Unbalanced: Nick Cimitiere's Oct 2010 Vignette

[Dr Archeville]

October 28th (Thursday).

Burnt Offerings

It was almost midnight. In the relative safety of his small apartment, Nick Cimitiere was finishing the construction of the veve that took up most of his kitchen. He was pretty sure this was going to do something awful to his safety deposit, but at this point, he didn’t much care.

He tried as hard as he could to ignore the roiling upsets that pinged the outer fringes of his death sense. Truth be told, he had started to ignore them long before, the same way one gets used to feedback at a rock concert. The first rise had been over a week ago, and had been fairly easy to put down – some skeletons from an anthropological site, as well as a few dead animals. But then they kept coming – more zombies, more complex magics, over a larger area.

Dead Head had been right, all those months ago; something was turning over in the realms of the dead. And Nick was pretty sure who was responsible; he’d felt something of his essence at the scene of the last rise, coating the area like an oil slick. He also knew he’d have no chance in Hell of taking the culprit on alone.

Which had led to tonight’s proceedings. Nick finished the veve, dimmed the lights, and sat down on the floor. He closed his eyes, and hoped this would work.

“O Baron,” he cried, “he who watches over the burial fields, he would keeps the dead safe in their graves, attend. Your domain is challenged, and your charges are enslaved. Your... beneficiary… seeks your aid.”

Slowly, the shadows in the apartment lengthened. Nick couldn’t see him, but he felt the presence lurking in the darkened corners.

“I attend, child. I am not ignorant of such things. But you know that I cannot cross – thanks to the workings of the one you know well.” The voice paused. “Unless…”

Nick had prepared for this. He opened the sack in the middle of the veve. “I offer you the dirt from seven upturned graves,” he said, “and the names of those your brother has corrupted. And first amongst others… I offer you justice.”

Silence again. And then the voice spoke:

“Then we have a deal.”

***

Nick pulled up to the Hallowed Plains Cemetery in Greenbank around 1 AM. Despite the best intentions of a circle of devoted caretakers, this was one of the few graveyards in Freedom that had managed to fall into a state of disrepair. Rusting gates, tarnished statues, and dead plots of grass. Needless to say, it would be perfect.

Just crossing the threshold of the cemetery, Nick had been beset by a roaring swirl of necrotic energy, a feeling not unlike plummeting into a hurricane. He could hear chanting in guttural French coming from the heart of the cemetery, and knew just who would be leading the ceremony – Baron Samedi.

The French broke for a second, giving way to English. “Up and at ‘em, sleepy deads! You spent too long sleeping in Hades’s kingdom; time to get yourself behind a right and proper god!”

Nick could feel the miasma around him reaching a fevered pitch. The working around him was something divine… but more in the “Sodom and Gomorrah” sense. The power, the craftsmanship; he knew it would be many years before he could construct something of this intricacy.

Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t tear it apart like a monkey with a chainsaw. Drawing forth his will, Nick visualized a sword cutting the Gordian knot, a sword made of salt and steel. And a few seconds later, Nick felt the structure of the weave rend slightly… and unfurl soon after.

A cry of inhuman rage went up from the center of the cemetery. Nick felt a spike of necromantic energy go up, and twisted away from where he stood – just as the ground below him erupted with the force of a mortar. He sprinted behind a nearby mausoleum, taking shelter while he prepared the invocation. As he did, he felt Samedi stalk up the main road, flooding his death sense with the stench of rot and the scent of wet dirt.

“Well, well,” the Baron said, sarcasm dripping like venom, “ain’t that always the way it gotta go. You’re an expert in the ancient ways – ways of your people, ways of the blood, ways of death and magic and might. You been doing things like this forever –“

There was the sound of thunder, and masonry rained down on Nick’s back. Before he could move, he felt himself yanked up and over the ruined crypt by spectral hands. He was twisted around roughly, and found himself staring into the face of Baron Samedi.

“…and some white boy does it better than you.”

Nick went flying through the air, coming to rest – painfully – at the foot of a headstone. He felt the top of it go right into his back; if it weren’t for his jacket, his back would likely be broken. Baron Samedi stalked forward.

“What exactly are you planning, little upjumped bokor? You may know the ways, but you ain’t got enough power to take me on. You hoping for a miracle, maybe?”

Nick could feel the Baron drawing the power inward – even without his death sense, he could hear the air rushing out, an unearthly shriek filling the night sky. Now was the time. He felt Samedi unleash a burst of death energy –

And from behind a set of another eyes, he watched as his body leapt up and grabbed it out of mid-air, choking it until it dissipated. He then felt his lips open, as another voice poured out.

“As of a matter of fact… yes, he was.”

The Baron’s face fell. “Brother Cimitiere,” he said. “It’s been some time.”

“So it has,” said the Ghede. Nick felt himself stalking forward towards Samedi. He could sense a ward go out, a shield of the very essence of death. Then he felt Baron Cimitiere move his arm and rake the air, and suddenly, the ward tore like tissue paper.

“And I see you have not learned. You are in my domain, brother. In my fields. And you have abandoned your duties. You have chained lost souls. You have prevented passage to Guinee. You have shackled the bodies of men and turned them into grim puppets. Do you have any idea what you have done?”

“More than you can imagine, dear brother,” Samedi said. “I have become the death men fear. We may show them the roads to Guinee, but still they fear us. Still they make us monsters. You say I chain men? I say, I give them what they want most! I give them the Grim Reaper!”

Nick could feel the hurricane of necrotic essence stirring up around him once more. Only this time, it wasn’t coming from Samedi. Samedi could obviously feel it, too; Nick saw him glancing side to side, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Perhaps it is your cheval, brother,” Baron Cimitiere said, “but you know nothing of what men want. I know well what my children desire. They desire safety, rest, and bounty. Things you have denied them often.”

Nick saw the ghosts of Hallowed Plains stepping out of the night. Usually, the ghosts he saw were somewhat faded and muted, afterimages of the mortal coil. These ones, however, were solid and hearty, given strength by the power roiling around him. And some of them, he saw, were holding chains.

“And they wish to have words with you.”

The ghosts charged as one body. Samedi threw forth his power wildly into the swarming crowd, but he was overwhelmed. When the crowd withdrew, he was bound with ectoplasmic restraints, bucking against his prison.

“We must talk, brother. Elsewhere.”

The ground opened up beneath Samedi, and he screamed as he plummeted into a seemingly bottomless chasm. The ground healed over quickly, and Nick felt the bond snap. He took a step forward, slightly disjointed by control of his own body.

“I believe we have fulfilled the deal, child.”

“Yeah,” Nick said. "Yeah we have.”

“I have… duties to attend to. However, if you wish to discuss a… longer term arrangement…”

Nick shook his head. “Sorry, Baron,” he said. “But I gotta be freelance. Part of the job.”

"I understand,” said the Baron in a tone that said he clearly didn’t. “Next time you call on me, however… I may demand a higher price.”

Nick felt the connection well and truly sever, and he was alone in the graveyard once more. He turned and headed towards the gates, making plans for the next step.

Samedi may be otherwise occupied, he thought, but if he’s really waging war against Hades… well, not like the other side’s gonna let up…