Fear

“I can’t think when I’m freaking out. I don’t know anybody who can.”
“I work really well under pressure.” Tyson kept his eyes on the bay area traffic ahead of them.
The two, only a year difference in age, had known each other since intermediate school. Tyson was muscular, a “jock” in all sense of the high school term. Usually found in the school hallways bragging about his hundred meter touch down or on the field practicing. Juxtapose Beau, his closest friend, the two were an odd couple. Beau, thin, almost frail, ventured with the introverted kids, he could be found with the groups in the library playing Magic the Gathering on their lunch breaks. Outside of school, the two boys were usually together finding some kind of compromise between books and sports.
“Being under pressure is one thing, I can think under pressure. I’m talking about like can’t move, peeing your pants, scream queen kind of scared.” Beau said.
“I can’t think of anything that would scare me that bad.”
A musical mash up of Ozzy Osborne’s Crazy Train and techno began playing from Tyson’s dash USB port connected to his iPhone.
Tyson pulled into his parents suburban home driveway. The clock on the dash read 7:56. “Okay.” Tyson pulled his iPhone from the port, ending the mashup. “We’ve got approximately thirty seven hours before my parents get home from Washington. It’s Friday. You didn’t want to attend Jessica’s spring party. What do you have for me?”
“Dude, dude, dude, dude. It’s all in here.” Beau lifted his heavy backpack from the floor board.
“Is it more exciting than Amanda Guiles measurements?”
“I guarantee it.”
“Okay.” Tyson exited the car and waited for Beau before pushing the lock button.
Once the two entered the newly remodeled Birch street home Beau unzipped his pack and began emptying it onto the broad dining room table. After a quick thought he stopped himself and pulled out only a Ouija board and two books.
“A Ouija board, Beau? A Ouija board?” Tyson had just retrieved a cereal box from the dark cherry cabinets of the kitchen. “You don’t really believe that crap do you?”
“Okay, Okay. I know, you think it’s dumb but trust me.” Beau held out the next object up for discussion.
“The Devil’s Playground.” Tyson finished pouring himself cereal. “Cute. What else you got?”
“This.” He then procured what was a tired, worn book jacket partially concealing a thick chunk of aged pages.
“What’s that?” Tyson’s interest was suddenly peaked. He held out a free hand to take the book.
“Only the most powerful warlock’s spell book ever written.” Beau handed it over. “You’ve heard of the Illuminati, the Order of the Golden Dawn. The Skulls.” Shaking his head he said, “This goes back way farther.”
“I’m listening.” Tyson’s eyes moved from end to end, gleaning the open pages of the book.
“They were called the Petrios. An organization that dates back all the way to ancient Egypt. They supposedly took the reigns of ruling earth after extra terrestrial life started the colonization of humans.”
“Okay yeah,” Tyson agreed casually, “so that’s backed up by that one theory.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Beau broke in rapidly. “That area 51 site we found online.”
“But when was this printed?”
Pausing, Beau spoke up. “That’s just it, Tyson. I can’t find anything on this book.”
“There’s no record of it?”
Beau shook his head. “Just a few footnotes about the organization, and even that was vague.”
“Whew.” Tyson arched his back slightly. “I just got chills.”
Grabbing his stack, Beau picked up the straps of the pack and walked past a deep purple couch separating the dining room and  living room. With the book in hand, Tyson followed, watching as Beau lifted out two wide candles, one black and one white.
“You want to put on The Exorcist or something or Silent Hill?”
Beau shook his head, “I don’t want to mess anything up.”
Tyson laughed and sat the book neatly between the two candles Beau had placed in the center of the glass coffee table. “You don’t really think anything’s going to happen?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know if it will. But I don’t want it to not work because we wanted to set the mood.”
“I got you.” Tyson took a kneeling position next to Beau. “What kind of stuff did you find in there? Like magic or whatever?”
“Insane stuff, like being able to possess someone else’s body.” Beau picked up the Devil’s Playground book and sat it gently on the ground next to a grouping of supplies he’d prepared himself with. The assembly included a Ziploc bag filled with clumpy red brick dust, a box of matches, a container of salt, charcoal and silver jewelry complete with a crucifix.
