The End - For Now

This is the end of Superstition - Book 1 - Something Wicked This Way Comes

I will be taking two weeks off, while I plot the next adventure of Dashiell and Regina. Please check back on Saturday, June 7, for chapter 1 in the next book.

Thanks for reading - I hope you've enjoyed it.

In the meantime, please feel free to check out my other on-going project, An Empire of Law.

Chapter 30

Dashiell was frozen in a moment of silent horror as that gaping maw came closer and closer to his exposed fist, held out for feeding on, as if the now dead zombie clamped onto his arm was holding it out for its still moving companion.

Suddenly, Dashiell heard a loud report and the zombie’s head was ripped off at the jaw line. Its lower jawbone, filled with rotting teeth, hit the ground in front of his knee, unmoving. He said a silent thanks to the Gods and to the police sniper hidden out of sight who had remembered to aim for the head.

Dashiell wasted no more time, prying the dead hand off his arm and regaining his feet. Shots were ringing out as the snipers opened up on the undead and Dashiell and Regina joined in, whenever a walking corpse got close enough to pose a threat.

As the number of undead diminished, so did the fog surrounding Dashiell and Regina. They stood back to back, facing out into the thinning mists.

“What the hell happened Dash? You threw salt in that thing’s face and it just kept coming.”

“Well, Regina,” Dashiell replied calmly, shooting another zombie through the forehead, “apparently these zombies don’t subscribe to Haitian beliefs. It was worth a try. But I didn’t really expect it to work. At that point, I was desperate.”

“And what about the flame? It went out at pretty much the perfect time. Did you do that?” By now the numbers of undead were dwindling.

“In a manner of speaking. One of the last calls I made tonight was to a friend of mine. I asked him to drop by the local terminal for the gas company and cut the feed to the cemetery. Apparently, he got past security.”

“He was cutting it a little close, don’t you think, Dash?”

“Well, he doesn’t exactly have access to the place. Also, I didn’t want him to cut the gas too early, or else the witches wouldn’t be here. They needed to be involved in the spell. Although I’ll admit, it was a little close for comfort.”

With a final crack from a sniper’s rifle, the last body hit the ground. Dashiell looked around. The plateau was littered with corpses, and two very scared women laying on thr ground. Regina went over and cuffed them, then called for an EMT team when she saw that the older witch was apparently covered with burned flesh.

“Dashiell, what the hell did you throw at this woman, napalm?”

“Holy water actually. Not sure if it was the holy aspect, or just the water that did it though. She should be okay, though. The burns don’t look that bad. Besides, she’s not my biggest concern.”

“She’s not?”

“No. I’m much more worried about the one who got away. From what I could tell, she was the leader of this coven. She took the lead in the spell and was clearly the most experienced at wielding magic. And she’s still out there, somewhere.”

“I got a pretty decent look at her face, when I bluffed the younger one. I’ll have the department put out an APB on her and I’ll pass it on to the FBI,” Regina said.

“We’ll have to hope that’ll work. Although something tells me, we’ll be seeing her again. At any rate, we’re not likely to find her tonight. Think you can handle the clean up, Regina? It appears my role in this affair is over. I think I’ll leave the rest to the real cops.”

Regina smiled at his sarcasm. “Get out of here, Dash. And thanks for your help. We’d never have solved this one without you. I promise, I’ll make sure the Captain knows how essential you were to the investigation.”

“Thanks Regina.” He turned to go when she called out to him.

“Hey Dash! Don’t you want your bead back?” She toyed with the item in question.

“Keep it, Regina. I think you’re going to need it.”

Chapter 29

Regina’s head snapped up as Dashiell said this and turned to follow the aim of his gun. A mist had sprung up from the damp ground, cloaking the region in a gray fog. There was virtually no light as the fog rose to blot out the stars. With no moon visible, that left Dashiell and Regina in an eerily dark world, where sound was magnified.

“Regina,” Dashiell whispered, his voice echoing loudly, “can your snipers see through this?”

“Depends Dash,” came the reply, sounding farther away than he knew Regina to be.

“On what?”

“On whether or not zombies show up on night vision goggles.”

The whole time, Dashiell had been scanning the scene with his eyes, looking for the telltale signs of movement in the mists. And he was straining his ears to try and isolate the shambling sound he could hear coming from all around them.

“Stay where you are, Regina. I’m going to try and offer us some protection.” So saying, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of salt. He dribbled it out upon the ground, walking in front of where Regina was last standing and then circling around a large area.

Salt was a universal spell component, especially in circles of protection. And since salt was supposed to send zombies back to their graves, he had high hopes it would repel them.

