Black Magick: A Sinister Romance

  “But I do,” I insisted, keeping up with him on the trail. “Like you said, I have a natural talent for it.”

  “I never said that,” he said. “I said you had potential. That’s two different things.”

  We got to the clearing, and Ian set everything up. I drew the triangle on the ground. Again, it was perfect.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “Oh, I made sure to draw one of the points facing east. I read that facing east represents new beginnings, and you want immortality—”

  He slapped the last word right out of my mouth. I stumbled back, then regained my balance. I was startled, and my cheek burned with the sting of his slap.

  “Redo it,” he said. “And face the points where I initially told you to.”

  I was stunned. I felt frozen. It took me a few moments to regain my movement. I moved my jaw back and forth a few times. He had hit me hard.

  I tried not to let the tears fill my eyes as I blurred the triangle on the ground and formed a new one. I re-drew it the way he had initially told me.

  “Atta girl,” he said, smiling and rubbing my cheek, but it only burned.

  I watched him intently as he started the ritual. I’m not sure why—maybe to be ready if he were to hit me again. But I watched like a hawk, and I learned all the movements he made. The ritual was the same one he had done the first time we met in the woods. He spoke the same words. He kissed me. He stabbed the knife (which he called an “athame”) deeply into the ground. We gathered up the items, and left. Before we parted ways, he kissed my lips gently, as if nothing bad had happened.

  And I was ashamed when I felt that I still wanted to be his.

  I didn’t want to fight my feelings. I wanted to be his, still, even after what he had done. But I couldn’t deny that something had somehow changed. The energy between us just wasn’t the same for the next few days.

  He’d let me hang around him during lunch, although he didn’t say much. We didn’t kiss or hold hands at all, even though I still wanted that, and more. Ian, on the other hand, didn’t seem as eager. So I sucked my bottom lip secretly in remembrance of his kisses.

  When I sat behind him, I passed him notes that he would take but never give back. He’d chuckle sometimes after reading them, so I knew he liked them.

  It was an ordinary day of daydreaming about his kiss and passing him notes when I saw it—his backpack was on the floor like a mound of dirty laundry, as usual. Only this time, it was open. Only this time, I could see the Necronomicon nestled inside. My heart raced. How lucky of me to find the Necronomicon between Algebra and Geography books. How lucky of me to be sitting in the back, next to the wall where no one could see what I was seeing. How lucky of me that Ian got up to use the restroom, leaving his backpack unattended.

  How lucky of me that the Necronomicon sat open on my bed that very night.

  I hungrily leafed through the pages, taking it all in. Ian had found way more information than I had on the internet. He had hand-written the entire thing. The Necronomicon was full of rituals and spells and potions. Half of it was a strange language, with odd geometrical shapes, but I didn’t care for any of that. What I could understand was plenty.

  Around 8pm, Ian must have realized the book was missing from his backpack. He sent me an alarmed text, saying that maybe we shouldn’t meet at midnight like we had planned to. Saying that he couldn’t find the grimoire. I texted him back, saying that we should especially meet that night—maybe the book had been lost somewhere along the trail in the woods. I hit “send” and placed the Necronomicon under my bed. Then I went to meet him.

  The moon was now cut in half, and it was a lot darker out. Still, his pale skin seemed to glow under the dim lights of Hill Crest Park. His cigarette smoke formed ghostly tendrils around his face.

  “Don’t worry, it will turn up,” was the first thing I said as I approached him. I pulled back my hoodie and leaned my face up for a kiss.

  “I hope so, Violet,” he said, looking deeply into my eyes. He leaned in and kissed me tenderly, but briefly. “That book could be dangerous in the right hands,” he said.

  He wasted no time. I followed him, and this time he helped me hop the fence. I watched as Ian scanned the trail with the light of his cell phone, trying to find the book. I acted like I was looking, too. I didn’t feel bad because I wasn’t a thief. I would give the book back, eventually. He had slapped me, and I wanted him to suffer for it, if only for a little while. I had proven myself worthy of looking in the book, anyway, so I did.

  When we reached the clearing, Ian’s shoulders were slumped.