“There’s a few bodies I’d like to possess-” Tyson smiled mischievously raising his eyebrows.
“No, dude, I mean like leaving yours or something like that, like actually switching bodies.”
“Like you jump bodies?”
“Yeah. And you know how in like horror flicks and novels Vampires and witches take slaves?”
Tyson nodded.
“It’s all in here, bro.” He patted the cover of the Petrios book.
Tyson asked, “Where’d you get that at?”
“I found it at that book shop.”
“The old one by the pier?”
“Yeah, the owner thought it was a Quran or something and gave me a deal. I knew it wasn’t, I didn’t know what it was, but when I started searching for keywords I found the stuff on the Petrios.”
“What do you want to do first?”
“Uh…” Beau hesitated.
“Did you take your Adderall?” Tyson asked. “You know you can’t function  without it.”
“Nah. I haven’t picked up my prescription. But.” Beau reached into the front pocket of his backpack and pulled out a small pack caffeine pills. “ADD survival 101.” He laughed, rising to his feet and heading to the kitchen.
“Let’s try the Ouija board first, huh?” Tyson asked while flipping the thin pages of the Petrios book.
“Yeah, why not?” Beau returned with a tall glass of water.
Placing the index finger and middle finger of both his hands onto the paddle Beau gestured to Tyson. “Like this.”
“This?” Tyson placed two fingers from each hand onto the wide wooden paddle adjacent Beau.
Both boys waited patiently.
“Isn’t it supposed to move or something?” Tyson asked.
“Bro, you know it is. Just give it a minute.”
Beau let an entire five minutes pass between them in silence, stiffly holding their fingers in place. “Okay.” He lifted his fingers and picked up the box of matches. “Let’s try the black candle.”
“You really think this is gonna work?”
“Dude, I’ve read so much about, like; online there’s first hand accounts of how Ouija boards get started up and these people actually  talk to the dead, and crazy stuff happens. Like fires, and cupboards opening by themselves.” Sitting the three inch, lit candle in the center of  the cloth, Beau placed his fingers back on the paddle. Suddenly his hand slapped his forehead. “We didn’t  ask it anything!”
Tyson laughed. “What a couple a morons.” Replacing his fingers he smiled up at Beau.
“The ghosts are probably talking crap like, ‘Amateurs’.”
“They’re  gonna  start knocking over lamps, be like, ‘You brought us here for nothin!’.”
Tyson added, “What’s  wrong with you mortals?”
Tyson raised his hand and took a patient breath. “Okay, Beau, let’s do this.”
“What do you want to ask them?”
“Just ask if somebody’s here.”
“Okay.” Beau put his fingers on the paddle once more. Staring intensely at the paddle, he said, “Are you with us?”
Tyson tried stifling a laugh.
“What?” Beau looked up.
“Nothin’. It’s nothing.” The paddle shifted slightly.
Beau jumped, “Dude! Did you do that?!”
Tyson’s fingers jumped off the paddle as he rolled to his side laughing on the carpeted floor.
“Come on! Be serious.” Beau ordered adjusting his knees.
“Yeah.” Tyson picked himself up and took his place on the Ouija paddle. “Let me try.”
“Okay. It’s probably not working because you don’t  believe.”
Tyson met Beau’s eyes with a serious stare. “I believe. I just gotta get into the mood. This isn’t usually my kind of thing.”
“Right.” Beau nodded, “It doesn’t  have a basket or goal post on it.”
“Yeah. It’s  not exactly a sport. So, I’m like, out of my zone.”
“Okay, you ask then.”
Tyson breathed in again. “Is anyone here?”
Both boys stared at the paddle quietly. For another three minutes, they waited, nothing happened.
“Maybe it needs to be turned on or something. Like you need the blood of a virgin.” Tyson examined the sides of the board, then his eyes moved to Beau implicating. “Dude!”
“Man! Shutup.”
