Cornelius
by Joseph W. Patterson
They say there is a crossroads, somewhere in Mississippi, where a hoodoo ritual can be performed, to make the devil appear.
If you wanted to become proficient in a particular skill, such as playing guitar or throwing dice, all you had to do was give him a symbol of your desire and he’d make you its master.
Some legends are true, most are what people would like to believe. It is true that something will appear and help you with what you think you need, but it’s not the devil. The devil rarely ventures from his domain. Bargaining for souls is a myth. What can be believed, beyond the shadow of doubt, is that dark things can be summoned, if the right spell is cast.
Cornelius had no concerns about the crossroads of Mississippi, or the beasts that manifest there. Kansas is the place where all worlds intertwine, overlap, and sometimes merge, so a hoodoo ritual isn’t needed to summon the dark inhabitants of the underworld. They already roam over the plush hills and haunt the Great Plains.
The reason he was here, amongst the wandering demons and the restless ghosts, was a child. His name was Tommy Bendle, and his soul was lost.
What was left of his body was found a mile from his home. According to the coroner’s report, the cause of death was a cougar mauling, but Cornelius knew better. Cougars may kill people, but they don’t shred their bodies to pieces and spread their remains in a Viswali ritual to steal their souls.
Cornelius was at the crossroads in Kansas, waiting for some sort of sign as to what creature has taken the boy’s soul and why. He knew the culprit had to pass through there, as very few beings have the knowledge and power to steal a soul and transport it through the myriad dimensions. The few creatures that can are not soul snatchers, but soul creators.
Cornelius was prepared for anything. Candles had been lit and are burning at the four corners of the crossroads to alert him of his adversary’s arrival. A Bible was lying before him, open on Psalm 37 for protection. And a jar of chamber lye was in place, ready to act as a receptacle.
He was ready, so he waited.
He breathed in the aroma of the nearby cornfield and the wheat field beyond, enabling their sweet fragrance to empower and set his mind at ease. He arched his grotesquely scarred back to relieve the pressure from sitting too long. He was familiar with pain. It’s all he’s known. From the first crack of his master’s whip, when he was eleven, to the demon he banished yesterday. Pain was his lifelong companion, sorrow his mistress. He shucked hope’s embrace when he was damned a century ago.
“Who is the vile creature that would slaughter a child and attempt to take his soul from my realm?” Cornelius called out to the night sky.
He felt the presence of his quarry and from the rift between worlds it asked, “Who is this little hoodoo man trying to capture me in a jar of piss?”
Cornelius was taken aback. His spell should have worked. Only a few demons in existence could resist his words. This was quite an unexpected turn of events. He had no plan B.
“I’ll ask again. Who the fuck are you?”
“I need not reveal myself to a mortal, even an ancient one such as yourself. I have journeyed low from upon high to gather one of the purest souls ever to have existed, in order to free the universe from itself. You wish to know who I am? You wish to know what I am? Behold and bow to your creator!”
Cornelius did more than bow; he was brought to his knees. The creature revealed its true form, and it was the most magnificent, inspiring, and frightening thing he’d ever beheld.
“Yes, little hoodoo man! I am beyond your little charms and spells! I am beyond what your small mind can grasp of what is and what should be! I was ancient when your simple souls were moulded and placed in this reality! And yet, you think your magics, your superstitions, your pathetic heroics can stop me from doing what needs to be done? Little mortal, little hoodoo man, I have become one with all there is and will be. Stand aside, or be destroyed.”
It was an angel. Its glorious influence was almost too much for Cornelius to bear, but he had a soul to save.
Cornelius stood and said, “I don’t know where angels go when they die, but I guess we’re about to find out.”
The angel smiled and was on Cornelius faster than the eye can blink. He grabbed him by the shirt collar and with a flap of his wings they were fifty feet in the air. In a second, they were in the clouds, the sheer force of their ascension tearing Cornelius’s shirt apart.
He started to fall, but the angel caught him by the arm and throat.
“If you must know, little hoodoo man, I cannot be destroyed. I am what I was in the beginning, and what I will be when it begins again. I am eternal.”
