Chrysalis Read online

  * * *

  Chippewa Publishing LLC

  www.chippewapublishing.com

  Copyright ©2005 by Terri Lynn Coop

  * * *

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

  * * *

  CHRYSALIS

  by

  Terri Lynn Coop

  CHRYSALIS

  A Chippewa Publishing Publication, February 2005

  Chippewa Publishing, LLC.

  678 Dutchman Drive, Suite 3

  Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin 54729

  CHRYSALIS Copyright © 2005 Terri Lynn Coop

  Edited by Ricki Marking-Camuto

  Cover Art by Marianne LaCroix

  Proofed by Brandy Overton

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole, or in part, by any means, without the written consent of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination, or are fictitiously used. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  WARNING: The contents of this book are intended for mature audiences only. Language, violence, and sexual situations may apply.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Chrysalis

  Alyzia Anubis was bored to death. Of course, that was not her real name. The boring life of Alyzia was thrilling compared with her previous existence as Alice Anderson. Desperate to escape her conventional parents, Alice fantasized for years about life on the exotic (at least in her mind) fringe of society. After high school, she cashed in her college fund and moved to the city. Once there, she declared her conversion to Wicca and changed her name to Alyzia Anubis.

  After two years, life bored her. Her coven sucked—all they talked about were crystals, and how to cast love spells on Brad Pitt. Alyzia wanted more, but the Goth and vampire communities ignored her. She tried everything: the right clothes, makeup, tattoos, and piercings. No matter what she did, the vampires ignored her and the prominent Goths treated her like a tourist.

  "Screw them,” Alyzia said, closing the door to her studio apartment.

  She had spent most of the night down at The Dark Side, a local bar that catered to the Goth and punk crowds. Rumors had circulated of a party at The Demetrius Club, an after-hours salon run by the vampire coalition. Entry was by invitation only; entrants had to know the answer to the demon riddle of the night. No one would tell her the answer and some even laughed when she asked. By one in the morning, all that remained at the bar were the losers and Alyzia. Disgusted, she had come home.

  What more do they want? She thought, looking at her beautiful witch-themed apartment. A spirit ring with cast iron candelabras at the four compass points encircled her bed. The coverlet, purchased from The Wiccan Warehouse and Discount Outlet, sported an embroidered pentagram. She had a copy of every spell book offered by the local occult bookstore and bought all her groceries at the New Age Market.

  "What's wrong with me, Alphonse?” she asked the black cat resting on the windowsill. As if in response, the cat yawned, stretched, and turned his back to her.

  Alyzia lit the candles on her way to the kitchen nook. After looking over her choices, she took a container marked “Wisdom Salad” from the refrigerator. Grabbing an apple, her athame, and a fork, she sat in the middle of her pentagram-covered bed.

  "Fucking snob vampires. They can shove The Demetrius Club up their collective asses. Who wants to hang around a bunch of posers and drink red wine? They don't even have the guts to drink real blood. To hell with all of them,” she proclaimed, opening the salad. The piquant smell of crushed bay leaves tickled her nose.

  She looked at the freestanding mirror next to her closet. She had positioned it according to her Feng Shui book to capture the earth's natural energy and keep it in the room. However, instead of the glow of positive karma, Alyzia saw only her reflection.

  She had dyed her blonde hair black and streaked it with gold, green, blue, and red to symbolize the elements of wind, earth, water, and fire. It was a bitch to maintain, but a witch had to keep up appearances. Black eyeliner, white makeup, and scarlet lips added a nice touch of Gothic mystery.

  Why don't they like me? I do everything to show I'm a cool witch, she mused, carving the apple with the razor-sharp knife.

  "Shit!"

  The blade had sliced through the apple and across her palm. Blood, mixed with apple juice, dripped into her salad. She further seasoned her now ruined dinner with tears of pain and frustration.

  "I might as well be dead. I wish I were—that would show them!"

  She wrapped her hand in the napkin to staunch the blood and took a couple of sleeping pills to ease the pain and help her doze. Her salad, a clotted mess of herbs, bay leaves, blood, apple juice, and tears, lay forgotten on the floor beside her bed.

  * * * *

  About an hour before dawn, Alyzia awoke to the sound of Alphonse snarling and hissing. She barely recognized the arched beast with the yellow eyes and bared fangs as her sweet-tempered, lazy pet.

  "Alphonse! Shut up!” she scolded. Her head was still fuzzy from the sleeping pills and her hand hurt like hell. Alphonse ignored her and continued to howl and back away from the bed. When he reached the window, he squeezed through an impossibly small opening. Alyzia heard him clatter down the fire escape.

  "Great, just frigging great. Well, I hope he knows his way back because I'm not going to chase his ass."

  "Mistresssss...” The voice was low and sibilant like it issued from a mouth full of slime.

  Alyzia turned toward the sound. She was still too stoned to register fear; however, what she saw shot such surges of adrenalin through her that she felt the effects of the pills vanish almost immediately.

  On her wall was a shadow, a shadow that none of the items in her room could cast. The man-shaped shadow moved though her candles had guttered and the only light in the room was the steady glow of the streetlight shining through the windows.

