Chapter 5: Thaumaturgy
Anya’s spot was a narrow beach covered by a layer of tree canopy. The shade sent a pattern of tree branches and leaves all over the sand. The place was quiet and there was seemingly nobody in sight. The lake was calm that day, and they were practically invisible to the rest of civilization.
“I like to come here when I am alone.” Anya said. Sitting down on the beach in-front of the water. “This place reminds me of where I grew up.”
“In Russia?” Heather asked. She didn’t know much of Anya’s backstory.
“No. In Oregon.” Heather sat down next to Anya, taking in the view of the lake. “I moved to America when I was quite young.” Heather was still impressed by how well Anya enunciated. Despite the harsh sounds of her voice she came in quite clear.
“And yet, you still have an accent?” Heather asked inquisitively. Her notebook was closed for now, this was off the record.
“Yes. I still know my language.” She smiled. Her harsh features looking particularly wolfish in the shade. “My mother tongue.” Anya leaned back on both hands and looked up. “Where do you call home?”
Heather was amused at how peculiarly the question was phrased. “I don’t really have one. My parents forced me to move out when I just became an adult.” Anya looked over, noticing for the first time Heather was relatively honest and unguarded. “When I met my ex-boyfriend, I thought my life was solved. Like I didn’t have to worry anymore. And all it led to was my life becoming more stressful and complicated.” Heather didn’t normally open up to strangers. Anya’s weirdness was strangely comforting to her. She didn’t feel like she needed to be on-guard around her. Michael was still on her mind and she felt like letting it out.
“What was he like?” She asked curiously. “I have not had much luck with men. They always seem so timid around me. And I hate how they do not like me for what I am.”
“What you are?” Heather asked curiously, her interest piqued. Anya’s expression changed to one of embarrassment.
“What was he like?” Anya sounded more on guard, unwilling to budge.
“His name was Michael.” Heather said. “We lived together for two years.” Heather hadn’t really told this story to anyone in great detail, most people didn’t really care enough to hear about it. “When it started, he was perfect. We would know how to begin and end each other’s jokes…”
“Ah, I know the feeling. When a person completes you. Like you are no longer a wanderer.” Anya’s sage-like perspective was weird but Heather continued.
“We would do everything together. When he wanted something, I was at his beck and call, about to give up my life for him. I was even thinking of settling down and leaving my job for him.” Heather hadn’t told anyone that last detail before. It didn’t even become conscious to her really until she said it. Her job did stress her out sometimes and did feel like it was more trouble than it was worth. Despite being so challenging and rewarding.
“Mmm” Anya purred. She started sitting closer to Heather. “What went wrong with him? This Michael. He seems like a good guy.” There was some concern in Anya’s voice. Heather wasn’t used to feeling concern from someone else.
“Well. Eventually it felt like he stopped caring. Like I would go days without seeing him, and he was perfectly fine with that. He stopped asking me to do things with him. He was always too busy.” The last part was something that bothered Heather a lot. She had forgotten she only came down to the beach to interrogate Anya about Jezebel. “I wondered what changed. Did I change him? Was he always like that and I didn’t notice? And eventually.... he just leaves…” Heather trailed off, her sentence left hanging. Anya’s face turned to concern.
“He just leaves? Left where?” Anya asked.
“He took his things and left. He wouldn’t tell me where. He stopped looking me in the eye, he just said I’m going. He took most of our stuff along with him.” Heather wasn’t maintaining eye contact anymore she was just looking down. “And I kind of wanted him to go. I thought I was better off alone and without anyone. Like maybe Michael was a fantasy I created in my head. A fantasy of a perfect life. A life that I will never have.” There was a pause before Anya broke the silence.
“And then you came here? Because of this Michael?” Heather was immediately reminded of Jezebel and why she arrived to Faris lake.
“Well kind of. I came for a vacation.” Heather wasn’t looking Anya in the eye, although the concern in Anya’s face didn’t leave. Anya went for a hug around Heather’s shoulders. Heather didn’t really reciprocate the hug; she wasn’t a touchy person. That wasn’t going to change regardless of how nice Anya was being. Heather kept her emotions inward, away from people. After what seemed like seconds Anya let go and sat back.
“I am sorry. I feel for you zaika” Heather’s eyebrow perked up at the Russian word.
“What does that mean?” She asked curiously. Her mood had picked up.