Tyson laughed. “I’m just playing.”
Beau removed his fingers, with a frustrated grunt, he said, “Let’s try something in the book.”
“Yeah!” Tyson put the Ouija board on the floor and pulled the book over. Leafing through the pages, Beau moved in closer to examine next to him. “What about that one?” Tyson’s attention had had been drawn to a juvenile ink sketch of a graveyard.
“I think that says raise the dead.” Beau picked the book up and turned the page. “We need goat’s blood, a graveyard… An infant? No, man.” Putting the book back in front of Tyson, “Look at the ingredients for the spell, not just the pictures.”
“Oh.” Tyson thumbed farther into the yellowed pages. “This one.”
Beau picked up the book again. Looking at the page closely, he read, “The Ninth Gate?” Mumbling the spell in a hushed whisper, Beau turned the page finding the spells requirements. “Draw a pentagram of… Salt at the North… Mhmm…” Nodding with a smile, Beau sat the book down on the table. “Yeah.” Rising to his knees, he grabbed the plastic sack of charcoal. “That’s  doable.” He stopped, turning solemnly to Tyson. “But you gotta be all in, Ty. It won’t work if you’re just messing around.”
“I’m in, I swear.” Placing a boy scout salute over his left breast. “I’m in.”
“Okay.” Beau got to his feet and picked up the book. “Can we move the kitchen table? We need the tile floor for the circle.”
Tyson jumped up and moved quickly past the couch to the kitchen. Placing his hands on the heavy wood table, he waited for Beau to take the other side. Both boys lifted it slowly, leaving it against the dark granite lip of the sink counter.
Tyson pulled himself up onto the counter top adjacent the sink, next to the fridge and watched as Beau knelt down to mark the points of the circle with chalk. Connecting each point, Beau created an almost perfect circle. Referring to the book, a compass was retrieved from his backpack. Meticulously,  Beau first marked each Cardinal direction point, then headed the North point of the circle with a symbol resembling an awkward lowercase g. He opened the large container of salt and outlined the symbol. Finally, Beau finished the circle  with a five pointed star. Beginning at the South point of the circle.
“Is that it?” Ty slid down from the counter top.
“No,” with serious concentration, Beau asked. “Does your mom have potting soil or anything?” Moving to the cabinet to the right of the fridge, he pulled out a glass and filled it with water.
“Uh… no.” Tyson said thoughtfully.
“Dude! You’ve got hanging plants. You know, those Ivy plants on your back patio, porch, whatever.”
“Yeah!” Tyson disappeared through the hallway.
Beau leaned over the table, reaching for the faucet. Once the glass was full he placed it at a the North East point of the star. When Tyson returned, Beau pointed to the opposite point. The large pot was overflowing with leafy green arms. Tyson pulled back the strands of ivy, careful to not disrupt the circle.
“Okay.” Beau hesitated.  “We need something for air.” Moving back to the coffee table, he picked up the black candle and walked it slowly to the circle.
“Will a fan work?” Tyson stood stiffly by the potted plant.
The digital clock on the microwave read 8:28 pm. Through the kitchen window, above the sink, the span of Tyson’s fenced backyard was quietly lit by a small bulb.
“Should I turn off all the lights?”
“Uh.” Beau fidgeted. “One question  at a time. Uh. Yes, get the fan. And you turn off the other lights, I’ll get the living room.”
Within minutes everything but the shallow length of the South West end of the circle was black. The flickering light of the candle increased and decreased rapidly as the flame stretched and shortened.
Beau took a position at the North point, listening for Tyson’s bare feet to return from the hallway and stop at the South point of the Pentagram before he flipped on his mini flashlight. “Okay.” turning the bright light to his face. The glow of the LED light accentuated his thin, freckled features. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” Tyson, sounding excited, said, “I’ve been ready, man. Hold on.” He put the fan on the remaining point and took his place.
Beau grabbed the book from the table, turning the light to its pages for the script. “Tiranimus, Archaium, delectablo. Forth untum. Dice untum. Drectacculy absose forrunct.”
