Chapter 50 - The Great Witch

The odd conjoined shadow cast over Death. His skeletal fingers gripped tight over the tombstone he was collapsed against. He had existed in this world for so long, serving a crucial function as he watched humans move on in both the best and worst of circumstances. Few reapers shared his longevity in the business, but if this is how it must end, then so be it. His greatest failure would be not properly passing on his knowledge and finding a replacement, and this was not the first time.

The shadow receded, and he heard an irritated, inhuman screech. He looked up to see Morrigan backing away, her scythe held loose. Her teeth clenched in a grimace as she clutched her forehead with her free hand, shaking her head. She was still fighting. Deep down, she’d never wish to give into such a malicious will. The demon’s eyes set on Death. It truly had become beautiful, at least in a traditional sense. Its eyes, though a vibrant blue, held an ugliness within them. But they stared at him with increasing confusion.

Death’s jaw cracked. “It’s a two-way street, demon. You wish to be Morrigan? Your base desires are inherently at odds with her heart.”

Its eyes formed a scowl as Morrigan herself seemed to be fighting off a severe migraine.

The demon’s lips parted, speaking with a low demonic whisper. “I… don’t… want… you…” It then slithered its arm over Morrigan’s body, dropped its chin into the crook of her neck, and whispered in her ear. “Let’s find her… end the loneliness… we can…”

Death started, trying to get up, but his shattered bones would not allow him. “Morrigan! The presence that’s attached to you only desires to consume! Follow its will, and you’ll never know any happiness! You’ll never be with Emma! You will only hurt her!”

His words fell on deaf ears as Morrigan looked up, her white, pupilless eyes widening in understanding.

“Morrigan! No!”

She then shot into the air with unnatural speed, leaping from the clearing, past the angel statue, and skittered through the tombstones, the monstrosity securely riding on her back.

“NOOOO!” Death grabbed the top of the headstone he leaned against and tried to pull himself to his feet, but his damaged ribs scraped together, and he collapsed. He’d have to rely on Hilda, as she was the daughter of a great witch. She had the strength to win, but she did not know how to wield it. As things were, they would both surely die.

Death couldn’t stand, so he tried to crawl, and as his gaze fell towards the ground, he saw shadows swirl unnaturally, as if something was swimming beneath them and closing in on him. His jaw cracked. “I wondered if you were truly done for.”

A voice echoed from the unnatural shadows. “Those bones are merely a vessel. You know that, master.”

“Ah yes, but a reaper’s scythe isn’t meant for flesh or bone,” Death countered.

“Apologies. In our years together, I have been… observing.”

“So, you’ve found a loophole in our contract, have you? You surely are a terrifying beast.” Death chuckled as the words left him.

The shadow coalesced, darkening in a single point, as two red eyes peered up at him. “I’m afraid it is my nature, master. I trust you will not use this against me.”

“It is in the nature of all things to survive. I will not hold it against you and keep it our little secret. Though I am curious what you could have observed exactly to negate the power of a reaper’s scythe.”

“I don’t think we have time to discuss,” Noir countered.

“Well, I’d like to agree, but that would imply there is something I can still do. You are without a body, and mine is broken and will take some time to repair. I’m afraid the young witches are on their own.”

“No, there is still a way. As you say, I don’t have a suitable body at the moment, and yours may be broken, but…”

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” Death asked.

“Yes… my master. Let my flesh patch your damaged bones. You’ll be all but indestructible. You can continue to fight!”

“And you will get a nice gulp of a reaper’s power. Not just any reaper, but one whose power had been cultivated over eons.” Death shook his head. “Noir, though I see you as a friend and trust you above any of your kind—and, many of my own kind, for that matter—well… you know I could never take such a risk.”

Noir’s red eyes squinted knowingly from within the void of shadows he currently occupied. “Yes, you would. Because together, we’d have the strength to easily keep the demon at bay. You’ll have time to get through to Morrigan. This is the one way you may be able to save her.”

Death’s head suddenly tilted back as he cackled, his skeletal jaw falling open. “Noir! You vile creature! Using my soft spot for the girl to your own ends!”

“You said you would not hold my nature against me.”

“Ha! Very well then! A new contract?” Death shot his gaze down to Noir, insanity etched across his skull as blue flames licked over the splintered bone on the damaged half. “Go on then, let me hear your terms! But be quick about it!”

***

“Key’s, key’s, key’s!” Hilda muttered through labored breaths as she ran for her Jeep. Her free hand frantically checked the many pockets of her overalls while carrying Emma’s stiff body over her shoulder.