“It is a Russian word, for bunny. My mother used to say “Anya, you must eat your vegetables zaika.”” There was a sudden sadness in Anya’s voice. “I miss her. So, I like calling people zaika. Nobody here in America seems to understand. And that is okay. It makes me feel like she is with me still.” She turned her head and stared at the lake. Heather felt a little touched and a little guilty over wanting to interrogate Anya now. She decided against opening her notebook and asking about Jezebel. There will be time to do that later. She thought.
“This is a nice place. What do you do here usually?” Heather asked. Looking around the canopy.
“Well. Occasionally I lure a kitten here and we have fun.” Anya laughed a little.
“Fun? What does that mean?” Heather asked curiously. Anya got up and walked over to a bush. Where she pulled out a hidden bottle of whiskey.
“We sing and we dance. And we have fun. Do you like to have fun zaika?” She asked, walking over.
“It’s a bit early in the day to go drinking Anya. But sure. I like to have fun.” Anya laughed in response.
“Come. We shall go to the restaurant. I want to see you eat.” Anya said this accidentally but Heather didn’t pick up on the subtle sexual connotation in Anya's words. Anya returned the whiskey bottle to the bush, and Heather followed her away from the beach.
~~~
Jezebel was starting to scare the rest of the staff. She was barking orders like a slave driver. “Delacroix. Did you get the ingredients?” She said angrily at Melanie.
“Yeah just about.” Melanie had been given peculiar instructions, it read like a laundry list of cake ingredients. Sugar, salt, flour, baking soda. It also contained some weird things like turpentine and aloe vera. She didn’t reveal to her boss that the kitchen was out of sugar so she substituted it with sweet and low from a nearby coffee machine. She figured the boss wouldn’t notice the difference. “What’s this all for?”
“Don’t ask questions.” She barked at her. “Theo, where is she?” She asked. Theo was on break when Wanda arrived, probably well timed. He was similarly scared of the ‘push like Melanie was. He was sitting at his desk watching the monitors.
“She’s been hanging with Anya, I lost them when they went to the lake. But they’re going to Rebecca’s right now.” He was typing repeatedly, switching between different monitors.
“Good… good…” Everything was going so far according to plan. “Has Lance brought the ciper?”
“Yeah he brought your dolly.” He said sarcastically rolling his eyes. On Theo’s desk was a stuffed Raggedy Ann looking doll. With straw-like red hair wearing a blue dress. “I don’t know what stroller he must’ve nabbed it from this time.”
“Lance has a way with women, especially mothers.” Jezebel said. “He has his uses. Has he gotten her hair?”
“He’s getting it now. There was some in her shower catch. He also found some on a comb in her bathroom.” Jezebel smiled approvingly.
“Excellent. I’ll make sure to reward him appropriately. We will be ready to begin.” Jezebel walked over to Theo’s desk and grabbed the doll.
“Begin? Begin what?” Melanie asked, concern raising in her voice. Theo looked away as Jezebel turned to face her.
“Begin the spell.” She said. “The curse.” She walked over to another room close by. This one was filled with cubicles, complete with computers sitting on them. The 6th floor used to be an office administration area before Jezebel had Lance gut it. Now it mostly lay unused, except in circumstances such as this. In the middle of the room was a circular table with a wooden bowl sitting on-top of it.
“Curse? What curse? What are you talking about?” Melanie asked. She anticipated some kind of rebuke from Jezebel like “don’t ask questions” but this time she actually answered her question.
“What you saw me do before was a basic power. My old mentor Barry referred to it as a “cantrip”. What we are about to do is something else entirely.” She placed the doll in the bowl and motioned to Melanie to bring her the ingredients. “Thaumaturgy.”
“What’s that?” She asked. Melanie was confused.
“Thaumaturgy is a magical spell. It requires a physical component, called a cipher. It requires some living component. In this case, hair.” She motioned to the clump of Wanda’s hair that was now sitting on the table. “And it requires an incantation from a witch. After that, the spell takes shape.”
“What does this spell do?” Melanie asked. She placed the ingredients on the table and watched as Jezebel poured them in equal amounts into the bowl.
“Do you remember Delacroix? When I found you, you knew absolutely nothing about art.” Melanie winced at this. She didn’t feel like it was true, but there was some truth to what she said. She did almost flunk out of art school. “And what did I do for you?”
“You… cast a spell on me…” She responded slowly. Looking down.