As Beau spoke the final words of the spell he pushed the button of the LED flashlight off. Immediately the candle blew out, leaving the boys blinded by the dark. Beau waited a few minutes, his breathing had increased. Tyson said nothing. Finally Beau stepped softly across the tile flooring to the light switch by the hallway.
When he flipped on the light he found himself alone.
***
Once the candle had blown out Tyson waited a few seconds before shuffling his way to the fridge. “I’m really thirsty.”
Opening the fridge, Tyson looked through a drawer filled with Coke cans for a Sprite. As he touched the bottom he pulled back quickly. “Whoo, that’s cold.” Picking up the Sprite, he left the fridge open, to light the room. “Nothing happened.” He said as he turned to look at Beau.
Beau was missing. Their circle remained. The table was still in it’s same position. Beyond the kitchen the living room was unchanged. “Okay. Very funny, Beau.” Tyson left the fridge as it was, walking to the light switch. “Where are you hiding?” When he flipped the switch the dining room lit after half a second, then continued an erratic flicker. Off, on, off, on, like a fluctuating dance light. “That’s weird.”
Tyson walked around the living room slowly, “Beau. Where are you? I’m not playing hide and seek.” He opened the front door.
Heated, heavy wind blasted from within the house pushing him almost completely off the threshold. Tyson frantically grabbed the door jamb and handle, pinching his waist as he gaped out onto what was a severe drop right below his home. Dry heat wafted from the black cavern below. Ahead of him were individual islands of sand, raised up from deep, empty, canyon trails. Tyson screamed.
***
“Okay, Tyson, ha ha.” Beau paced the living room carefully. Then he walked down the empty hallway to Tyson’s room. Tyson’s room was dark, quiet, and absent Tyson. “Dude, where are you?” Beau asked quietly.
Turning back to the living room, Beau flipped on the hallway light and headed to the front door. It opened easily revealing the neatly manicured yard and driveway where Tyson’s hybrid sat. Beau flipped on the porch light.
“What the heck?” Beau whispered.
***
“OH MY GOD!” Tyson shoved the front door closed once he had forced his torso back in against the vapor lock. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Tyson pressed his back against the door and closed his eyes. “It’s not real.” He laughed. “It’s not real. Beau!” Pulling his body from the door, Tyson moved toward the shadowed hallway. “Beau! Where are you? I’m trippin’ man.”
A door opened. It sounded like the bathroom door at the foot of the stairs. The shuffling of clothing and a raspy voice echoed from the end of the hallway. Tyson watched as a dark mass six times the size of Beau rounded the corner in a hurry.
She was wide, covered in gray and brown tattered scarves and cloths piled up on her bulbous curves. A gray cluster of matted knots mounted oily, sagging wrinkles and a grayed bristled brow. “Ninny frelanderin’s!” Heading in a B-line straight at Tyson, the woman grunted and wheezed. “Not in my house, oh no you don’t!”
Tyson dodged the woman and jumped onto the couch.
She followed him, taking a large heavy step into the thick purple padding. The couch springs rejected the move by collapsing, swallowing the old woman’s legs. “Braggart!”
Tyson jumped from the cushion keeping his face to her. “Look, this is my house.” He said in an unfamiliar squeak.
“Lolligrapper!” Her foot was soon released, her pace doubled as she kicked up her legs barreling toward Tyson.
Slowly, legs seized by panic, Tyson creeped back only a few inches before the hag was choking him. Shoving him closer and closer to the door, it swung open, and she pushed. Tyson, failing to grab the door jamb with a frantic flail of his arms, plummeted backwards into the black depths below.
***
“Okay.” Beau raised his hands thoughtlessly. Returning to the circle he looked at the book, still in his hands. Opening it, then closing it, then opening it again, he sat it down on the table. “Okay.”
Pacing around the circle, laughing quietly, “Okay.” He stopped and picked up the Petrios book again. “So, positive side is it worked. Negative side is, I don’t know where I sent Tyson.” He paused. “I need coffee.”
