The Ties Which Bind

The Ties Which Bind.

         The young man smiled as he leafed through the comments and feedback from his peers. "Great story! Masterful use of Old English." "Are you immortal? Lol joking but you present such a display of knowledge it almost feels like you lived through that time period yourself." "Awesome story, but I would have liked to known more about Netley. The only thing creepier than a serial killer is the person he calls friend." The man smiled at that last one, perhaps in the sequel he would weave the tale of what had happened after his friend Montague 'disappeared.' True this was supposed to be a class for creative fiction and the man felt as though he were cheating some nights, but the old cliches ring true for a reason - truth is stranger than fiction...and the man once known as John Netley, now assuming a new name and identity decided to muse over that concept at a later time.
         It was starting to get dark out, and he still had a rather long journey home. The pains were already beginning to flare up as The man sat on the bus and pretended to read. They occurred more and more frequently these days, and with more intensity than ever before. Had it really only been 125 years since he last had to perform the ritual? There was a time when he could go centuries without being forced to appease Mephasm's hunger. The spirit was growing ever more impatient to collect its prize, and The man doubled over as a new wave of pain undulated through his form. People were starting to take notice, this would not do! Not here, for Christ's sake not on a bus full of slack jawed rubes! The man pulled the cord and lurched forward off the bus into a nearby coffee shop. He mumbled something supposed to represent an order and sprinted towards the bathroom. Sitting on the cold porcelain toilet, sweat dripping from his brow in icy bullets, he rolled up his sleeve and examined the brand that had marked his flesh for the past 600 years. The egg-shaped scar burned and throbbed, the veins pulsing in metronome time to the pain. The man leaned over and vomited, strands of sickly pale gibbets hanging from his mouth, beads of bile trapped within like dew in a spiderweb. This body was wearing down, like it or not, Mephasm's Ritual must be performed tonight. The man cleaned up as best he could and exited, a couple of young women perusing a copy of Glamour, eyeing him the way one might a strange dog. Despite the pain and discomfort, the man could not help but wryly smile to himself at the notion. These girls would give their eyeteeth to possess true Glamour, and three months later, would trade their souls to take it back.

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         Th sun was just beginning to set by the time the man turned his verdigris-caked house key into the tumbler and let himself in. Shadowfax, his giant silver Maine Coon came thundering down the hall, twining in between his legs and letting loose with that wood chipper purr that never failed to bring a smile to the man's face. In that moment, his true beauty shone forth, all but forgotten through the centuries, and the pain and lethargy and dread vanished as quickly as if a morphine drip and been inserted to his veins.
         "Hey there buddy, I have something special for you today mister." He grinned and scratched the mammoth barn cat's ears. He grunted as he stood up, the joints popping as he opened the fridge and took out a small container of shrimp. "Yeah, you can smell that from here can't ya bud? Well I had a little extra on my paycheck and you're the only thing in my life worth splurging on so eat up my friend, one of us should have a decent meal anyway." He smiled and took out a box of Kraft macaroni as Shadowfax munched contentedly. Half an hour later and the both of them were seated on the ancient sofa, one watching some insipid sitcom and the other basking in the attention and love. The man wished all nights could be as peaceful as this one, but hindsight is 20/20 and there was work to be finished. He gave Shadowfax one last affectionate hug and trudged to the bathroom. He stripped off the shirt and jeans and stood naked before the mirror. He sighed, he had specifically chosen this body due to its absolute anonymity, not too attractive, but not the definition of ugly either. He had lived in peace and quiet because no one ever gave him a second glance unless he drew attention deliberately, but a more comely form was needed for the next step. He shut his eyes and concentrated on the brand, drawing from its power. It flared a sinister crimson as he completed the imago in his mind's eye. A scream tore from his throat as the pain intensified tenfold. His paunch melted away and disappeared completely, a svelte smooth stomach in its place. He shrieked as his bones and muscles stretched and elongated, increasing his height a good 13 inches. The itching of a thousand fire ants stinging at once occurred as his hair thickened and changed from its mousy brown to a lustrous black. There was a sickening pop as his eyeballs fell from their sockets and cell matter wove a new network of matter in their place. Through the din of pain and misery, he could hear Shadowfax beating at the locked door, mewing pitifully for his master. He hated putting his beloved pet through the stress, but it couldn't be helped.
         Standing on wobbly knees, he looked into the mirror, pleased with the results. He had gone from a frumpy, short Bill Gates look alike to a raven-haired rock star. Smiling with a row of perfectly capped teeth, he stepped naked into the den and reached down to pet Shadowfax, who scampered to the safety of the laundry room. Tears welling in the man's eyes, and hoping the cat would recognize his scent with more time, he went to the bedroom and selected a silk shirt and leather pants (size taken into consideration...he had purchased them on such a contingency plan months prior) and slipped into them. He was not a vain man, and only took a passing appreciation of his newly gained looks before setting out into Portland's red light district. It was time.

