Sparks in the Darkness Pt. 02

Chapter Four

Know Thy Enemy.

A low, vaporous fog coated the ground, and an eerie silence clung to the air, as Zoey and Oscar made their way through the Moth Cemetery in Astoria. The cemetery pre-dated the Great Fire, and was one of few surviving landmarks of the time. The old tombstones, faded and cracked paving stones, and weaving pathways lent the area a foreboding atmosphere.

And, the fact that it was nearly three in the morning didn't help.

"Shouldn't you be in costume?" Oscar asked, his low voice louder than intended. Experience with low-lying fog cover had him keeping his lantern-light close to the ground. When Zoey turned to him, her eyes glistened in the dark, reflecting like a cat's.

"I mean. If we meet someone in here with a pulse... I'd rather they meet Zoey. Fantisma has a habit of freaking people out. I mean, with Zoey, they might still freak out, but they probably won't panic. And, if we meet something without a pulse - I still have all my spells." Oscar nodded, barely visible in the limited moonlight. "Did you... actually used to hang out here?" she asked.

"I... didn't feel like I had anywhere else to be. And, if you combine Astoria's history, the graveyard's age; a bit of chalk and string, a candle, maybe a knife... It's enough to experiment. Enough to get in over your head."

Zoey watched his face; it had darkened, and hardened for a moment, into a suggestion of the terrifying, expressionless gaze of Octagon, the man he used to be. She nodded, and asked quietly, "Were there others here?"

"At first,"' he answered. "... not... after."

She nodded. It was the most Oscar had said about his origin story; revealing this old boneyard as his own training ground was rough on him. As he'd told her about it, Zoey had reached out and held his hand. He was so uncomfortably monotone when discussing it, even now, years later.

Just as Zoey opened her mouth to speak, a familiar scent teased at the edges of Oscar's nose, and he held up his hand in a fist, calling for 'silence'. "Smell that?" he asked. Zoey's eyes narrowed, as she raised her nose - but shook her head. "It's grave earth. Fresh grave earth."

"... a self-motivated exhumation?" Zoey asked, with a smirk. Oscar smiled back.

"I prefer 'spontaneous unburial rite'," he replied. He gestured with the lantern. After a few steps off the path, he spoke into the silence, "I just want to remind you - I'm at best a consultant. After, uh, last night... I'm sure I could cast even my simple spells right now. I'm pretty far from the Dark Power." Unbidden, the image of Zoey's alter ego, Fantisma - spread before him, writhing; her nails digging into his scalp, her heels scratching her back - surged through Oscar's mind. The dim light didn't let him see the smirk that crept across Zoey's face, and she felt a little warmth in her belly, and across her cheeks.

"I've ruined you, is what you're saying," she murmured, quietly. Her darksight let her see that Oscar was blushing - and smiling. He really had a dangerously adorable smile.

"I think you've actually improved me. Like a street dog, forgetting how to fight once he's..." Oscar froze, as Zoey heard a rustle, not too far in the distance - less than 50 feet off, but the fog clouded all sense of direction. "... hear that?" Oscar hissed.

Zoey scanned through the distance. Even able to see in the darkness, her vision couldn't grant her sight through the fog - but she could hear movement, and then - quiet.

Oscar crept a step forward, and Zoey nodded. Then, with only a moment's thought, Fantisma lifted both her feet off the ground. With a carmel purr, Fantisma's voice rolled through the fog, "Hey hey, little kittens, come on now." She allowed herself to drift forward, feeling the wind, dampness and darkness around her. "We're not here to hurt you - much." Deliberately, she allowed a dull, red light to shimmer forth from her eyes, while the bolero churned up eddies and vortices in the fog.

Even as Fantisma's eyes were glowing and held the unearthly power to see through darkness, it was Oscar pointing that made her notice the macabre display on a grave, just a few feet ahead.

The gravestone had cracked, probably long ago. Atop the grave, though, a circle had been burned into the grass, probably by barbecue starter and a lighter. A half-burned cigar soaked in a tumbler of rum, and a cut-open cat and beheaded black rooster lay in the circle; a clump of the rooster's feathers had been pulled loose and dropped on the ground. Fantisma studied the objects, as Oscar silently crossed the distance to them.

"Voodoo," Fantisma said, quietly - lightly turning the word into a question.

