5. Chapter Four

The alarm I set on my phone yesterday went off about an hour ago, leaving me very little time to get ready to meet Arianna.

Trying my hardest to keep my mind off of what happened last night, I hop into the shower and allot myself ten minutes to speed through it.

I get dressed in record time, too. Quickly tossing together an outfit consisting of a pair of dark jeans, a maroon t-shirt and a brown cardigan. My hair has grown a little longer than I usually like to keep it, so instead of wasting time taming the soft waves, I braid the long brown strands and let it hang down my back.

Grabbing my bag, I head for the front door and step out into the chilly Autumn air. The moment the sun hits my face, I instantly feel better. Although the temperature outside is unusually cold, the sun is bright and warm and that makes it much more tolerable.

The call of a raven draws my attention to the towering trees that line the concrete city street, and my eyes scan the branches overhead until I find the source of the loud noise.

The big, black bird sits perched on a thick branch. The sunlight catches its feathers as it caws excitedly, a vibrant blue sheen glittering in the light of day. I don't think I've ever seen a raven in the city before, so I watch it with curiosity for a few moments as it shakes out its wings and peers down at me.

As I step away from my front door and head down the street toward the nearby coffee shop I frequent, Java Heart, I take notice of many more large black birds scattered around.

There are several ravens perched in the trees that are scattered periodically down the sidewalk. I've definitely never seen one in the city before, what I normally see here are crows.

I can tell these aren't crows, however. They are too big, and their beaks are larger and curvier than the crows. They are also strangely quiet now. They watch me intently, as though I'm carrying a bucket of bird food in my arms and they haven't eaten in months.

I love birds. Dad and I used to go bird watching when I was younger. Living with the consequences of trauma as a child, I really felt drawn to birds because they could so easily escape and fly far away. He taught me about all the small ones that take up residence around the city, but he often spoke favorably of the larger birds.

Sometimes we would drive up north to go bird watching with his best friend Chris and their high powered binoculars. I would marvel at the ravens, owls, and falcons with their impressive wing spans, their beautiful colours, and their ability to fly freely— high up in the sky.

Watching these ravens now, there seems to be something off about them. I can't quite pinpoint exactly what, but as I near the end of my walk I feel it has more to do with how they are acting than how they look. Perhaps they're sick, or there's another predatory bird in the area.

Seeing the charming mom and pop coffee shop up ahead, I pick up my pace until my feet land on the small concrete step leading to the dark glass door. Stepping inside, I am greeted by the glorious aromas of coffee, tea and freshly baked pastries.

My eyes drift around the shop until I catch Arianna's green gaze, a sympathetic smile lifting to my face. She looks as though she hasn't slept much, but she still offers me a timid smile in return. The warm sunlight is filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling storefront window pane, lighting up her eyes and casting the cozy space in bright light.

I head up to the counter and order a café au lait with a sprinkle of cinnamon sugar before heading over to the circular table Arianna chose, taking the seat that faces her.

"Hey, girl," she says, after sipping from her steamy mug. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," I respond, setting my drink down and reaching out to gently touch her hand in greeting. "I'm so sorry I'm late."

She smiles again, but it's weak. "That's okay. I'm just glad to see a friendly face."

"How are you holding up?" I ask her, before lifting my drink and wrapping my hands around the warm, dark brown mug. I lean down slightly to blow across the surface, the pretty swirl of cinnamon sugar partially sinking beneath the rippling surface thanks to the gentle force of my breath.

"It's been horrible, Selene," she begins, setting down her drink and dropping her head into her hands. "Connor is posting all over his socials about going to clubs and partying with his friends, like this break up doesn't bother him at all."

Her voice has a distinct quiver to it, and the sound breaks my heart. "Oh, Ari. I'm so sorry. Men tend to cope with their emotions a lot differently than we do," I tell her, hoping to make her feel better about the terrible way he's handling things. "But still, he's definitely being a giant asshole."

She laughs softly at my insult, lifting her head to regard me with teary eyes. "I feel like I can't stop crying over him, and he is just glad to be single and free of me."

"He lost the best thing to ever walk into his life, and is probably using partying nonstop to ignore his feelings."

"You think so?" she asks, watching me closely.

"For sure. He probably drinks so he doesn't have to deal with his own shit," I say with a smile.

She laughs again, though it doesn't do much to mask her sadness. I watch as she lifts her cup of coffee to her lips for a sip.

I wish I could say more to comfort her, but I'm not the most experienced person when it comes to real relationships. I've had a few casual hook-ups that were short term and not serious, and that is about the extent of it. I didn't feel much of anything when we decided to go our separate ways, because I never felt the need to make deep and lasting connections with men.

Thinking about it now, I realize that it's likely a result of my abuse. My uncle is probably the reason several of my wires have gotten crossed growing up. If that cruel man taught me anything, it's that even the most seemingly safe relationships can turn out to be dangerous.

As a child, you never expect a member of your own family to hurt you the most.

I give my head a subtle shake, abandoning my selfish thoughts and turning my focus back on my friend. "I'm sorry, Ari. This is a shit situation, and it is going to hurt like hell for a while, but I promise you something better is coming your way."

