his again. "And it does show, quite nicely, Sparrow."

I looked up. I know I hadn't said anything out loud. Did he read minds? "Sparrow?"

"Yes, I do read minds, so be careful. Sparrow now, that's what your name translates to from French. And I do so like stripping away the French overtones... Mallory got quite carried away sometimes," he chuckled at some secret joke. I didn't have a clue what the hell he was talking about, and he picked up on that quick enough and he cleared his throat. "Right, back to business. Well, Loki International would like to enter into an agreement with you. You want a curse, and we've got an assortment. What will it be? I believe you mentioned warts once. That's do-able, but rather... banal. Did you have something a bit more colorful in mind? We know you don't hold back much around your lost Lenore, but perhaps you had something better in mind."

I pictured Quinn in a sling being tortured... but hell; he'd probably get into it. I thought it over. I wanted something painful... not physical perhaps, but something that would rip him to pieces inside and fester in him. Whatever it was, I'd be willing to pay, and pay well for it. "I want my house back," I said. "And I want him to suffer. I'll sign everything else over to you. Just name what you want."

Emery raised an eyebrow. "Payment is already arranged, Sparrow. Loki International only has one interest in you, and it's already taken care of. I mean, you agreed to the terms of the software, didn't you? You checked off the "I agree" window? Of course you did, I wouldn't be here if you hadn't. And a smart businessman would have made sure to read a licensing agreement, wouldn't he? I have an idea or two about your Mr. Vere. Trust me, Sparrow."

As he said this, Emery began to wander around the room. Finally he came across the second package from Salem's Odd Lots. "Ah, I see Elizabeth made sure you got the package. Good girls, the misses Parris and Williams. They work hard for Loki. But then, they have a fierce debt to work off," he said, and tore the package open. He pulled out a flimsy white thing. "Just right. Your costume, Sparrow." He held it out to me.

It looked like a slip, just a long one. But it wasn't light and lacey. It was rough wool, bleached God knew how, and coarse. I thought of it rubbing against my skin. I didn't much like the thought.

"I'm not wearing that," I said with finality.

Emery Merryl tut-tutted me. Yeah, that what he said, "Tut-Tutt." I always thought that was something you read in bad novels. Somehow it sounded natural coming out of him. "You are asking a favor from the gods. When you ask a god for something, he expects some sort of show of sacrifice. A little rash beats the hell out of the blood of your first born... which isn't too likely in your case. Or tithing a huge chunk of your income, either. All we ask is a show of penitence and humility. The white wool is traditional. And it's not that thick and heavy, either." I looked at it and him. We waited. Finally he shrugged. "Well, I guess we could call the whole thing off."

He didn't bother to pretend to fold it, just stood there with it dangling. He knew he had me. He'd known it from the beginning. I shucked off my clothes and started pulling the scratchy material over my head.

"Ahem," he said to get my attention, and pointed down. "The little things, too. All of them."

I stood, the white robe half way over my chest. "What, my socks?"

He huffed. "No. Silly. Those white things. The body should be free, after all. Properly speaking, you should be sky-clad for this, but given the season and your age—"

"My age? I'm only 34! And what's this sky clad stuff?""

"True, but when was the last time you did more than click a remote? Believe me, sky-clad is not the route for you. It means naked. You're not that bad, but... well. Besides, it'll save us both some time later if you don't have them on."

I kicked off my Calvin's. I wasn't sure what he meant by saving us time later, but I had my hopes. Even after the crack about the remote. "What kind of accent is that, anyway? It sounds English and German at the same time."

He smiled again, showing me a row of fine white teeth. "It's both and neither, I suppose," he said, placing a white cap on my head, similar to a yarmulke, except it was large enough to sit on the top of the head, not the back of it. "I've spent simply ages in Wales. I guess it's from there."

"Wales? Weird place. How'd you wind up there?"

Emery winked one of those night-blue eyes at me. "I guess you might say the company had me buried under a mountain of work. Loki International has a strange way of doing some things."

I wanted to ask him what the hell Loki International was. On the one hand it sounded like a modern company. But what kind of company deals in spells and wizards?

"The kind of company you should be very careful of when you make a deal, Sparrow," he said coolly, turning away. Just the way he said it sent a shiver through me. "Wear your shoes. Barefoot would be best and proper, but you new folk are suck babies about things like that. Now hurry. You have company."

The doorbell rang. I looked in the mirror one more time. "Still looks like a damn slip to me!" I bitched, then went to answer the bell.