Placing the book on the table once more, Beau went to the cherry colored cabinet on the left side of the mounted microwave. The coffee pot sat, plugged in, directly below the cabinet stocked with coffee and tea supplies. After setting up a dark roast in the machine, Beau leaned his upper body against the counter, waiting. Thinking. Frantically.
A sudden vibration came from the coffee table below the couch. Tyson’s phone lit up with a text notification. Beau hustled to the phone.
The text read, “Hey, Ty, we’re taking an early flight in from Washington. We’ll be home around two a.m.” From Tyson’s Mom.
“Oh crap!” Beau put the phone down. His pace quickened, moving from one end of the couch to the other. “How do I get him back? I don’t even know where he is! Oh crap!” Beau mounted the couch and jumped over the back to the finished pot of coffee.
He leaned over the counter with his hands shielding his eyes. “Okay, Beau. Think, Beau. Think.” With a deep, meditative breath, Beau poured himself some coffee, adding cream and sugar from the cabinet. “Calm down. Everything’s fine.” He said, slowly soothing himself. He took a drink.
***
“AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Tyson struggled and seized, fighting his way out of a knotted bunch of blankets. With heaving, short breaths he found the top of his thick comforter and pulled it from it’s hug around his head.
He sat up. Groping his chest and arms, checking to see if he was still in tact, Tyson then relaxed. He fell back against his pillow. “It was a dream.” He started laughing.
Tyson was in his room surrounded by his trophies, posters and book shelf. Blinding morning light beamed in from the window above his bed.
“Oh thank you, God.” Picking himself up again, Tyson tossed the comforter to the floor and noticed he was still fully dressed. Rising to his feet, he went to the bedroom door.
“Oh no! No! No!”
Ahead of his room, where the stairway had been, hung a thick, gray fog above dry, cracked desert. Tyson turned back to the familiarity of his room and watched it fill quickly with the same heavy fog, as the walls, posters, dresser and all of the familiarity of home disappeared. Tyson remained, standing in shock, for a few minutes.
A loud percussion vibrated the dense floor beneath his feet. Once. A few seconds later it hit again. There was no definition to the span of the air above his head. Tyson’s vision was limited to only the two hazy feet encompassing him. He couldn’t see what was coming but it sounded like feet. Boom. Boom. Boom.
Decidedly, Tyson moved. “Just gotta find a way out. Right?” His voice squeaked again.
A forced, foul smelling heat brushed the top of his head, Tyson stopped. The thick clusters of fog swirled, filling with a putrid mixed scent. A combination of sulfur, oxidized tin and dog hair wafted down from directly above his head.
Tyson looked up, face to nose with a giant. Pastel cream colored skin, stained landscapes of wrinkles and dimples by a mossy green that climbed up across its pores and into the hair line. The monster’s jaw line alone was the height of Tyson. The mammoth outline of the body barely visible through the tumultuous clouds of fog.
“Eh he.” An unfamiliar noise squeezed free from Tyson as he gazed up into the cluster filled nostrils of the behemoth.
“WAAAAAAAAAR!” Like a flash the mouth was open drilling the boy with an excruciating loud vibration accompanied by hot springs of saliva.
Tyson dropped. “Aaaaaaaaaaaah!”
Filthy, muddled wafts of vile breath rained down and surrounded him. Tyson picked himself up onto his hands and knees, scurrying out from under the giant. Blinded, with no sense of direction, Tyson bolted until the sound and smell of the beast was at least a quarter of a mile away.
In the last ten feet before he slowed, Tyson’s knee hit something in his path. It clambered slightly, jostled to the side. He went back to see what it was. No easy task, the fog had thickened, the boy was only able to feel around on the dry dirt inches at a time before touching the cold, wood board.
“The Ouija Board!” Laughing hysterically, hugging the board to his chest, Tyson felt a warm grip settle on his left calf, another hand grabbed his shirt. From the deep cracks of the earth beneath him, a dozen gray, ulcer ridden arms struggled through the surface groping and grabbing anything of Tyson that was within reach. “No! No! Oh-nooooooo!”