Oscar knelt, nodding, then, with a moment's study, sneered. He looked up at Fantisma, tapping his nose twice. As Fantisma drifted slowly upwards, he answered, speaking just "No. The trappings, but there's no... meaning, no understanding. Crude. The circle's too basic, the components aren't interacting correctly. Still," Oscar sighed. "Killed the cat - and the chicken - fresh. That takes focus. Could be our guy, but if so, he's long gone."

Fantisma sneered herself, glancing over Oscar, as she paused her upward motion. She flicked her wrist up, as if dismissively - while pointing slightly past Oscar, into the fog. "Ugh. So, there's no way we're going to get hands on this guy, by, uh, 1:30?" she said, suggesting a direction as Oscar stood up. Then, he surged, pouncing hard into the fog, as Fantisma spake Latin words of power, banishing the fog she'd summoned earlier - leaving the brash, youthful Voudun revealed, and pinned under Oscar.

Fantisma floated down, her eyes glowing red, as she snarled, "So let's talk about dead ca -" and cut herself off.

The young necromancer shrieked, "Get this asshole off of me! He's touching me! Help!"

Fantisma gasped; Oscar wrestled, trying to keep the necromancer pinned - while avoiding touching her. "... it's a girl necromancer...!" Oscar gasped.

"I'm not a necromancer!" the girl said, vehemently. Oscar may never have been an expert martial artist, but he'd been in a number of fights - and had fifty pounds on his opponent. Despite her resistance, she was pinned now; pressed against the ground, arm held up behind by Oscar - as she glared up at Fantisma. "I was practicing."

"Yeah, practicing badly," Fantisma snarked. "Any magic you have to kill cats for..."

"Sure, easy for you to say," the girl spat. Fantisma took a moment, and evaluated her. Young - under eighteen, certainly. A local to Halcyon City, by the accent. But almost certainly not from the wealthy Astoria neighborhood; sounded a lot more like King's Row.

"What are you doing out here?" Fantisma asked, adding, "Long way from home."

"Hey, can you get your thug to leggo my arm? You're a superhero, it's not like I'm gonna outrun you," the girl said.

After a brief pause, Fantisma made a dismissive wave of her hand, and said, "You know - fair. Thug...?" she paused, smirking at Oscar, who glared up at her for a moment. "Let her go."

Oscar hesitated, but nodded, and released the girl's arm. She squeaked, as if she was trying to suggest she was angry, but only managed to communicate that she was intimidated. She crawled a few feet from Oscar, and stood up. She was short; maybe 5'3" - shorter than Fantisma with her heels on, and particularly with heels and floating half a foot off the ground.

As she got up, the young woman blurted out, "Aw, shit, it really is you!" and her face abruptly beamed.

Fantisma glanced past her to Oscar, who shook his head lightly, and shrugged. Spreading her arms and fingers wide, Fantisma answered, "Yup, the real deal."

"Man, I love you! I've got clippings from when you were still Ghost Princess, tearin' shit up. You kick ass," she said, enthusiastic. "Taking down Graveyard, fighting Shadow Master, binding up demons and stuff. You saved the city like, a bunch of times! Aw, man - you didn't come out here to bust me, did you? My spell didn't even work!"

Fantisma couldn't help the corner of her mouth turning up slightly. "Well, it... had some effect. I felt a pull through astral space," she lied. Specifically, she deliberately lied, badly - in such a way that anyone who had any idea what they were doing would know the lie right away. Oscar had to turn away to stifle a laugh. Fantisma continued, "Listen, blood sacrifice is no joke. The cat, and the..."

"Yeah," she responded, looking crestfallen. "Look, I... I don't feel great about that. And it didn't work, either. But look, the cat was dying, some kidney thing. I fed it a big ass can of tuna, and gave it some sedatives. The shelter was putting her down anyway! And, like," she gestured broadly. "Chicken's a chicken, I didn't think that was a big deal." She hesitated another moment, then added, "But I do feel bad about the cat."

"Alright," Fantisma said, slightly disoriented by the turn the conversation had taken. "So, uhm. Hold on, let's, uh, start over, a little." She glided down a few inches, into easier reach, and offered the young necromancer her hand. "Fanstima. And you are...?"

"Tanisha," she said, enthusiastically shaking Fantisma's hand. "This is awesome. Like, so honoured to meet..."

"Why are you trying to learn magic, Tanisha?" Fantisma said, a little firmly, trying to keep her on topic.

Tanisha looked a little crestfallen, but tried to continue with enthusiasm. "Because I wanna get into college."

Oscar, leaning on a gravestone a few feet behind Tanisha, said, "You're trying to use magic to... charm your way into college?"