"Arthur!" it said. Or rather, Gavin said. Gavin Wayne, all 6' 4", 250 pounds of him, stood there in a perfect replica of Marilyn Monroe's gown from the Diamonds are a Girls Best Friend number in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. This would have been a showstopper all on it's own but for the blonde wig hanging to the left and one boob askew to the right. It didn't take too close a look to see the heavy makeup couldn't quite hide his five o'clock shadow. And then he smiled at me…

"Holy fuck!" I stumbled backwards instinctively. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

"Dragula, of course," he roared in his Harvey Fierstien voice. He smiled again to show off the inch long incisors that seemed to already drip blood. "And sweetie, you should talk. At least I got all the way dressed." He looked over my Night of Penance robe and grimaced. "Darlin', nobody wears slips anymore." He rubbed the material and winced. "And if they do, they don't make it out of sandpaper."

"I told you this would happen," I said, turning to glare at Emery.

Gavin looked puzzled. "Sweetie, you didn't tell me nuthin'. Last time I talked to you, you said you'd probably cut some holes in a sheet and go as Casper." He looked me over. "Which, um, might be a better idea."

"Are you going to come over here so we can go?" I said to Emery.

"Well sure," Gavin answered again, this time looking even more confused. "But since I'm in the doorway, I thought you might come to me."

Now it was my turn to look confused.

"He can't see me," Emery explained calmly. "At least, not yet. It's a lot of work to make a nonbeliever see, and I have to conserve my energy. Besides, it's supposed to be a private consultation, Sparrow. Read the license in your software agreement, Arthur. It's for a single user. Like I said, always check the fine print."

I shook my head. God, I so wanted to wake up from this insanity.

Emery pushed off from the wall he'd been leaning on and smiled. "Don't worry, I'll just tag along quietly."

"Yeah, whatever…" I grumbled.

"Don't be in such a snit, okay?" Gavin wobbled his head and then adjusted his wig after it slid down on his left ear... again. "God, you've been the bitch of death for months. I hope you don't think I'm going to hang around you all night once we get to Tom and Terry's if you keep this up."

"Sorry," I said trying to soothe him. I looked at Emery and narrowed my eyes. "I have some issues I'm trying to work out."

"That's okay, Arthur," Gavin smiled again and I shuddered. "I understand, this is going to be a tough one. You haven't actually seen Quinnie since that day in court, have you?"

I closed one eye and twisted my lips. "You mean the day he stole my life from me? No, I haven't."

Gavin opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment the door was flung open and Lenore swirled in. She was wearing her Samhaim finery. A long, black silk opera cape, and under it a brocaded gold flowing gown.

"Well, well," Gavin grinned at her. "If it isn't our very own Queen of the Damned."

"You can knock that shit off," she frowned at him. "I don't believe in Hell, so how could I be its queen? Besides, you're the only damned queen I see in here. And have you thought about seeing a dentist for that overbite?"

"Very funny," he shrugged. "So, have you changed your mind? Are you going to dump those stuffy old witches and go with us to Tommy and Terry's for some real Halloween fun?"

Lenore shook her head wearily. "You know, if I didn't understand the level of your ignorance, I'd be insulted." Lenore smiled sweetly. "Tonight is Samhaim, the last night of the year. The earth sleeps, and we must set it gently to bed. Halloween is a Christian perversion of something sacred. How would you like it if I invited you to an orgy on Christmas Day?"

Gavin pushed his tits up in a vain attempt to get them even again. "Let's see. A day with my family, or an orgy? Ooooo, I'd say you name the place and I'd be there. Even if you're part of the package."

Lenore sighed, and invoked the sky theatrically, "Why do I bother? Why must I always walk among the heathens?"

"I am not a heathen, Endorra. I am a Catholic," Gavin said archly, and slid his hands seductively down his dress in bad parody of Marilyn. "Twelve years of parochial school, both an altar and choir boy. And this is how you turn out."

She looked him over in the dress. "Gee, the Pope must be so proud."

"Especially when I told him I'd help with his makeup," Gavin snickered, wandering towards the living room. "Arthur? Do what ever you and the Witchy Woman got to do so we can go. God, what'll I do in this thing when I have to pee?"

"Just aim it straight up and take a warm shower, honey... just pretend you're on a regular date." Lenore scored her parting point and started to walk towards the kitchen then stopped and looked at me. Or rather, by me. "Who's your friend?"

"Huh?" I said stupidly.

"Your friend," she said, and pointed at Emery. Her eyes flashed. It wasn't a happy look. "That guy... who is he?"

"I thought you said nobody could see you?" I whispered without moving my lips.

"I said nonbelievers couldn't see me," he corrected me softly.

Lenore was staring hard at Emery, "I know you," she said, and their eyes locked.