He was about halfway through the circle, behind Regina, when a ghostly hand reached out of the mists and clamped onto his arm. Its grip was like cold steel, even through the protective spells woven into the jacket. Dashiell cursed loudly, causing Regina to spin around with a cry.

“Regina, watch your back!” The mists had started to swirl, revealing a circle of undead figures in various states of decomposition closing in on the pair. Dashiell turned his attention back to the zombie that had latched onto him, bringing his gun up, pressing it into the soft, melting flesh of the forehead and pulling the trigger.

The thing’s head exploded in a fine grey spray and it fell heavily to the ground. Dashiell’s exaltation was quickly quashed as he noted that the iron grip did not let up with the death of the zombie’s mind. Instead, it reverted back to its more natural state, the metacarpals still locked firmly on his forearm.

The unexpected weight jerked him off balance and he flailed his gun arm wildly to keep his balance. He failed and went down on his left knee.

Shots rang out from Regina’s gun as she rotated checking her nine, twelve and three o’clock, covering her half of the circle, sending a variety of the undead back to their graves.

Dashiell slammed the wrist of the hand holding his arm with the butt of his gun, but had to break off as another zombie reared up out of the mists. The zombie was moving its mouth toward his left hand, open wide, a rotting stench flowing from its gaping maw.

With a flick of his wrist, Dashiell hurled the last of the salt in his fist into the creature’s face, a good deal landing in that tooth-filled chasm.

The creature kept coming.

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Chapter 28

Pandemonium reigned on the small plateau. Dashiell had been waiting for this, and had pulled out a second vial of holy water. He took a shot and threw the vial as hard as he could in the direction where he had seen the crone. “The power of Christ compels you!” He shouted after it. He heard it break, followed by an agonized scream, whether because the witch was Christian or had just watched the Wizard of Oz too many times, he couldn’t be sure. But he was fairly sure that she was out of the fight, at least for now.

He felt an impact on his side as his coat absorbed a spell that had been hurled at him. It shook him a bit, but had no other effects. His gun was still in one hand, but he was afraid to fire blindly, knowing Regina was somewhere on the other side of the circle.

He heard a strange voice speaking in low tones, off in the direction where he had last seen Hecate. Whether it was her, or one of the two witches still in the game, he couldn’t be sure. His coat probably couldn’t withstand the attack of the demi-goddess, at least, not at full force. But he and Regina had disrupted the spell.

Hecate was still here, at least in some form. And that meant that she could exercise her powers. He had to get rid of her. He knew he didn’t have the power to banish her, but she also wasn’t fully manifested on this plane. That meant she was unlikely to be here by her own force. Instead, she was tied to this place by the spell. So he had to break the tie.

He had been moving the entire time he was thinking, making sure not to be in the place where the last spell had hit him. He had lost track of where everyone was, and an eerie silence descended on the scene. It was broken only by the sound of the still bubbling cauldron.

And that was the key. He turned and charged the center of the circle, bending low and putting his shoulder into the side, just under the lip, lifting and heaving at the same time. The heat of the cast iron burned, but the coat was protected against elements as well as spells, so it kept him from being scalded.

The huge pot raised off of two of its pegged feet and paused in the air as Dashiell’s initial burst of power halted. The cauldron was huge and full to the brim of the ingredients the witches had utilized in their spell. Some of the liquid slopped over the edge. Dashiell braced himself and pushed harder, until he crossed the invisible line where the weight of the brew caused it to capsize, spilling out over the ground, creating a slippery, chunky mess on the granite.

His eyes had adjusted to the starlit darkness as he was doing this and he saw three feminine figures outlined against the horizon, all within a few feet of him. One of them was holding a gun, and he knew that to be Regina.

He raised his gun to take aim at the remaining two figures. As the vile mixture of plant, animal and human remains washed over their feet, one of them wavered and became translucent, before vanishing entirely. So much for Hecate.

He turned his weapon toward the final figure. She was weaving her hands and Dashiell thought he could make out a look of hatred on that middle-aged face. Then, her face turned toward Regina and Dashiell was moving as her hand shot out. He threw himself into the air between the two women and again felt the force of a spell being absorbed.

“Dash!” Regina cried out as he hit the ground, rolling to look for the witch. She was nowhere to be seen.

Regina ran up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Dash! Are you okay?”

He sat up, rubbing his side where it had hit the ground. “I’m okay Regina. My coat took most of the blast. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dash.” She turned her gun towards the two figures laying prone on the ground. “Looks like we caught two of them. Don’t know what happened to the others.”

Dashiell was just turning to look at their captives when he heard a new sound, coming from the East. It was an odd, shuffling sound. It sent a chill through him.

He quickly got to his feet, and checked his weapon, to make sure it was ready to fire. “Regina, we have company,” he said quietly.