  “Let’s forget about it tonight,” I said. “Let’s do the ritual anyway, and look for the book somewhere else, some other time.”

  He approached me, and I flinched. I relaxed when he ran his fingertips through the back of my head. He tangled his fingers with my locks, gently. “You’re right,” he said, then he kissed my forehead.  “You’re such a good girl.”

  I traced the triangle on the ground the way he liked. He seemed surprised that I was able to follow the ritual perfectly. When it was time to kiss, I bit his bottom lip.

  He pulled back, touching the small spot of blood that had emerged. “You’re feisty,” he said with a sneer.

  Still, I kept my eyes closed, like the good girl he wanted me to be. I was worthy, and I knew it.

  Is that why I felt so… different?

  I barely slept that night. I read the Necronomicon until I fell asleep. Ian wasn’t at school the next day. He was probably recovering from the ritual. But while he felt ‘tired’, I felt energized. I brought the grimoire to school and read it every chance that I got—during class, in the girls’ restroom, in the far corner of the library during lunch. Everything made perfect sense to me—I truly was a natural.

  I texted Ian several times that night, trying to convince him to come out with me to the clearing. He didn’t want to. Not only was he tired, but he also couldn’t find the Necronomicon (still). Well, duh. I had it. But I wasn’t going to tell him that. So instead of going out into the woods, I took that time to read the Necronomicon again. I would read it nine times before giving it back.

  “Hey, Ian,” I said during lunch. I found him hanging out under the bleachers this time. “Are you chain-smoking coffin nails?”

  Ian rolled his eyes. “I don’t know where it could be,” he said. He patted the ground next to him—an invitation for me to sit down.

  I didn’t. I held the book in my hand behind my back. With one swift motion, TaDa! I pulled the book out and showed him.

  Ian instantly lunged at it. “Where did you find it??”

  “Buried,” I replied. He looked over the book, which I had stained with dirt. “You must have dropped it under the shoe box and buried it.” I made sure my tone made him feel stupid. And small. Like a verbal slap in the face.

  “You are a Goddess!” He planted a kiss on my lips. I smiled proudly.

  “So then we’re going tonight?” I asked.

  “Hell yes, we’re going tonight.”

  I sat in the clearing with the flashlight of my phone on. I looked up at the cloudless sky. It was littered with little sparkly stars, but no moon. The new moon. The invisible moon.

  “It’s time,” Ian said, so I stood and took my usual place in the triangle. He lit the candles around us, then paused. “Did you… Did you look through the book?”

  I shook my head ‘no’. He smiled. I could almost hear him inside my head: “Atta girl.”

  Ian instructed me to close my eyes, which I did. I heard his voice begin the chant from deep within him. I heard him take the first step. That’s when I said it.

  “Sei mia ora, nel nome di Manol.”

  I opened my eyes. Ian stopped in his tracks, wide-eyed.

  “What are you—?”

  “Sei mia ora, nel nome di Manol,” I chanted. Ian stood, frozen, looking li
ke a criminal caught red-handed. “Sei mia ora, nel nome di Manol!”

  “No!” Ian lunged at me, and I raised both of my hands to him, palms open. That halted him a few feet from me. I felt the energy emanating from me, stopping him like an invisible wall. Nothing but fear showed in his eyes.

  “You are mine now, in the name of Manol,” I chanted. “With all the natural powers of black magick bestowed upon me, and the ethereal cord slapped onto my face with your merciless blow, we are tied together now. I am your master, and you are subservient to me now. It is done.”

  Ian’s eyelids blinked slowly, heavily. He stood up straight, no longer trying to charge at me. I lowered my hands and tried to steady my breathing.

  I beckoned him to me with a finger. Come hither.

  He stepped closer to me, blinking his eyes as if trying to wake up from a dream and failing miserably. My hand reached out like a whip and slapped him.

  “Redo the triangle,” I commanded. “The point needs to face east.”

  Without a word, he did as told. “Atta boy.”

  Once the triangle was cast, he fed me the whiskey. I pointed the knife to the sky, then stabbed it into the ground. The magick was done. He obediently placed the items back in the shoe box, all except the book. He handed the Necronomicon to me with both hands.