  "Mistress, I have come as you asked. I am here for you."

  Panic threatened to envelope her.

  Stop it. You're a witch. There's nothing to fear. This has to be a dream, she reasoned.

  She pulled herself into a sitting position and addressed the shadow in the voice she saved for high rituals. “What say you? How dare you invade my chambers! Be gone!"

  To Alyzia's surprise and delight, the shadow cowered a bit. “Mistress, I cannot leave. You made a wish and I am here to fulfill it. I cannot ignore a wish brought forth by a spell such as yours."

  "What wish would that be?” She felt like she was in the one of the passion plays from the annual Wicca gatherings.

  "Your wish to die, Mistressss."

  His words chilled her. Somewhere deep inside her, beneath the surface layers of Alyzia Anubis, the soul of Alice Anderson knew something was wrong and that this was no dream.

  "What ... what do you mean?” Her voice had lost its imperiousness and quavered a little.

  "You cast a wish spell and asked for death. As you are a powerful witch, they sent me to escort you.” The shadow bowed with a flourish.

  Cast a spell? What is this thing talking about? Then her eyes drifted to the bowl of salad, the Wisdom Salad. She remembered the label: “Contains hazelnuts for wisdom and bay leaves to make your wishes come true!” Realization dawned on her: she had mixed bay leaves and blood inside a pentagram; she had also added the e
ssence of apple and tears, both powerful spell enhancers; she had drawn her own blood with a sacred athame, and then wished she were dead. This demon was here to kill her.

  Crap! I cast a spell. A big one.

  A mixture of terror and perverse pride crept over her. How many of the pathetic wannabes in her coven and at that party last night had ever summoned a demon?

  "I made a mistake,” she said.

  "Come again, Mistress?"

  "I don't want to die."

  "You can't retract a spell such as yours. Its power rocked the very walls of our domain. I am here to escort you to the other side. I need you to leave the spirit ring and come to me."

  Alyzia's head snapped up. This thing could not penetrate the spirit ring. She had mixed powerful protection herbs into the paint and stirred it with her athame and wand. Her magic must have worked then as well.

  She looked around the ring to see if anything else might help. She saw the salad and picked up the container to see what else might be in there. Avoiding the dried blood, she picked a couple of small seed shaped bits from the bottom of the bowl.

  Blessed be, this might work, she thought and clasped the seeds over her heart and recited a Wiccan prayer for strength and protection. Although she was afraid, she faced the demon.

  "Be gone. Your position here is unintended. Be gone, or I will be forced to banish thee,” she said holding out her hand. Two peeled nettles rested on her palm.

  The shadow hissed and cowered, but it did not disappear.

  "Mistress, don't do it. I mean you no harm. I only want to grant your wish."

  "I recant my wish."

  "You can't do that. However ... I can offer you a bargain."

  Alyzia was so relieved that she did not detect the sly undertone in the shadow's voice. “What bargain?"

  "I will wait until you tell me you are ready. I will come to you each night in the hour before dawn. If you are outside your spirit ring, I will know you are ready; otherwise, I will not take you. For you, Mistress, I will wait."

  Alyzia thought for a moment. The last vestige of Alice was horrified at the thought of making a deal with a demon. She had gone to Sunday school and said her prayers every night before bed. However, the sudden feeling of power entranced Alyzia.

  "What if I get hit by a car or shot by some crazy person?"

  "Mistress, you have chosen the manner of your passing. You are free from the curse of death unless you are personally escorted to the other side."

  Shit, I'm immortal? No fucking way. But, what have I got to lose?

  "Deal. You leave me alone every other minute of the day, but in the hour before dawn, we can discuss many things. If I choose to execute my wish, I will break my ring."

  With her last statement, the streetlights clicked off as the first light of dawn penetrated her windows.

  "By your leave, Mistress.” With that, the shadow slowly faded until the wall was blank.

  Alyzia fell back into her bed with a sigh, her mind reeling from what had just happened. However, with the initial adrenalin expended, the dope still in her system overwhelmed her and she slept.

  She awoke after noon. Her studio was hot and stuffy, and her head ached from a Seconal™ hangover. After a shower and some coffee, the events of the morning came back to her.

  It had to be a dream. It had to be, she thought, washing the disgusting clotted salad down the garbage disposal. As the salad disappeared down the drain, something in the back of her head disagreed with her.

  She decided that she needed to talk to someone. The woman at the herb shop seemed wise and pleasant. Before she could talk herself out of it, Alyzia was out the door.

  * * * *

  The brass bells over the door tinkled as she entered the sweet-smelling shop. The owner looked up from her book and smiled.

  "Um, hello. Could I ask you something?"

  "Blessed be, child, come closer. Don't be shy."

  "I have a question about herbs and spells."

  "That would be why I am here—unless you need to rescue your spaghetti from the mundane,” she said laughing.

  "Do you have a book I could look in? A real herbal spell book, not the tourist stuff."

  The herbalist looked at her with suspicion. Without saying anything, she poured a large cup of tea from a steaming kettle and handed the cup to Alyzia. Not knowing what else to do, the young witch brought it to her lips.