Holding tightly onto the board, Tyson ripped his arms free, only to have his head pulled back and pinned to the dirt. Within seconds his body was enveloped while the foundation beneath him crumbled. Layers of fiery, burning crevices and grottos rose up around him as the brittle, appendage filled island crashed into a black dungeon of volcanic rock.
***
“Okay.” Beau perched himself on a chair by the table, coffee in hand, while leafing through the book. “So, it looks like…” He paused to take another drink. “I sent you to hell.” Taking a minute to think, he added. “This is fixable.”
Beau jumped to the floor to retrieved The Devil’s Playground from the living room and opened it to the index.
“Demon possession, no.” He read as he flipped through. “Accidental Hex. No, again… Lost in Limbo.”
On the carpet to the right of the coffee table a rolling sound caught his attention. Beau looked down quickly, finding the Ouija board. Laying as it had been, the paddle had moved, it was still moving.
“Tyson!”  Beau dropped to his knees and watched the paddle. Over and over the nose hit NO, backed up and hit it again. “I know buddy, I know. I’m gonna get you outta there.”
Going back to the book, Beau said, “Okay, Lost in Limbo it is. Ah jeez, I hope this works… page 345.” He rubbed the top of his head and moved back to the table for his coffee mug. “What do I need? What do I need? What do I need?”
Suddenly the doorbell rang.
***
Three hundred, maybe four hundred feet above Tyson the small hole, in which he’d been pulled through, slowly disappeared. What surrounded him then were glowing caverns in a darkened dungeon. Lifting himself up, the board still clamped in his arms, Tyson looked around for a tunnel or a doorway as the air around him grew dense with humidity.
“I’m in hell.” Tyson breathed, “This has got to be hell.”
Canned circus music, similar to a Jack in the Box introduction, began to play in the distance. Unflinching, Tyson remained still, watching as the glowing light of a small cave grew brighter. “No, way I’m not taking the bait.” Sitting up, Tyson hugged the Ouija board.
And although Tyson wasn’t going to move, the grotto did. Foot by foot the lava rock between the boy and the grotto shortened as the walls of the massive cavern closed in on Tyson. Within just a few seconds he was staring into the rocky opening of a makeshift stage. A large curtain veiled the sharp, abstract shadows of life sized puppets lifted into uncomfortable angles by thick strings.
Two puppets took the first scene, heads gyrating, hands pivoting, moving in seized turns and unbalanced irregular bursts of energy. The veil made it difficult to see, but when the puppeteer added a voice, it became clear that one was a man and one was a woman.
“Did you notice the eyes?” Echoed a raspy, deep voice for the man.
“Why, no.” A very flamboyant, high pitched squeak sounded behind the woman as her shadow jolted from the other side of the curtain.
“I would look again if I were you.”
Rusty metal gears rolled the curtain back exposing two very alive humans bound and tied by wires and boards, stiffening their joints into becoming compliant dolls. Every body part was secured by a needle like thread of barbed wire, their jaws and eyes held open by medical clamps.
“What the-” Tyson leapt to his feet.
A long, hollowed face peeked out from behind the board backing of the stage. “Oh dear.” It said with small surprise, “We seem to have company.”
***
“Amanda?” Beau opened the front door to reveal the Junior Varsity cheerleader.
“Tyson didn’t show up to the party.” Amanda looked agitated with her arms folded over her low cut v-neck top. “He was supposed to be there.”
“Ty isn’t here, right now.” Beau shot back with the same amount of tenacity. He paused, his mood changing abruptly. “Maybe you can help me.”
Amanda scoffed, “Why would I?”  
Grabbing her arm he pulled her inside.
“Ouch!”
“This may be a little over your head, so I’ll be patient.” Glancing at the book in his hand he asked, “Do you haaaaaaave, a mirror? Like one of those makeup mirrors?”
“Yeah, why?” Still defiantly gripping her arms, Amanda noticed the large pentagram in the center of the dining room floor. “What is that?”