"I hope so," she says quietly as she takes another long sip, and I mirror her action.

The aromatic coffee warms me as I drink it down, soothing and familiar, its cinnamon scent reminding me of cold winter days spent reading a good book right here in this shop. I used to come here to spend an hour or two after a leisurely walk around my city neighbourhood.

"What about you?" she asks me in between sips. "How are things at work?"

I wince, then laugh softly. "Mr. Kline has me sorting and shelving his most recent order of books. The boxes are massive, and the back room is stuffed floor to ceiling."

"That man has an addiction," she says with a smile, and I nod in agreement.

"An addiction I'm paying for. I'm going to be sick of hauling stacks of books around by the time the week is over," I confess, slightly exasperated.

I don't bother telling her about the entity I encountered last night. She wouldn't believe me, anyway. I'm not actually certain that anyone would, except maybe my witchy friend Talise. A priest might believe me, too. Maybe I should pay a visit to the church around the corner from my apartment. See if they happen to employ an exorcist or something, ideally someone that can come bless my apartment.

Arianna tells me a little more about her break up with Connor, but then we settle into lighter conversation about our plans for this coming winter. We drink our coffees slowly, just enjoying each other's company, until the sun slips behind a heavy cloud and someone approaches our little table.

Arianna sees him first as he wanders up from behind where I'm sitting, an odd expression on her face. Feeling a heavy presence at my back, I frown and turn to face whatever she is looking at.

A stranger.

Staring at me with a blank expression.

"Did you need something?" Arianna asks, setting her nearly empty coffee mug down.

He says nothing. He just continues to stare at me. I shoot a confused glance to Arianna, then look back at the stranger. He has dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, and is wearing cargo pants and a black hooded sweater. There's nothing special about him, except for the empty look in his eyes.

He reminds me of the guy that frightened me on my bus ride home from my parent's house. It's unnerving the way he is staring at me so intensely, while his face remains expressionless and he stands as still as a mannequin. Instantly, I am extremely uncomfortable, considering how frayed my nerves already are after last night's paranormal encounter.

I stare at him, analyzing every detail of his features, until I am certain this is not the man from the bus. Two different men, but the same bizarre behaviour. What are the chances?

"Do you know this guy, Selene?" Arianna asks, but I can't turn away from him to respond to her. I refuse to turn my back on him. Instead, I scoot my chair farther away from him and shake my head in response to her question.

"Alright, dude. Fuck off, will you?" she barks, clearly angry now. I knew her nerves were likely equally frayed today, but I wasn't expecting her to snap at him like that. Arianna isn't the type to swear at anyone, let alone tell them to fuck off. Ari is a gentle soul, and happens to be very slow to anger.

The stranger still says nothing, and when I finally pull my gaze away from him I notice Arianna fishing for her phone out of her oversized purse. "Alright, then, I'm calling the cops."

I shift my empty mug away from the edge of the table and turn to stand up, but I fall back into my seat because the man is now towering over me with one hand on the corner of the table, preventing me from leaving.

"He can save you," he says simply, his voice eerily monotone, his pupils dilating as he speaks. I shudder as goosebumps erupt all over my body. His voice sounds off, I can't shake the weirdness of this encounter. Normal people don't act like this, speaking without inflection.

"Oh, hell no," Arianna groans. "We are not interested in learning about your lord and savior today, dude." With that, she stands up and forces herself between me and the unknown man. He stumbles back but quickly regains his footing and resumes standing there like a human statue.

Arianna grabs my hand and helps me to my feet, wrapping her arm around the back of my body to usher me towards the door. He speaks again, in that same monotone voice.

"You just have to let him in."

I glance back at him, just in time to see him turn his body to face us as we exit.

He's smiling. The most terrifying smile I think I've ever seen.

His eyes are still empty and his face is an expressionless mask, except for his mouth. It looks so unnatural that I can't help but shudder, knowing my own face is easily displaying how uncomfortable and unnerved I am.

His freakish smile is stretched so wide you can see almost every single lightly yellowed tooth. Even his gums are visible, because the strain of exerting such a huge smile pulls the muscles around his mouth so taut that it looks painful.

I can even see several thin lines of crimson appear as his lips crack from the effort, drawing a tiny amount of blood to the surface of his dry mouth.

It scares the shit out of me. My heart is pounding wildly as Arianna guides me through the door and onto the street. "Do you need me to call you a cab? That guy is a weirdo."

"No. I'm only two blocks away from home," I tell her, still so shaken by the encounter that I likely seem like I'm wandering out into the sidewalk in a haze.

Glancing back through the storefront window, the strange man is now gone. I'm not sure if his sudden disappearance makes me feel better or worse.

Arianna hails a cab for herself, and I glance around the street, looking for the man in the crowds of people walking around us. That is when I notice the ravens.

So many ravens, hanging around the trees and buildings, quietly watching.

"Fuck," I mutter, as the cab pulls up for Arianna.

"What is it?" she asks, turning away from the curb to regard me carefully.

"Nothing, Ari. Go on home, I'll text you in 10 minutes to let you know I got home safe." She nods, and I give her a quick hug. The embrace is warm and feels so comforting, I almost don't want to let go.