  I was the master and the one in charge. My whole being felt transformed. I knew it had been. Ian now followed me out of the woods. He’d be the one doing the following from then on. Of course, I wanted to be his. But, isn’t it just as good that he is mine now?

  The End

  ****

  About Magick

  What you just read is a work of fiction—all the characters and practices in this story are not real. This short, sinister romance was written merely to entertain you, and it doesn’t reflect at all what magick truly is.

  If you’d like to know more about what magick really is, there are several books, websites, and YouTube channels dedicated to the topic. Please don’t jump to conclusions based on this short story because it came straight from my imagination, and not reality.

  Thank you very much for downloading this book!

  Sincerely,

  Yari Garcia

  Enjoy this FREE Preview of my upcoming book

  Bryexe: She Lives in a Dollhouse

  Coming Halloween 2015

  ****

  Bryexe: She Lives in a Dollhouse

  Copyright 2015 by Yari Garcia

  Chapter One

  Bryexe was unlike any girl Aidan had ever seen. He looked at her from a few desks away. His brown eyes took in her pale skin, magenta lips, and sharply drawn-in eyebrows. She wore a tiny top hat clipped to the side of her pin-straight hair. He noticed her hair was so black that it had a tinge of blue in it. He felt like he could drown in its darkness.

  If Aidan could describe her with words, he would choose “mysterious,” “mesmerizing,” “kaleidoscopic,” and many more of those New Age-y, mystical-sounding words.

  Aidan had already made up his mind to ask her out. He’d never seen her hanging out with another guy, so she had to be single. He’d actually never seen her hanging out with anyone, for that matter. She didn’t seem to have any friends. He’d be the first one to strike up a conversation with her, get to know her, and ask her out. There’s no way she would say no. A loner like her would jump at the chance of going out with a popular guy like Aidan.

  Bryexe’s eyes looked down at her book, long fake lashes pointing at the pages. When the bell rang, she simply closed her book and slipped it into her coffin-shaped purse. As the students left the classroom, Aidan purposely trailed behind to walk alongside her.

  “Kaleidoscopic?” Bryexe asked him casually as they both stepped out of the classroom. “I like that. That’s a new one.”

  Aidan felt a chill roll up his spine. She flashed him a mischievous smile. Students bumped into him when his knees locked and he just stood in the hallway, watching her walk away, a dumbfounded look on his face.

  “Move it!!” some kid yelled, and he snapped out of it. He quickly shuffled the opposite way, thinking maybe it was best not to ask her out. Or even talk to her.

  At all.

  Chapter Two

  “Ooo, a cat whisker!” Bryexe cooed as she picked the stiff little hair from her arm warmer. She took a glass vial from her purse, uncorked it, and placed it inside with the other whiskers. The girls at the next lunch table were disgusted and turned their backs to her.

  “What the heck?” one of the girls said, but Bryexe paid no mind. She needed the whiskers to make a protective poppet for her cat.

  “THAT’S the girl! The one I told you about!” Aidan said to his friend and elbowed him in the ribs. His friend shifted away from him uncomfortably.

  “Are you sure that’s her, Aidan?” his friend asked sarcastically. “Are you sure you’re pointing at the right girl?”

  Aidan looked around the lunch room. Every student was busy eating, laughing, and playing around. Then there was Bryexe. The tables in her radius were empty, save for one, and she stood out with her eccentric and dark look.

  Aidan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the only girl that looks like Hot Topic’s CEO. I guess I don’t even need to point.”

  “Pfft, so what’s so scary about this girl?” his friend asked. “She’s goth, so what? Tons of girls are goth.”

  “But not like this one, man,” Aidan insisted. “She knew what I was thinking, like she could hear it. I think she read my mind. She’s creepy as hell!”

  “Didn’t you want to ask her out yesterday?”

  “Why don’t you ask her out?” Aidan shot back. “Matter ‘fact, I dare you. Let’s make a bet.”

  His friend gave him a condescending look. “Seriously? A bet? That’s what we’re doing now?”