“And remember….aim for the head.”

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Chapter 27

Oh shit, Dashiell thought. They had a circle of protection surrounding them. Of course. How could he be so stupid? He should have expected it. He shook himself, recovering from the hard knock as he ran into that shield.

As his vision cleared, he saw for the first time the fourth figure Regina had spotted. At this point, it was a hazy outline, though definitely of feminine shape. As Dashiell watched, it started to solidify.

He heard the witches speaking.

“Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

Then, the witch with her back to him, spoke. “Cool it with a baboon’s blood, Then the charm is firm and good.”

That was the end of the spell. They were through at least one recitation, and based on the solidity of the fourth figure, it was likely the second.

The young girl spoke up. “Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.”

Regina finally caught up to Dashiell, weapon still drawn. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. But we have problems. They have a circle of protection up. I can’t get through.”

“Well can’t you cast a spell, or something?”

“No. The circle is specifically designed to prevent interference of a magical nature. There’s no way to get through.”

“Well this isn’t magic.” She raised her gun, taking aim between two of the witches. Before Dashiell could stop her, she squeezed off a round.

He dove to the ground as the shell ricocheted off the air, skittering around to the side and embedding into the granite where Kennedy’s “Ask not what your country” quote was carved. Chips of rock exploded upward.

“Jesus Christ!” Regina yelled. She had hit the deck as well.

“I tried telling you, Regina. We can’t get through.” He had noticed something though. As he dove to the ground, the youngest witch had flinched. She didn’t have full faith in the spell. That might be his way in.

“Regina,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the chanting. “Walk around behind that young lady, and shoot her in the back of the head.”

Regina turned her eyes to him, looking confused. Turning toward Regina, he mouthed the words “Trust me.”

Dashiell reached into his cloak and pulled out one of the vials of holy water, passing it to her. “Be sure to sprinkle this down the barrel on the chambered round. It’s a special potion of dispelling. It’ll get through the circle.”

It was all bullshit, but he was betting the girl didn’t know that. And the other witches couldn’t tell her to have faith without disputing the spell.

Regina hustled around the circle, coming to a stop behind the young witch. Dashiell watched her eyes go wide again, unable to see what was going on behind her and unwilling to turn. The witches were entering the last round of “Double doubles”. There was a brief pause in the chant and he heard Regina cock her weapon dramatically.

Two things happened in the next instant. First, the young witch threw herself to the ground crying out and second, the flame beneath the bubbling cauldron suddenly snuffed out, plunging the area into darkness.

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Chapter 26

Dashiell swore under his breath. “Then we may be too late. But we have to hurry, just in case.”

He started heading toward the memorial flame, running quickly while trying to keep low and out of sight. Unfortunately, the cemetery wasn’t built for stealth. He had to hope that they were too involved in casting their spell or talking to the demi-goddess to notice him and Regina rushing up the hill.

He turned his head slightly and saw Regina mirroring his movements. She had spread out about ten yards to his right. That was smart. There was no way a spell from the witches could get both of them at the same time. And Hecate would be more likely to raise the dead to deal with them.

As he approached the hill, he heard the witches chanting in unison. He breathed a small sigh of relief. Apparently they weren’t done with the spell. What Regina had spotted must just be the first impressions of Hecate on this plane. Still, the spell wasn’t that long to begin with. Hopefully, they’d go through the ritual of saying it three times. After all, Hecate was a threefold goddess. But he couldn’t count on it.

Dashiell made a decision. He’d charge them. Yes, they’d notice him, but if it disrupted them from chanting, then he’d spoil the spell. And he was wearing his jacket. He pelted towards the plateau where the witches stood, feet pounding lightly on the payment. Regina must have thought he was insane, Dashiell reflected. Well, maybe he was.

As he rounded the last corner, he got his first glimpse of the three witches. They couldn’t have been more different from each other. The first was old, Dashiell guessed her age around 70. She had flowing white hair down to her shoulders and she stood in profile to him.

The second witch was young, maybe all of 20. She had slick black hair and thick eye shadow. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was a goth poseur like so many girls her age. But he could feel the power radiating from the bubbling cauldron between the witches.

The third witch had her back to him, but years working as an investigator told him that, by the way she carried herself, she was of middle years. Besides, it fit the pattern. These three were following all of the old legends, and Hecate was often pictured as having three forms, the maid, the mother and the crone.

The eyes of the youngest witch widened as she saw Dashiell run up upon them, but she didn’t break her chant. Oh well, he’d have to do it for them. He took a step towards the witch with her back to him, fully prepared to yank her out of the circle forcefully.

At least, that was the plan.

When he got within three paces of her, he slammed into an invisible wall.

