AUTHOR: Diane Nelson
Magick by Diane Nelson
Red stains pockmarked the ancient oak table. Rebecca aimlessly rubbed at a spot with a damp sponge, round and round, applying little pressure, her motion tranquil and hypnotic. The splotches seemed far from random; the design tethered her to the now. Sweat ran down her brow, barely missing her left eye. The cloying heat and humidity made the stains sticky and resistant to scrubbing. She forgot why she was doing this. She went to the sink to rinse the sponge, her eyes tracking around the neat kitchen, deep in thought.
She was empty, blessedly drained. Her power lay buried, hidden away, no longer the cauldron of dark energy she had borne every day of her life. She felt free. No Magick tricks now. Her normal life was gone, all gone - her husband dead and buried, leaving a legacy of moral ruin, disgrace and humiliation. There should be guilt, buried somewhere, in her black heart. A small flicker of remorse for what she’d done. She found none, and that did not surprise her.
Alone. Abandoned. Choices, all bad, all good. Inevitable.
Where was he?
Magick. A demon’s toy, hers to command … no longer. Promises made, vows … vows, broken … bent. Gone. Time. Heals all. A lie. Dare she once more embrace it? Dare he? Dare he not? Promises.
Rebecca sighed with contentment as she flicked the surgical blade, honed to a razor sharp edge, over her left arm, choosing a spot near the elbow, seeking out a vein as she gripped her hand in a fist, pumping slow and easy. She expertly, lovingly, drew the blade across her skin, a shallow cut, small beads of blood forming, then trickling down her arm and into the sink. Tilting her head, she evaluated her work. Liking what she saw, she selected another spot, on a diagonal. She drew a slice, admiring the rich red flow, the luscious feel of warm liquid as it encrusted her skin. Pale flesh webbed, undulated, as dark pustules dispersed, bleeding heat. Healing. Magick. She paused for a bit, satisfied, allowing the sensation full measure.
Aiden, her protector, entered the kitchen and stood tense and watchful, his aura pulsing red hot waves of infrared. Power, and more. Desire. She drew the blade again, near her wrist, ignoring his presence. Oceans of need and lust surged over her. She lazily turned to look at him.
He whispered – the voice deep, melodic, filled with sensual promise. “I told you I’d come back for you.”
She swiveled back to the sink, the slices oozing red droplets, and precisely drew the blade across her palm.
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