         

         It didn't take long for the man to find the exact sort he wanted. The gigolo was the perfect combination of raw beauty and street sleaze that one sees a million times over hustling prospective clients. The man reached out with his mind and pushed, compelling the male hooker to saunter over. It was a risky gambit and he didn't know if he could muster the energy to maintain control again, but the need to complete the process was becoming dire. He beamed a smile he hoped looked coy and sexy at the gigolo and tossed his head in the direction of his waiting Taurus. "What's the matter sweetness? Can't you talk?" the hooker purred. There was one inconsistency the man had overlooked when he had made the pact with Mephasm, his voice would always remain the same, no matter what form or body. He could take no risks and signed at the gigolo, smiling apologetically as he signaled that he was indeed, deaf and mute. "Well hell sweet thing, as long as you've got the green, I don't give a fuck.....so to say." he giggled at his pun. "Lets step into your chariot then shall we?" The man gave an embarrassed  grin and signed something to the prostitute. "Sure my friend, I get it, you're the giving type huh? Well I've had uglier faces then yours wanting to give me a suck, if that's what gets you off then you just be my guest."

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         The Taurus was filled with the musky scent of sex and sweat twenty minutes later. The gigolo leaned back and sighed with pleasure. "Jesus H Christ man, where did you learn to do things like that? Ever consider going into the business yourself? With a mouth like yours, you'll be able to retire before you hit thirty!" The man, having gotten what he needed gestured towards the car's door with one hand, tossing the roll of bills at his suitor with the other. Wearing a look of dejection, the gigolo stepped out, "sure guy....business as usual, I understand." Giving one final wistful look as he walked into the night.


         The man made sure his companion was long gone before pulling out a small, curious looking vial from his coat pocket and spitting the semen into the container. Mixed with his own saliva, it was the perfect alchemical blend needed. The hardest part was over, and this fucking night would soon be nothing more than another night's work. Business as usual indeed.
                                                 
                                                           **********

         "Shadowfax! Come on out buddy! I brought you some catnip!" The man shook the Walgreen's bag with the catnip he had picked up on the way home. The Maine Coon came charging down the hall, mewing excitedly, but cut it short upon seeing the stranger in his master's house and growled low and deep. The man's heart broke as his one and only friend glared at him with those luminous green eyes. "Shadowfax, its Chris. You know my voice bud, you have to know its still me? Come on, I bought this just for you. We always get baked together buddy." He held out a handful of the herb and was rewarded with a swipe to his fingers, one final hiss and the big cat turned his back on him. Wishing and praying to any benevolent deities in vicinity, the man hoped his friend would come around in the future - perhaps after the business with Mephasm was completed. It was good that Shadowfax had retreated to the bedroom anyway, better for the cat not to be witness anyway.
         He took the vial of semen out and set it next to the bookcase, filled with moldering old tomes penned by authors named Agrippa, Paracelsus, Dee and Levi. He shoved the sofa into the hallway and gathered the rugs off the hard wooden floor. Grabbing a piece of chalk off the bookshelf, he stooped down and drew a Seal of Solomon on the floor. Reaching over again to the shelf, keeping very careful not to accidentally erase any of the markings, he retrieved a small silver bell and hammer. Taking position at the northern point of the Seal, he struck the bell three times, its notes lingering in the stillness like dust motes and began to speak.
         "Dark Father, hear my pleas. I am one who comes in supplication. I am one who asks a boon be granted this Autumn's eve. I am one who brings offerings of life fluid in equivalent exchange. I beseech you honor our long made pact. By all the names you have been known: Mephasm, Asmodeus, Moloch, Coyote, Belial. I invoke thee. I invoke thee. Make thy presence known."
         There was a flash of light, gone within the instant it registered on the senses. The air filled with the scent of lilacs intermingled with rot and decay. There was a hiss like escaping steam, and a voice, soft and unpleasant spoke from within the Seal.
"What do you require?"
         The man spoke three sentences, going through his demands by rote.
"What do you bring me?"
         "Seminal fluid, intermingled with my own saliva. The binding ties should be sufficient in accordance to the rites."
"Sex is a powerful binding agent in these matters." the demon agreed. Its voice grew low and hungry. "Give it to me."
         The man unstopped the vial and dripped the mixture into the center of the Seal. There was another flash of light and the milky drops of liquid were gone.
"Thirty more years, and then you bring me another...are we in agreement my young Faust?" the demon sneered. The man nodded, "as long as you honor your end of the agreement spirit. A life for a life....however shorter they may grow these days."
"Immortality requires work and sacrifice my Faust. Know that you may always elect not to honor your end of the bargain and die clean...but you are well aware of what waits for you beyond the veil." The room grew still and quiet once more, the putrid scents vanished and all was as it once was. The man set about scrubbing the symbol away, wondering if thirty more years was enough time for salvation.


         Kevin sauntered around Pioneer Courthouse Square. He just couldn't get that trick out of his mind. He knew it was a cliche to fall in love with a client, and an even bigger cliche to believe in love at first sight....but there was just something so otherworldly about him that fascinated the gigolo. He thought he might stay in the area a few nights more, cops be damned. He had to see his mysterious man once again.
         A sudden,searing pain swept like lava through his body and he fell to the pavement, trying to scream but not being able to manage anything beyond a choked whimper. His head felt as if were being crushed in a vise and his heart beat frantically. Images swept through his mind, garbled and terrifying men capering about. Here was a deformed dwarf helping a regal looking lady torture young girls and collecting their blood to be filled in a great bath. There was a well dressed man driving an English coach, laughing with a distinguished looking gentleman as he pointed out a young woman named Mary Kelly. And there was Kevin's raven haired beauty, the last face he witness before the aneurysm snuffed his life out, looking down in bemusement, the strange egg shaped scar on his wrist throbbing red....brighter and faster until the gigolo drew his last breath, the mark quieting down itself, nothing more than an odd looking scar.