They fell towards the centre of the crossroads, but right before they hit, the angel banked towards the cornfield. They flew at the speed of death, and the clothes that were left on Cornelius were shredded by the sharp leaves and rough stalks of the crop.
“Your body is torn and battered, little hoodoo man. I sense you are not long for this world. When your body can no longer contain your soul, I will take you. I will take you to a place that is beyond your reckoning. I will take you there and leave you to rot.”
The angel flew into the wheat field, choking the life from Cornelius while simultaneously snatching his soul. The injuries Cornelius sustained from being dragged through the corn field were horrendous, but the wheat was far worse.
The leaves and stems sliced through his flesh as if they were razors. Some of his wounds were so deep that they scratched the bone. Kernels of wheat embedded themselves in his open wounds, his blood pouring to the ground as arteries and veins were severed.
With his last ounce of life, he reached for the angel’s wing and pulled it down.
The angel crashed into the wheat field, tumbled fifty yards and came to a stop on a country road. It was uninjured but momentarily unable to move.
With great effort, it was able to get to its feet just as Cornelius approached.
“What have you done to me, hoodoo man?”
“I’m not a little hoodoo man anymore!” Cornelius said with a smirk on his face.
“What have you done? Why am I grounded here?”
Cornelius staggered to the road, wiping bloody kernels from his skin.
“I asked for help,” Cornelius replied, pointing to the other side of the road.
The angel turned and was enraged by what he saw. A cow was standing on the tip of its wing.
“Be gone, you beast!” the angel screamed.
The cow ignored the angel and its command. It just continued to chew its cud, thinking its cow thoughts.
“How did you do this to me? Tell me!”
Cornelius held up a feather he’d plucked from the angel’s wing and said, “I know who you are now, Simiel. And I have the boy’s soul.”
The angel looked under his wing and realized what Cornelius said was true. The boy’s soul was gone.
“You must give it back! You know not the forces at play here, hoodoo man! That soul must leave with me!”
The angel struggled against the cow for a time, but to no avail. Then he sat quietly in meditation.
“What are you doing?”
Simiel said nothing. He simply sat and mumbled to himself. After a while, a green hue appeared over the angel’s head, which grew brighter as the seconds passed, until a halo materialised.
Cornelius walked slowly toward Simiel, with the feather in his hand and a solemn look on his face, and he snatched the halo.
“I’m gonna need this.”
“No!” the angel screamed, reaching for his halo.
Cornelius examined his prize while Simiel struggled to free himself from the cow’s hoof.
“Now I not only know who you are, I know where you live. I’m going to free the boy’s soul so he can get on to wherever he needs to go. Then I’m going to find out why you did this. If it ain’t on the up and up
, I’m going to kill you, Simiel.”
Simiel was stunned. He bowed his head to Cornelius and said, “As you wish, hoodoo man.”
Cornelius raised the feather and said, “Be gone.”
Simiel was banished to a place that Cornelius hoped he’d never have to go.
Then he collapsed.
When Cornelius came to, he had no idea how long he’d been lying on that dusty Kansas road. It was still dark, but when he looked around, the cow was nowhere in sight.
He used the halo to enhance his healing spell, but he was still in no shape to move from the road, so when he sensed someone coming towards him, he thanked his gods for the opportunity of rescue.
“Greetings, Cornelius,” the stranger said. He could tell he was in no danger because demons are never polite.
The figure moved closer. It was a woman.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Ayesha Swanson,” the figure said. “I work for UKXD. I’ve come to ask for your assistance. Sorry I’m late.”
“Did you see the angel?”
“I did. What was up with that?”
“I don’t know,” Cornelius replied.
He held the feather out to Ayesha. “Dip this in the chamber lye, and then pour the lye in the crossroads. The boy will be set free.”
“What about the halo?”
“It stays with me. It’ll help me heal.”
“How is it that an angel steals a soul?” Ayesha asked.
Cornelius didn’t answer because he had no answers. He just laid back on a dusty crossroads, somewhere in Kansas, and lost himself in thought.