Finally, she felt the cold jangle in her back pocket. She nearly collided head-first with the Jeep as she arrived, then swung the passenger door open and stuffed Emma in head first. As she did so, she was vaguely aware of a shadow flitting from overhead. Maybe a hawk, or a stray cloud, or—

The thought was abruptly cut off as a massive force crashed into the top of the Jeep, causing it to groan and buckle under the impact. Hilda stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock. Morrigan, now carrying a beautiful version of herself on her back, had landed on the vehicle, smashing the roof and shattering the windows.

“Emma!” Hilda shouted as she got over her shock, checking the passenger seat but seeing her cousin was unharmed.

Morrigan’s white, pupilless eyes stared down at Hilda with a twisted expression as she raised her scythe, the blade catching the orange glow of the setting sun.

Hilda knew she had to act quickly. She couldn’t fight a demon head-on, especially not one fused with a reaper—especially not without her staff. She needed to create a distraction, something to give her and Emma a chance to escape. She reached into the neck of her shirt, and many talismans and amulets connected by chains spilled out. Morrigan raised from her crouched posture, standing tall and towering over the Jeep.

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Hilda frantically sifted through the talismans until her fingers finally grasped the one she needed—a small, unassuming piece with a rune inscribed on it. Without a second thought, she snapped the chain and hurled the talisman at the nightmarish duo that had not only smashed her beloved Jeep but would do god knows what to her little cousin.

As the talisman sailed through the air, it erupted with a flash of all-consuming light. Hilda closed her eyes tight just in time to avoid blinding herself and dove sightlessly for Emma, who was just under the demon’s feet. “Ah'tarest'rei esae’ler!” Hilda shouted, negating the binding spell.

Emma instantly shot up with a gasp. “Hilda! You bitch!”

“Yeah, yeah, just run!” she screamed, yanking Emma out of the Jeep. Morrigan’s piggy-back-demon was screaming in fury as they ran away. Hilda glanced back now that her luminesce-bomb had dissipated, but the demon-Morrigan duo clearly hadn’t recovered. All three arms batted at their respective faces.

“Hilda!”

“Just run!” She yelled, pulling Emma towards the exit of the graveyard.

“But we can’t leave!”

“The hell we can’t!”

“We’ll just be putting more people in danger!” Emma dug her feet into the ground and yanked her arm free.

“Damn it, Emma! I can’t run and carry you! That thing’s too fast!”

“If you cast that binding spell on me again, I swear I’ll curse you!” Emma shot back.

Hilda scoffed. “I don’t have time to explain to you everything that’s wrong with that.”

“We have to try to stop it here and now! If you want to help me, start by figuring out how to summon your staff!”

“Emma, it’s useless! Now come on!”

“Aunt Claire could do it!” Emma spat at her, feeling a little guilty at the look it put on Hilda’s face, but she was more concerned about Morrigan right now. So, she turned and ran back to the Jeep.

The demon’s eyes squinted as Emma approached, locking its gaze on her. Morrigan likewise finished rubbing her eyes and froze as her vision recovered and she looked down on her former classmate.

“Morrigan. I can’t begin to understand what you’ve been going through,” Emma said, taking small, careful steps forward.

Morrigan growled as she jumped down and swung the scythe, though Emma had to only take a short step back to avoid it.

“Hey! Don’t make me punch you!” Emma yelled at her. “That is so unfair! Swinging that scythe at me!” Morrigan began to raise the scythe again, but faltered. She doubled back, shaking her head. The demon itself, wearing Morrigan’s face, seemed equally perplexed. “Yeah, seriously! Put that thing down!” Emma continued. “Like, what the hell?” She didn’t think it would work, but she felt a wave of relief wash over her as the scythe slipped from Morrigan’s hand, dissipating into blue flame as it hit the ground.

Emma let out a breath. “Okay… that’s a step in the right direction. Morrigan, look, I don’t know why you ran away from me. Is it because you thought you couldn’t trust me? Or is it something else?” She took a step forward as Morrigan tried to back away, but the demon’s back thudded against the Jeep. “I always knew you were hiding something. As much as you wanted to be seen, so much of it was a cover. I guess… because you didn’t like who you were, and you figured nobody would like the real Morrigan either. So, you created a fake version of yourself to show to everyone.”

Morrigan’s hands came up to her head, fingers twining through her hair and balling into fists as a look of anguish spread across her face. For just a moment, her white pupiless eyes flickered red before she shut them tight.