"Please be safe. Love you, girl," she says as she opens the cab door and gets inside. I offer her a wave of my hand, then head off in the direction of home. The ravens seem to follow me, flitting from one tree to the next, almost as though they are escorting me.

I don't know what to think or feel. All of these weird things started happening after I cast my protection spell, after I used the candle with the unknown sigil. A symbol I carved into the wax with my own hand. I thought the sigil was for protection, but maybe I was wrong.

I can still see the intricate design in my mind's eye. The symbol, like an ancient rune, is burned into my brain. I don't think I could forget it even if I made a serious effort to.

I keep my eyes on the ravens until I reach my front door, not wasting any time as I unlock it, step inside, and bolt the lock behind me.

Turning my back to the outside world, I lean against the door and close my eyes. With a deep, cleansing sigh, I try my hardest to clear my mind and organize my thoughts.

Short of going back to Rome and talking to the shop owner, which isn't a viable option right now, I don't know how to investigate the symbol I found in that old book. I want to understand what is happening here, but I don't know where to start. It's not like I can plug the unique marking into a google search. Even if I drew it on a piece of paper, scanned it into my laptop, and used reverse image searching technology, what are the chances that this archaic rune would be found anywhere online?

Another deep sigh, this one out of frustration, pushes past my lips. I open my eyes and head for the kitchen, intent on making a cup of tea and reading the one book in my collection that mentions demonology.

As I wait for the machine to brew my green tea, I head over to the narrow, black bookshelf in my living room and pull free a heavy textbook called Gods, Demons, and Familiars.

"I have a few things to work with," I think aloud, heading back for my tea. "He said he is a Prince of Hell, a teacher, a protector. There are ravens everywhere. Then there's that owl I saw at my parents house…" my words trail off as I stare out into the garden through the window over my sink, my tea mug secured in one hand with the book tucked up under my armpit.

The deadly nightshade has doubled in size. Overnight.

"Uh, that's not subtle," I whisper, my eyes wide.

"Maybe he likes poisonous plants, too."

Taking my tea and my book, I wander over to my cozy reading chair and crawl into it, grabbing my fleece blanket and getting comfortable. I glance at the clock on the far wall, taking note of the time. It's five in the afternoon, and since I work tomorrow I'll give myself a couple hours of research time before I need to sleep.

Opening the modern looking book, I take a sip of my tea before setting it aside and beginning to read. I'm not hopeful something so pretty and contemporary will have the information I need, but I need to try.

Witches usually worship under patron Gods and Goddesses to guide them during their journey, so maybe that is why I left myself so open and vulnerable to supernatural attack. I thought wards, protection spells and my own ancestors would be enough to keep me safe from evil forces. Apparently those things are not enough where Princes of Hell are concerned.

I sigh, dropping the heavy book into my lap. "I was just trying to protect myself. I just want him to disappear and leave me alone."

I was never one to speak my thoughts out loud, but since I started my practice a little over a year ago I have become acutely aware of the fact that our guides and ancestors often linger around us, watching and willing to help. Sometimes all it takes to find answers is to speak the questions out loud where our guiding spirits can hear us.

I thought everything I was pursuing would be enough to send my uncle away, but now I am questioning everything. I came into my craft with no experience and very little information, hoping to wing it and learn as I go. That may have been where I went wrong.

Just two months ago, my abusive uncle showed up at my work to buy a book. He walked around the store, and I was frozen in fear. I couldn't move from behind the counter, my body paralyzed by his presence.

When he finally made his way to the counter and dropped a book on the surface, he decided it was the perfect opportunity to tell me he missed me. To tell me that he dreamed of me almost every night.

I had what I can only assume was a post traumatic stress response and fled the scene. I literally ran from the store, all the way home, leaving it completely unattended.

I nearly lost my job. I would have, I'm sure, if not for the fact that my boss Mr. Kline is a good friend of Dad's.

It was after that experience that I decided I couldn't wait any longer. For my sanity and for my survival, I had to try and get rid of him myself.

Sitting here now, my book in my lap, feelings of guilt and sadness suddenly flood me.

Where is God? If there are demons, there must be angels, right? That must mean God is real, too. Does he hate me? Did he abandon me as a toddler and leave me vulnerable for evil to find, ravage me, and then pick my bones clean?

These thoughts hit me like a freight train. I'm breaking my own heart as I sit here, questioning everything. Does God truly hate me? Did I do something so horrible, that he abandoned me to be molested and abused by my mother's brother?

If demons are real, and angels are real, then God is real… that means, the Devil is real too.

A shiver passes through me. With a demon proving its existence to me, that proves the existence of the other religious aspects, too.

So, where is God?

Lifting my book back up, I continue reading.

Before I know it, day turns to night, and I've been reading for so long that my home has now fallen under the dark shroud of night. Tendrils of shadow fill the corners of every room, and overwhelm the hallway that leads from my main living area to my bedroom.

My eyelids start to feel heavy, as my mind becomes drowsy; filled with far more information than is likely healthy to consume in a single evening. Before I can form another lucid thought, I drift off into a light slumber.