"Gavin will you go warm the car up?" I interrupted.

"Why? I just drove it here."

"Please," I looked at him hard in the face. "I need to talk to Lenore. Alone."

"Oh, okay, but hurry up!" Gavin teetered out on his size 13 heels and slammed the door behind him.

I turned to find Lenore staring at Emery. From the looks of it she definitely didn't like what she saw.

"What's going on here?" She said quietly, never taking her eyes of my new friend. "This isn't right…"

I saw Emery's lips move, and his hands caress the air, and the lowest of sounds was around me, a buzzing. God, it was annoying. I turned to tell him to knock it off, but he brushed past me quickly and made it to Lenore and caught her, just as she collapsed.

"What the hell have you done?!" I hissed.

"Relax," he grinned back at me as he half carried, half drug my limp roommate over to the couch. "She's just taking a little nap. She'll be fine in about 20 minutes. And best of all, she won't remember a thing."

"Okay, that's it!" I ran my fingers through my hair. "I don't know what you did to her, but if she isn't perfectly okay…"

"She is," Emery walked over and ran his hands down my arms. I shivered from the icy contact. "Trust me on this. I promise. If you call her in twenty minutes, you'll see she'll be fine."

"She better be or I'll, I'll…" What could I threaten him with? He was already dead, for God's sake. Well, he was cold anyway, and a corpse is cold, right? He breathed, though. I could see his chest rise and fall.

I walked over to Lenore and knelt down beside her. She did look okay. Her breathing was nice, and even and as I watched, a smile played over her face and she sighed contentedly. I looked back at Emery, still not sure how to deal with him after this.

He smiled. "I gave her a good dream. Michelle Geller and all the women from Sex in the City. She's a happy girl right now."

I got up and went and got my coat. "Twenty minutes, and I'm calling."

He nodded and followed me out to the car.

The trip to Terry and Tommy's was uneventful. I never opened my mouth, just stared out the window as we traveled across town towards my old neighborhood.

Terry and Tommy—T 'n' T— had been neighbors. Two old queens who'd lived in their Frank Lloyd Wright for almost thirty years, and talked about the bad old days when the neighborhood wasn't full of yuppies and gays who liked houses and hated kids and therefore didn't give a shit that the school system sucked. When Terry and Tommy moved in, most nights were filled with sirens and the occasional gunfire. Nobody left their cars in the streets if they wanted to keep their radios and tires. But that was a long time ago. When I bought my house almost 10 years before it was the only place left on the block that hadn't already been renovated.

We drove past it now and I sighed as I looked at the Creamsicle color scheme. I felt a hand on my shoulder and Emery's head next to mine as he whispered, "Yours?"

I nodded and he squeezed me a little bit in sympathy.

We finally found a parking space a block and a half away from the party. This was always a huge bash. Tom and Terry invited half the city and everyone that lived in a twelve block radius just to insure no unscheduled appearances by the police. That's the main reason Quinton was still on the guest list. T 'n T couldn't stand him after what he'd pulled on me, they barely tolerated him before that, but they knew he was just slime enough to call the boys in blue if he didn't get his usual invite.

Gavin set the break and started to crawl out of the car. I tried to follow, but Emery had kept his hand on my shoulder and now it was keeping me in place.

"Well come on," Gavin tugged on his boob and looked at me impatiently.

"I need to speak with you first," Emery told me.

"I'll be along in a minute," I told Gavin and then when he didn't look like he was buying it, I added. "I think I need a minute."

Immediately Gavin's face softened. "That's okay sweetie, take all the time you need." He threw the keys at me. "Just lock up when you get out. Last year I forgot and two guys used my backseat and the seat belts as their own private sling. Took me weeks to get the stains out of the upholstery."

I waited until he was out of sight before turning to face Emery. "Okay, what's so important?"

"A couple of things, actually. But first, why don't you get back here out of the light?"

He had a point. The streetlight illuminated the front, but not the back seat of the car. I decided it would be easier just to crawl over the seat, but I'd forgotten the last time I'd actually done that had been when I was about 12 and foot shorter than I am now.

It started out okay, but then my coat got caught on the headrest and I found myself sort of just hanging there with my arms pinned behind me. Emery leaned forward and tried to help, but it wasn't until my coat finally gave into the strain of my full weight that I came free. It was so sudden I fell flat on Emory, pushing him down until he was almost off the bench seat and jammed into the area that's never big enough for your feet.

"Sorry," I muttered, embarrassed.

"Perfectly alright," he protested and I realized from the growing bulge that he was pushing into my hip that he was telling the truth.