“Yes. I placed a curse on you. There are positive curses, and there are negative curses. In that case, I transferred the talent from your teacher to you. And in exchange…”
“I work for you”. Melanie said. A bitter tone emerged in her voice.
“Precisely dear.” She said smiling. “Now that was a positive curse, it transformed you into an artist with 30 years of experience.” Jezebel moved the head of the doll in the bowl so it faced forward. “This is a negative curse. Same principle, different result.”
“What do you mean?” Melanie asked.
“What we are about to do. Is take certain attributes from that woman who you saw, and give them to our journalist friend. This curse is rather complicated…” Jezebel looked away for a second. “And to confess, I do not fully understand it myself. But the idea is simple.” At that moment Lance walked in, carrying a clump of hair he had neatly assembled in his hand.
“Here you go boss.” Lance said. He walked over and handed it to Jezebel.
“Good work.” She said smiling. Melanie looked at Lance and thought to herself. Is he going to do a flip for her too?
“Now Delacroix. This curse works thusly.” Jezebel took the hair taken from Heather’s room and began tying strands of it together in small knots. “We take the hair from our journalist. And we place it on the ciper. In this case, the doll that Lance has brought for us. This tells the spell who to target. Then we place our subject’s hair, in this case the woman you briefly met in this mixture I am creating. Once I say the incantation. The spell will take effect.” Jezebel placed a circlet of hair around the neck of the red headed doll.
“But what does it do exactly?” Melanie asked impatiently.
“Once the spell has taken effect our journalist will begin to change. A transformation will occur. It begins mentally. Wants and desires are replaced. Interests and hobbies begin to change. Eventually the change becomes physical. Hair color changes, body size too. Eventually the subject becomes an almost exact replica.”
“Almost?” Melanie asked. She was skeptical.
“Well…” Jezebel paused. “Some things don’t transfer over. One’s identity remains the same. The purer the mixture, the purer the result.” Jezebel placed some of Wanda’s hair into the white gunky mixture. It sank inside and disappeared from view. Melanie noticed that she tucked the rest of it into a pocket on her dress but paid it no mind. “We are all ready to begin the incantation.”
“How long does it take to take effect?” Melanie asked. Looking crossly at the doll sitting in the bowl.
“The first changes begin immediately. However, the overall change is gradual. It normally takes a week to complete. Hopefully, we’ll notice some of the changes on the monitor.” Jezebel pushed a button on her headset. “Is she in the restaurant still? With Anya?”
“Yup. They’re talking about you right now.” Jezebel laughed a little.
“I bet they are. The journalist has a mouth on her.” She looked back down at her mixture. “They’ll have a lot more to talk about soon.” Jezebel grabbed at her necklace and closed her eyes. Lance had since left the room. Melanie wondered why but in an instant, she felt something.
Jezebel moved her hands directly over the bowl. And started speaking. “Shemhamforash.” Melanie’s hair stood on end. She felt the sudden feeling of static electricity surrounding her. The lights in the room suddenly went out.
“Jantar” Jezebel’s voice sounded deeper. Like the words weren’t coming out of her mouth, but from someone else entirely. Melanie saw the computer monitors in the cubicles around the room started to light up. Displaying green text and random numbers.
“Anigeron. Barcara. Pankot. Shabbat.” Melanie watched as the bowl started to glow. The mixture inside of it started to bubble like it was boiling. It turned a murky dark brown color and had the consistency of gravy.
“Burgess… Califa.” The doll began to shake like it was having a seizure. The hair around its neck started to glow red. Melanie recognized the color as matching Wanda’s hair. The doll continued to convulse and shake profusely. Why doesn't she end it? Melanie thought to herself. Almost as if sensing her desire, Jezebel said the final word.
“Mikulushka” Jezebel gasped before collapsing to the ground. Melanie felt the feeling of being surrounded by static electricity leave her. In another second, the lights came on in the room. The monitors went blank.
“Boss? Boss?” Melanie asked. Walking over to Jezebel. She was kneeling on the ground. Her hands gripping both of her temples tightly. Melanie saw that the brown mixture in the bowl had stopped bubbling. But the hair did not stop glowing red. “Did it work boss”?
“It should have.” Melanie saw Jezebel’s nose started to bleed again. She also looked different, somehow… older. Which was weird since she already looked really old. But something was different, like she was wearier and more fragile. “Let’s check.” Melanie helped Jezebel to her feet, and accompanied her out of the room.