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Chapter 25

By the time Regina pulled the car into the parking lot at Arlington National Cemetery, the sun had fully set. Dashiell got out of the car and scanned the horizon, looking to see if the new moon had risen yet. While it wasn’t easy to spot the new moon, it was possible. As he feared, it hung just above the horizon. It was entirely possible the night’s dark work had already begun.

He looked over at Regina and nodded. She returned the nod. It was time to go.

They knew where they were headed. Dashiell just hoped he had guessed right.

He looked around as they entered the graveyard, trying to spot the backup Regina would have called in. He didn’t see anybody.

“You told SWAT to aim for the head, right?”

She looked over at him. “Yeah, Dash. Although it was a bit hard to explain why. Training says go for the body, and most folks don’t believe in zombies.”

“Well, maybe a few shots that don’t do anything will change their mind. But we really don’t have any time for them to waste shots on the body. Things could get very tight, very fast.”

“What about your backup, Dash? Can we expect any magical help?”

“Unfortunately, Regina, I’m it. At least here. There should be agents guarding the ends of the bridges. Although I hope the fact that the river thawed should protect us there. The undead don’t like crossing running water. But with a goddess involved….well, I didn’t want to risk them being able to overcome it. So we’re the first line of defense, but we’re on our own.”

Regina nodded. It comforted her to know that the safety of the city was not just in her hands this night.

Dashiell reached into his coat and pulled out his gun. Regina drew her weapon as well.

“I’d like to take them alive, but the safety of the city outweighs that concern,” Dashiell said.

Regina turned her eyes toward the JFK Memorial and held up a hand. She and Dashiell stopped moving.

“It looks like there are people up there,” she said.

“Then I guessed right. At least we have some luck running our way.”

“Not sure how much luck, Dash,” she said, her voice sounding worried. “By my count, there are four of them.”

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Chapter 24

The next morning dawned clear and bright. Dashiell would have preferred rain. Anything to damp down the fire and keep the cauldron from boiling. And, water does nasty things to decomposing flesh. He reflected that, in many ways, water was more dangerous than fire to some zombies. Movies liked to show flame, but decomposing flesh actually wasn’t that flammable.

He spent the day preparing, making phone calls to old contacts. He didn’t expect anyone to join him out at Arlington. He just wanted to activate the phone tree. It was a program the Director had set up before they were shut down. No one currently in the government could publicly lend aid. But there were quiet ways they could prepare the city for a coming disaster.

Finally, he prepared himself, grabbing as many charms as he had in the house. In addition to his usual good luck charms, he hung both a cross and a Star of David around his neck. He didn’t have a crescent in the house, since Muslim spirits weren’t that common in this part of the world. He debated taking a feather, a universal symbol of good luck, but decided against it, since it symbolized the spirit moving from one world to the next. First of all, he didn’t want his spirit traveling anywhere. And secondly, the crossroads were Hecate’s domain. Best not to give her any aid he didn’t have to.

Next, he took out his key chain and headed to a small locked door under the stairs. He unlocked the door, revealing another set of steps heading down to the basement. He walked down the rickety wooden stairs, pausing for a moment at the bottom. His eyes scanned the room and came to rest on the old wooden chest. He walked over to it, looking down on it for a while. He sighed, dropping to one knee, unlocking the padlock that held the latch closed.

He opened the trunk and took out the dark rosewood case there. He opened it, looking down at his service weapon, a black Glock 9 mm. He hadn’t carried it in a while. But today was a special case. He took the underarm holster from the case and put it on. Then he loaded the clip, sliding it into the handle with a satisfying sound. He cocked the weapon, checked the safety, then slid it into its holster. The weight was odd after all these years.

Underneath the rosewood case, neatly folded, was a large black jacket. He took it out, looking it over. It was standard Bureau issue, with a variety of pockets and special additions, designed to hold a variety of tools and charms. The jacket itself was ensorcelled by the best witches and warlocks who worked for the Bureau. It was basically a walking circle of protection.

He looked through the trunk. He didn’t need the silver bullets. Regular would do. He grabbed three vials of holy water, setting them to the side. He considered grabbing the Bible he stored there, but he wasn’t truly going up against demonic forces. At least, not as the witches saw it. Therefore, the Bible might not work. Of course, he reflected, that means the holy water might not work. He’d bring it anyway. He tucked the vials into the inside of the jacket, in one of the pockets there.

Satisfied that he didn’t need anything else in the trunk, he closed and locked it. Then he went back upstairs and locked the door to the basement. He stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a large box of salt that he had picked up the night before.

He heard a car horn and headed for the front door. Regina was here to pick him up. He gazed to the west, noting the sun sinking below the horizon. It was going to be a busy night.

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