  "Stop, you little fool. Know you nothing? Swirl the cup and return it to me."

  "What?” Alyzia asked. She did feel like a fool; however, she did what the woman told her to do.

  The herbalist surprised Alyzia by turning and dumping the contents into a small sink behind her. She said nothing as she looked intently into the cup.

  "You have a problem, young lady.” Her voice was serious.

  "How do you know?"

  "Your tea leaves. Would you like to know exactly what I see?"

  "Not really."

  "Tell me what you did. Don't leave out a word."

  Alyzia complied. As she told the story, the herb woman looked more and more serious. Alyzia stopped short of telling her about the shadow on the wall.

  "You summoned something, didn't you?"

  Alyzia knew she could not lie. She nodded.

  "I don't want to know exactly what. However, since you are here, you must have at least temporarily outwitted it. You are here looking for protection?"

  Alyzia was too embarrassed to say she had made a deal with the shadow. Instead, she nodded again.

  "I doubt you have the skill to banish it. However, I can help you reinforce your spirit ring. That's all I can do."

  Twenty minutes later, Alyzia left the shop with several bags of herbs and a sheet of instructions. She followed the instructions to the letter. The herb woman had dispelled her rational story of “just a dream.” Inside her fortified spirit ring, she clutched her protection charm and vowed to stay awake until dawn. However, even a pot of coffee could not ward off the fatigue and stress of the day and she soon drifted off to sleep.

  "Mistresss..."

  The hissing voice brought her upright.

  "I see you are in your ring. As you wish, I will honor our bargain. I will stay with you until dawn in case you change your mind."

  Alyzia stared in horror at the wall until the sunlight again banished her visitor.

  * * * *

  Days turned into weeks and Alyzia's life settled into a pattern. Every night, she slept until the familiar voice brought her around. After a while, he ceased to frighten her. She even prompted a few stories out of him and surprised herself by laughing at his strange humor.

  Alyzia realized the demon was serious; until she called him, she was not going to die. She, Alyzia Anubis of the Moonflower Coven, had summoned the Demon of Death, made a deal with him, and made friends with him. She was not just bad, she was ever loving, fucking-A bad.

  It was time to visit the vampires; she would show them her fucking invitation.

  Alyzia dressed in her Gothic best. She dyed her hair black and added a single crimson strip. For my severed lifeline, she thought. The cut had healed cleanly, but she had a scar that bisected all the lines in her palm. She liked it; it looked wicked.

  Tucking her athame into her sash, she took one last look in the mirror. Several weeks of a steady diet of coffee and stress had left her as thin and white as a flash of lightning. She accentuated it with a slinky black dress and scarlet lips. She had also added a new tattoo in the shape of her shadow demon. Satisfied, she closed the windows and locked the door.

  Alyzia hesitated at the door of The Demetrius Club. She could hear the party inside and for a minute, she was the pathetic little loser of a few weeks ago. She looked at her new tattoo, took strength, and knocked on the door.

  A man in a snow white ruffled shirt and satin breeches opened the door. He had horns affixed to his forehead and wore prosthetic fangs. He bowed and spoke,

  "Although lovely may you be, you must correctly answer
me.

  When north to south, finite I be, from east to west, infinity.

  Speak you now, or leave this place, never more to show your face."

  Alyzia smiled what she hoped was her best evil smile. “Be gone, you riddling fool. I have business with Custus,” she said, pushing past him.

  "Hey!"

  She pulled the [BLADE] from her sash and held it waist high. “One step closer and you'll be rhyming in soprano."

  He looked in her eyes and did not like what he saw. “Fuck off, bitch. It'll be fun to watch Custus flay you. This way, M'lady,” he said with a mock flourish.

  She followed him down the hall. In rooms on either side, the party raged in full force. Costumes ranged from Elvira to Anne Rice. In her new perception, she saw them for what they were: pathetic game-players. However, the salon was the center of the city's underground society; she needed to make a place here.

  The horned doorman stopped in front of a French door. He knocked a code and waited for an answer.

  "Enter."

  He opened the doors and bowed. “Master Custus, someone to see you. She was quite ... insistent."

  "Very well, let the wench in.” The voice sounded amused.

  "Don't expect me to call 911,” the doorman whispered as she walked past him.

  Alyzia heard the door close behind her. The room was beautiful, like a salon of Versailles. People sat in small groups on silk settees, elegant Regency chairs, or big throw pillows on the floor. Most wore outfits that looked like they had come from France before the Revolution.

  "Custus?"

  A tall, thin man stood and walked to her. He was gaunt and pale with beautiful brown eyes. Those eyes caught hers and she lost her breath. When he smiled, she caught sight of his very well done fangs. If she did not know better, she would suspect they were real.

  "What is it? You have me at a disadvantage: you know my name, but I don't know yours."

  "It's Aly...” She faltered. “Alyzia” was the name of the pathetic hanger-on with four-color hair and a discount magic wand. That loser died in a spirit circle several weeks ago. She was new. She was reborn. She was...