“It’s Hell’s gate.” Beau answered quickly, moving on he said. “I need that mirror or Tyson’s not showing up anywhere.”
“Fine.” Pulling up her large designer purse from her shoulder, Amanda dug for a few minutes and produced a six inch purple mirror with a handle.
Taking the mirror Beau then asked, “Okay, now, are you a virgin?”
***
“He won’t like the sight of him at all.” The pale puppeteer said in the female’s voice as he cleared the backdrop of the stage. Both puppets hung stiffly, staring with unblinking eyes at Tyson.
“He’s too early for the show.” The puppeteer said in the masculine voice. Dressed in a tattered blue waistcoat and a stained yellow dress shirt, the man petted a hideous hairless cat that sat in his arms. “You’d better get out of here before he see’s you.”
All stage lights went dark. Cracks in the cavern walls glowed, illuminating the shape of the hairless jumping down from his perch. The puppeteer began repeating with muted humor, “Too late. Too late. Too late.” Like a tease he continued until his voice faded into the depth of the dungeon.
Beneath Tyson’s feet the rock bed vibrated with an intensity strong enough to knock him backwards. He hit the floor, clinging to it’s smooth, porous surface.
“How did you get here?”
Not just a voice, from the hollowed, humid darkness. It was a combination of individual voices varying in tone and gender, asking the question.
Tyson stuttered, “What-wha-what? Are you the Devil?”
As the beast spoke the cavern walls increased in heat illuminating the leathered skin and leering bright red eyes peering at Tyson only six inches from his face. “How, did, you, get, here?” At seeing the fear cloaked face of the teenage boy, the jaw-line of the beast spread into a razor sharp smile of jagged teeth.
***
“What?” Surprised by the question, Amanda asked, “What did you just ask me?”
“Virgin. Are you a virgin?” Beau repeated slowly.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Fine. I’ll do it.” Beau walked over to the series of kitchen drawers looking for a knife. “Look, Amanda.” Beau said while searching. “I accidentally sent Tyson to Hell.”
“Whatever.”
“You’re not under any obligation to believe me. But it’s true.” He found a suitable fillet knife and walked back over to the circle. “Now, I need the blood of a virgin, a mirror and the original doorway to get him back.”
Amanda laughed, “Of course, you’re a virgin.”
“Well, role playing and card games don’t exactly earn you the sexiest guy in school badge.” He paused while standing in the center of the circle. Holding the book in his left hand and the fillet knife in his right, Beau casually sliced his skin, center palm while looking at the page, adding, “I think intelligence gifts you with things like being picky.” He bit back before grabbing the handle of the mirror from his back pocket.
The sound of shattered glass struck the tile in the center of the pentagram. Beau squeezed his fist tight allowing a few heavy drops of blood to hit the glass.
“What was once then before, quickly now be restored, come thee back through Satan’s door.” Beau read from The Devil’s Playground.
As the lights flickered, in the center of the circle Tyson reappeared, screaming. Amanda screamed.
“Waoh! Woah! Woah!” Beau grabbed Tyson’s face. “You’re okay! Shutup! Amanda!”
Tyson quieted, groping his best friend. “You’re real. You’re real. There was puppets, and a giant. Satan.” Tyson rambled, waking slowly to the table in obvious shock. “This is real.” He handled the wooden arms of a dining chair.
“Oh my God, Tyson, you’re parents are gonna be pissed.” Amanda said, staring at the floor.
“Shut up, Amanda.” Tyson said. “How’d you get me back?” He looked up at Beau who was collecting the broken mirror from the floor.
“That book you called cute.” He lifted The Devil’s Playground. “Number one Guide Through Witchcraft. Don’t cast without it.”
“And the gate’s closed?”
“Should be, the only thing I sent through was you.” Beau said while grabbing a broom.
Amanda suddenly screamed again.
“What? Amanda what?!” Tyson asked wearily.
“What is that?” She was staring wide eyed at an ugly, blue eyed, hairless cat who was perched merrily on the counter top eyeing the boys.
Beau, speechless for a second, said, “Oh crap.”