Tanisha turned towards Oscar, and gave him a dismissive look. "Hey, we're talking here," she said, before turning back to Fantisma. Fantisma smirked, meeting Oscar's outraged gaze and giving a light shake of her head. "I'm not trying to charm or cheat anybody. But the Ipswitch campus has started giving bursaries, even full ride scholarships, for students with magical talents, right? I mean. Full ride scholarships, man. That's my ticket. I get in there on a full ride, finish out their magic classes, and then I transfer over to Capital U, business school. That's where the real magic happens." Tanisha smiled, a broad, charming smile, and gave a low clap, before rubbing her fingers together.

Fantisma let herself smile, "Yeah, okay. Got it," she said, nodding, and deliberately looked past Tanisha to Oscar.

In a more serious voice, Oscar said, "Listen, We're... Fantisma is here looking for a pair of necromancers. Younger one's a guy; dark hair, pale complexion. She's older - late forties, maybe 50s, red hair, bright eyes. You might have seen them around?"

"I mean, that describes most of the people who come here," Tanisha said, and Oscar sighed. "But, her - I know her, yeah. She's been around a while, here and other places. She says her name's Lucina. Bet it's really Lucy, or Jennifer, or something. Always with her coterie of apprentices. All guys."

"Same apprentices each time?" Fantisma asked. Tanisha shook her head.

"No, she goes ripping through them. Like, she's used up at least three, this year. There's lots of wanna-bes," Tanisha shook her head. "She fucks 'em up, too. I knew one of them from school. Grant. His Mom died last year, and he - he sort of fell into this stuff, like, some really dark stuff, with spirit conjuring and stuff. I think it was his way to deal with the grief." Fantisma nodded, and she saw Oscar set his jaw.

Tanisha rocked back and forth, studying her feet as she talked. "Grant hooked up with this bitch pretty early, and he just kept getting deeper, and deeper. Haunts, blights; blood magic. Maybe... maybe Dark Power stuff. Way, way deeper than I wanted to go. But then, she adds a new guy, and just straight up ghosted Grant. And it fucked him up. He got - like, he looked, like..."

She looked up, and Fantisma nodded, for her to continue. Her eyes were wet, and she ran her arm under her nose. "My gramps was sick, like dying sick, for a while, and... Grant looked that kind of sick. He couldn't handle his shit," she nodded, with a sniffle. "He took the short way out, a few weeks ago." she added.

Fantisma blinked, and offered a hand. Tanisha nodded lightly, and she pressed her hand into Tanisha's shoulder. Behind her, Oscar nodded. "I'm sorry... about, your friend Grant."

She threw up her hands. "His magic wasn't working anymore. No magic, no options, no life," She made a motion with her hands. "Anyway, this bitch Lucinda, straight-up did not care. She was already on to the next one by then, her new meal ticket. And did the new guy care? Of course not, he was getting his, now. You know men - always thinking every time they're gonna be the one who makes it different." Tanisha nodded at Fantisma, who nodded in response - even as Oscar grimaced. "It's over and over and over with her. Treats her apprentices like a buffet," Tanisha said, her voice coming out more as a wail than she likely intended.

Fantisma said, "Okay, okay," and pulled Tanisha into a light hug. "Okay, yeah. It's okay." She rubbed the young woman's back.

"I couldn't help him," she sobbed, and Fantisma made light shh noises.

As Tanisha leaned on her, Fantisma shot Oscar a look, and mouthed, "Help me!" Oscar shook his head, clearing his own memories of turning to the Dark Power for easy solutions, and cleared his throat. "Alright. Any... any idea where we could find this Lucinda?"

Tanisha pulled a bit away from Fantisma, and shrugged. "I dunno. She's around. We don't hold club meetings, or anything. I haven't seen her in a bit." Fantisma took advantage of the distraction to pull away, a few feet, and close her own eyes for a moment to re-focus.

"Alright," Fantisma said, her voice firmer. "You said you were studying magic to try to get into school?" Tanisha turned back to Fantisma, and nodded. "I'll make you a bargain. You have a lot of power - it's untrained, very raw, but I could use it. If you give your power to me - give up magic, no more midnight cemeteries, no more killing animals - I have the power to grant your wish."

Tanisha's eyes widened. "How would you..." and Fantisma shook her head.

"Don't doubt me. Enter this bargain with me, you'll get entry into whatever business school you desire. A full run scholarship, everything paid for. Plus generous living expenses." Tanisha was already nodding, as Fantisma added, "But - if you ever call upon magic again, the bargain will be broken. You'll be left penniless - cursed, to never hold wealth or property again; it will turn to dust in your hands."