“I pretended not to notice. Because I figured that’s what you wanted, and I’m sorry. Thing is, I could see that no matter what, you always looked so lonely. Even if we were hanging out with everyone, even if you were cracking jokes and laughing. You always looked so lost. You’d always walk home alone, and you never really opened up with anything that felt real. I wish I had forced it out of you, and I’m sorry for not understanding what you really needed.”

Even the demon now had tears in its eyes. Death had said a changeling eventually believes itself to be its host. Whatever pieces of Morrigan it had mimicked were apparently resonating with Emma’s words. Even though it was some freaky oversized parasite crawling halfway out of Morrigan’s back, Emma couldn’t help but pity it. It looked so much like that fake Morrigan who was always present at school, standing in front of the real Morrigan who was so sad and lonely.

Cautiously, she reached her hand up and touched Morrigan’s face. “You don’t have to hide. I’m sorry for not doing more to make that easier for you.”

Morrigan’s eyes fluttered open, the red tinges solidifying as her own true gaze began to re-emerge. The demon, still clinging to her, seemed to waver as well, and then simultaneously, tears rolled down the cheeks of both versions of her face.

Morrigan’s lips parted, and she spoke in a cracked, shaken voice. “It’s… not like… it’s your job… or anything.”

Emma smiled. “But I want it to be.”

Morrigan’s arms suddenly wrapped around Emma, pulling her into a tight embrace. Emma hugged her back, her hands locking wrist over wrist at the base of Morrigan’s spine where the demon protruded from, and together they fell to their knees.

***

Hilda watched from a short distance, talismans dangling through her fingers, though she didn’t know which she should yank off if push came to shove. Yet, somehow, the situation seemed to have de-escalated. Morrigan, reaper Morrigan, had her chin over Emma’s shoulder, and she was crying. She would not seem in the least bit a threat alone, and Hilda’s heart ached for her. Not knowing her full story but seeing the pain she must be in.

Then, there was the demon… Not just any demon, but a changeling—the same type of creature who took her parents from her. She barely remembered that day, only that her mother shook her out of bed and made her get into the car without getting dressed. It was raining, but as her mom fastened her seatbelt, she looked through the windshield at her dad standing in the doorway of the house. She only saw him as an unnaturally still silhouette. Even then, so young and from such a distance, she could tell something was wrong with him. She even asked, ‘Is daddy okay?’

Her mom, the Great Witch Claire, as Hilda always heard her referred to as, had simply said, ‘Don’t worry, baby. I’m going back for daddy later.’ Those were the last words she could remember of her mother.

The next day, her grandma, who was also a witch, gave her the news that they were both dead and eventually told her the whole truth of what happened that night.

Now, here was another one—a changeling—wearing the face of a beautiful young girl. It was weeping, so human-like the sight was disturbing, especially since the arm that was not currently embedded into its host was draped soothingly over her little cousin’s back, Morrigan sandwiched between them.

“What do I do? What do I do!?”

One of her talismans warded off disease, another was a catalyst for her glamor… She could give someone a coughing fit, or another was used for tracking (which saw most of its use on now ex-boyfriends.) One could heal minor cuts, another for basic fireworks, one for finding what’s lost (usually tools at the mechanic shop), and reminder charms (cell phone alarms were just as effective, but magic was more fun). All of these, but a sorry lack of any kind of changeling repelent. The herbs in her pocketbook might have been of some help, but it would take too much time to mix them and perform the spells properly.

“Emma,” Hilda spoke softly as she approached with slow, even steps.

“Emma, you need to get away.”

“No, it’s alright, Hilda!” Emma bawled. “See? It’s alright!”

“Emma…” Hilda repeated in almost a whisper. “It’s really not. It’s really, really not.”

The changeling lifted its head, still sobbing with mouth wide open, tears and snot dripping from its face. It was displaying heartwrenching emotional turmoil… but it was nothing more than an unfeeling reflection.

Then, Emma screamed.

Hilda moved without thinking, her eyes taking in but barely processing how the changeling’s arm that moments ago held her little cousin in a tearful embrace now burrowed itself deep into her back.

She dropped the talismans; they were all useless. Emma would be disappointed to learn just how mundane they actually were. All Hilda had were the protective runes tattooed on her arms, which would do little now that the demon was already elbow-deep in her cousin.

As Hilda threw her arm back, she felt something touch her fingertips. Almost as if on instinct, she grabbed hold and swung it forward. Its weight was familiar. It was a smooth pole polished up to the tree knot at its head, which cradled a blue gem. “This is…”

She didn’t have time to process what it meant, but somehow, she had just summoned her mother’s staff—the staff of the Great Witch Claire.

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Chapter 51 - Amalgamation