Minutes to Midnight (25 page)

Phaedra Weldon is a writer and mother of
one. Born in Pensacola, Florida, Phaedra was raised in the lush,
green southern tropic of Georgia. She grew up on southern ghost
stories told while eating marshmallows around campfires, or on the
back of pick-up trucks in the middle of cornfields on chilly
October nights. She worked as a Graphic Artist for over twenty
years in the publishing and sign industries until she became a full
time writer in 2009. Phaedra currently lives in Atlanta, Georgia
with her husband and daughter.

This work and everything in it is the sole
property of Phaedra Weldon. Any copying or reprinting will be
prosecuted to the furthest extent of the law.

The Eldritch Files

Mysterious Times

Chapter One

They huddled in a small group, bent over
what looked and sounded to Sam like someone in trouble. Someone
held against their will.

"Not that way—" Kyle Kendrick said to her
right as he stomped through the dark forest. Her right hand shot
out and slammed into his face and cupped his mouth in her palm to
silence him.

She chanced a glance at him, his face and
expression visible under the full moon. Kyle looked angry. She made
sure she looked angrier as she nodded to the clearing just past the
group of pine trees.

Kyle looked where she
indicated and his eyes widened to the size of small chicken
eggs.
Well, that can't be a good
sign.

Samantha Hawthorne turned toward the group
facing her and her best friend. Their previous interest now lay
struggling on the ground behind them. The center of the group took
a single step forward, a long pipe in his hand. He slapped it
against his other hand.

"Well, well. We have visitors, mates." He
sounded Australian. Which was an accent that stuck out like gnat in
a bowl of milk in southern Louisiana. "Why don't you step out here
so we can get a good look at you."

They were Powers. Minions created by the
Second Choir of Angels known as Virtues to do their bidding. The
movies and television painted demon-possessed humans as being the
ultimate in nasty. Well…their creators obviously never met up with
Powers.

They were human once. But when a Virtue
ripped the human soul from their body and delivered what they
called a Heavenly Host, a soulless zombie was born. An undead
gangster.

Powers were known by their smell, which Sam
had sensed on the wind after twenty minutes of following Kyle into
the swamp near his family's old home. They were less than a mile
from Lake Pontchartrain. Fireflies dotted the shadows with yellow
light and the earthy, musty smells of rot and Night Blooming
Jasmine wasn't enough to mask the Powers's stench. To her it was
worse than decaying flesh, but not as bad as the blood of a
Faerie.

Every one of the Powers would have a tattoo
that covered their left cheek and neck; a mark to show who created
them. With this light, those markings were invisible.

"We're waiting." The center Power continued
to slap the pipe against his hand. The other four flanked him, two
on each side.

Powers tended to dress stereotypically. Worn
leather, knee-high boots, ripped shirts, and lack of bathing. Any
of them would fit right in any dystopia film or book. They also
tended to be…violent.

Sam lowered her hand from Kyle's face but
kept her gaze locked on the little group. She narrowed her eyes.
Why were Powers out in the swamp with a "guest" just past midnight?
They probably weren't on their own. Worst case scenario here would
be their Virtue was nearby. But she didn't smell anything Planar;
especially not an Angelic being.

They were the worst.

Sam held the hand she'd slapped against
Kyle's face and motioned for him to stay back. They were both God
Mother's children. Both were capable of wielding magic. But
Mother's blood worked differently in each of her children. For Sam,
her specialty was healing. Yet she'd learned through teachers and
self education the same force used to heal, could also be used to
kill.

Her friend Ivan possessed
magic along a more…
technologically
confusing path.

But Kyle…

Kyle was what her mother would have called a
Hedge Witch. Hoodoo. A bruja with herbs, potions and ritual. It'd
taken a few years to work some of his magic into more convenient
method, but she was pretty sure he wasn't armed with any of those
methods.

After all, they were out to gather Jasmine
for a special spell. No one thought there would be Powers out in
the swamp. Especially not in a town Sam worked hard at to clean
away the Planar stink. Yet these bastards had snuck in without
raising any of her alarm wards.

How?

Before she stepped out from the copse of
pine trees, Sam reached behind her to make sure her weapons were
where they should be, the buttons holding them in place inside the
back pockets of her jeans unfastened. Never know when she might
have need of them.

A twin pair of .38 specials, short barrels.
Wooden handles with the names Lord on one and Lady on the other.
They were blessed, sanctified, and fully loaded.

Of course, she'd only use the guns as a last
resort.

Sam lowered her hands and snapped her
fingers. The power of her ancestor's blood ignited. To those with
any magical sight, her hands burned with the blue white Witch Fire.
The Fire itself wasn't really a weapon—but damn if it didn't look
cool.