Tanisha took no time before she answered, "Okay, bet. That's exactly what I'm talking about. I will - absolutely - no magic, done."

Fantisma pulled herself up to full height, floating a few inches above the ground. She saw Oscar, looking confused, behind Tanisha, and fought to stifle a laugh.

"Okay, take this chalk," she gestured, and a white stick appeared in her hand, "And draw a circle around us." The teen hurried to obey, and as she was distracted, Fantisma made a motion to Oscar, trying to reassure him. Then, a moment's focus, to begin drawing the clouds and weather back under her command.

Once the circle was drawn - crudely, more of an oval, really - Fantisma said, "And now, give me your finger - fourth finger." As Tanisha held up her hand, Fantisma's eyelids fluttered, and her own index finger sharpened to a wicked spike.

Tanisha's eyes locked on the talon - but she didn't pull her hand back, or hesitate, other than shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot. "Alright," she said, nodding, "I'm down with it," she affirmed.

Fantisma held Tanisha's hand, then lowered the talon. "Repeat after me -

What I have is freely given;

I trade my magic for ambition;

Bargain struck and deal is made;

By my will, this price is paid!"

Tanisha repeated, and as she said "paid" Fantisma barely pricked the pad of her fourth finger. A single drop of blood swelled, and Fantisma gave an exaggerated gasp, and blinked, then allowed her eyes to glow red in the darkness. "Now - press your blood into the circle, and let our compact be sealed; your magic is mine, and your schooling shall be resolved!"

Tanisha scurried to the ground, pressed her finger to circle, as the hazy fog began to roll in again, and Fantisma gradually caused herself to rise into the air, her arms outstretched. She began to cackle, her best mad, evil witch cackle - as the circle burst into wicked green flames.

From behind Tanisha, Oscar murmured, "... you should be running."

The girl took off, into the mist, with a shriek that intermixed terror and excitement.

As Fantisma lowered herself to earth, somewhere in the fog, she and Oscar heard Tanisha yell, "I'm going to Harvard!"

After a few more moments, to make sure she was well gone, Fantisma descended through the fog, as the green flames burned themselves out.

"That was not a pact," Oscar said, sounding dubious. "You made that rhyme up on the spot. And that wasn't chalk, it was phosphorus. It lit when the fog hit it. And the floating and cackling?"

"I didn't say it was a pact. It was a bargain. I was very specific," Fantisma answered, producing a cigarillo, then lighting it from an intense, red fire from her forefinger. "Hey, she won't be sacrificing any more cats, my way. She seemed like a good kid. She's better off out of the way."

Oscar folded his arms. "So what happens when she doesn't get into business school?"

Fantisma shot him a look, eyebrow raised. "Is there a business school in America that won't let her in when Zoey daCosta writes them a letter? One text from me, and her wish is granted." She paused a moment, drew a mouthful of smoke, and then exhaled, tilting her head away from Oscar. "Come on, what's four years of a top business school cost? Two million, tops? Less, probably. Probably a lot less. I mean, fuck it; she'll find the money in her couch cushions, if I want." Fantisma smirked at Oscar's look of amused befuddlement, as she took another long pull from the cigarillo, trading it to her other hand.

As she exhaled, she set her hand on Oscar's forearm, and noticed his smile. She licked her lips, and purred, "Sweetie, Tanisha was right - business school is where real magic happens."

Chapter Five

A plan is formed. Intimacy shared.

Oscar rode the elevator up alone. Zoey - well, Fantisma - was flying home, and he was meeting her in her condo. He walked up to the front desk - "Mr. Olsen," the attendant said, looking at him with a smirk - and then straight to the elevators.

As the elevator doors opened, Fantisma said, "So this bitch is fucking devouring her way through promising young men." Her heels clicked on the tile, as she walked behind the bar, preparing her drink. "Well. 'Promising'." Another cigarillo already burned in the ashtray at the end of the bar, lending a perfumed, heavy scent to the room.

Oscar crossed in from the elevator. The corners of Fantisma's mouth twitched, as she noticed he avoided walking between the couches, neatly avoiding stepping in the spot where he'd eaten her out to moaning ecstasy two nights ago.

Oscar deliberately walked around the couches, but his eyes wandered over to them, still - and he could visualize - and, in the cigarillo's scent, still smell - the sweet-and-clove aroma of Zoey's body, spread open before him, hot to the touch, dripping wet.