  “I bet you a hundred you won’t. One look from that girl, and you’ll creep out too.”

  His friend whistled loudly. “Man… one hundred bucks? There’s a new system coming out next month. I could use the discount...”

  He thought for a moment. He looked over at Bryexe, and he couldn’t remember a time when she was not sitting by herself. Even though a group of girls sat at the next table, they never seemed to talk to her or have any interest in her. He was sure she’d be happy to go out with someone, and he’d make $100 in the process. It would be a win-win situation. “Alright, you’re on.”

  “Hey, this seat taken?”

  Bryexe looked up to see Liam Cobain, the cute guy that Aidan was always hanging around with.

  “I see you had surgery to remove Aidan from your hip,” Bryexe said. “How did it go, Cobain?”

  Liam forced a laugh as he sat down. “He’s alright, don’t worry about him. And just call me Liam, by the way.”

  Liam fixed his green eyes on her, determined to woo her.

  “I like your last name better,” she said. “Cobain—like the dead singer. But Liam works too.”

  Liam forced a smile.

  Bryexe looked straight into his eyes. An awkward silence fell over the table. Liam held the eye contact, not wanting to be the first one to look away. Bryexe’s eyes didn’t waver.

  Before things got any weirder, Liam casually asked, “So, pretty fascinated with dead singers, are we?”

  “Not particularly,” Bryexe replied, her icy blue eyes boring into his. “But I’m not particularly fond of the living, either.”

  Liam smiled, and she found him handsome. He was pretty ordinary by her standards, but his smile was perfect—his canines were long, making him look vampiric, and he had a cute overbite—all the things Bryexe found irresistible in a guy. He had no baby fat on his thin face, and his brown hair was thick and perfectly messy.

  “Listen, there’s a dance on Friday. I want you to go with me,” he said, going for the kill.

  “What is this, a teen movie?” Bryexe scoffed. “Aidan over there just paid you to take me out—most
likely a bet.”

  Embarrassed, Liam shifted in his seat. He broke the eye contact and looked down at his hands.

  “I’ve watched Ten Things I Hate About You and every other teen movie from the ‘90s.” She continued, “How much did he bet?”

  Liam got up to leave. “One hundred bucks.”

  “Well, sit your skinny jeans back down,” Bryexe commanded. “You can take me out, but I want half.”

  “You want fifty bucks to be taken out?” Liam asked in disbelief, flopping back down on his chair.

  “Hello?? Have we forgotten how incredibly insulting your bet was? We’ll go out, but we’re not going to a stupid school dance. We’re going somewhere else—I pick the place and what we do. You got that?”

  Liam sighed. “Whatever you say.”

  “Good,” Bryexe said with a triumphant smile. She took out a black Chinese fan from her purse and opened it with a swoosh! She covered her face with it, then lowered it to show only her bright eyes. Her eyelashes were impossibly long and dark. “Now go tell Aidan you’ve dazzled me with your intellect.”

  She winked at him, and he could swear he felt a rush of cold from her icy blue eyes. Liam stood, forcing a sly smile as if he had just won an argument. He tried not to stumble as he walked back towards Aidan with shaky knees.

  “So, tell me,” Aidan said as Liam sat down. “What happened?” More of his friends had arrived at the table. Having already heard the story from Aidan, they all looked at him, amused and waiting to see what he had to say.

  “What do you think happened? She said yes right away,” Liam lied. “That girl’s never been asked out. I’ll probably skip the dance and take her to a movie or something. Girl needs to get out. I feel sorry for her, always sitting by herself…”

  Liam Cobain was trying to act smooth as he rambled on, but from the paleness in his face, Aidan knew the girl had scared him too.

  Chapter Three

  The bell on the door chimed as Liam entered the dimly-lit coffee shop. He was welcomed by the soft murmur of hushed conversations, tangled with the sound of soft jazz playing in the background. The aroma of roasted coffee beans instantly perked him up. He felt a tingling sensation in his stomach when he spotted Bryexe. She was wearing a corset top, a fluffy skirt, and Lolita shoes—the outfit was a combination of pitch black and neon green colors.