Because when she stepped out into the small
clearing, the four flanking Powers stepped back, their body
language suggesting an initial instinct for flight. After all…it
was rumored the God Mother's Children could destroy all things made
by the Planar Gods.

"Hello boys," Sam said in her best Mae West.
She noticed the Power on the end and gave a short laugh.
"And…female." The girl didn't really look like a female. Her head
was shaved and silver metal rings pierced the outer rims of her
ears. She was flat chested with a straight line body shape.

"Shit!"

"Aw fuck…c'mon Bobby. That's a freak'n
Witch."

"We don't want no troubles with no Mama's
kids," the one on the far left said. He was a bit wider than the
others and Sam guessed he was a local.

"A Witch huh?" Pipe-Boy said as he snarled
at Sam. He had metal in his face too, but the shadows were still
too dense for her to make out where. But she was pretty sure he had
rings in his noise, eyebrows, and lips. "I ain't afraid of no
Witch. And we done promised Dumah we'd bring him a new one." He
spit to the side.

Gross
.

Sam sensed Kyle moving in the woods behind
her. She also sensed the cloaking spell he'd used, something the
two of them had come up with as a sachet he kept around his neck.
All he had to do to activate it was grab it and whisper the trigger
word.

So far so good. None of the Powers looked to
the woods. Her only concern was—where was he going? He was supposed
to stay put!

The front man said Dumah. Had to be the
Virtue that created them. Dumah…she wasn't familiar with the name.
But there were about as many Virtues in the Realm of the Angels as
there were Daemons in the Dark Realm.

She compared them to Pigeons.

Sam smiled. "So this new one. He the guy
behind you?"

The four back up singers continued to move
out of the way and left Pipe-Boy at home plate. The guy had stopped
struggling on the ground. Sam couldn't tell if he was a kid or a
grown adult. All of the Powers she'd seen had been adults. She
didn't want to think about how she'd react if she ever met a child
Power.

"That's Dumah's new toy." Pipe-Boy laughed.
It was a juicy sound. "We need to be six strong—"

"Sshh!" The Bubba Power said. "Bobby! You
can't be tell'n a Witch this stuff!"

"Aw screw you, Teddy. I ain't afraid of no
Witch." He faced Sam again. "She's ain't nothing but a little
thing. If my junk still worked, I'd be gett'n me some of Mama's
child."

Sam sighed. This one grossed her out. But he
was typical of the type of human the Virtues chose. Nobodies. Low
lives. Scum. It would be a pretty dangerous day indeed if they ever
created a Power with brains. "Sorry—Bobby—but I'm afraid I'm too
much of a woman for you." She looked at the others. "So I'm
guessing your Virtue is due to arrive?"

"He's already here."

The Powers's reaction to their creator was
surprising, even to Sam. They all went down on their knees, even
Pipe-Boy Bobby.

The Virtue exited the woods to Sam's left.
He created a light where he moved and illuminated the soft, loamy
earth. His feet barely touched the ground. He wore a pressed,
expensive Italian suit and, in a word, he was beautiful.

But then, they all were. Monsters were
always nice to look at. Their beauty sucked the innocent in.

He had his hands in the
pockets of his slacks, his suit jacket covering his wrists. His
face was soft featured and his hair a light blond with darker
highlights. The guy reminded her of Justin Timberblake. Like
in
Social Network
.

"Dumah, I presume?" Sam kept her voice even.
She wasn't afraid of him. Virtues were little more than worker
bees. In the past two months she'd banished a Cherubim, for crying
out loud. And they were First Choir!

How hard was it going to be to kick a Virtue
back where it belonged?

Dumah stood in front of the kneeling Bobby
and smiled. He looked sideways at me. "Yes. And you are Samantha
Hawthorne. Second daughter of a Second daughter, and a child of the
God Mother. Your helix is healing—much like Raphael's."

"
You
know Raphael?" Raphael was a
Cherubim, brother to Gabriel, whose butt she kicked back in
February. It was odd that a Virtue would speak of a Cherubim with
such familiarity. The two Choirs rarely connected, as far as she
knew.

"Yes. I know many things, Witch. For
instance, I know you have great power. I know you could ignite
every Power in this space with a single spell. And I know you have
the power to send me back to the Ethereal." He smiled. So coy.
So…irritating. "But you won't."

Sam frowned. "I won't? Why? Because you'll
ask me not to?"

"No." He pulled his hand from his pocket and
held it up. Hanging from his thin fingers was the sachet Kyle wore
for his invisibility spell. "You won't because if you do, you'll
never find your friend."

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