Anyone that knew Marshall Lee would know that he never really was a believer of a higher power, of anyone responsible for human existence. While he did believe in superior 'not so human' beings, as he was one, the idea of 'gods and goddesses' never really interested him. This often conflicted with Dallas' fondness for her vodou arts. Desperately, did she try to get him to understand that her deities were very much real, but the ever so stubborn elder brother would simply roll his eyes and dismiss her.
Although, truth be told, he really couldn't find any explanations for the odd things his sister could do. He just chose to ignore them for the most part. If his sister wanted to play around with her little 'gods' in his favor, why the hell not?
Which lead him to this particular occasion.
Earlier that day, Dallas had called him to tell him she had something planned. Something big, something that can greatly help Marshall further advance in his career. Of course, he could only roll his eyes while holding his phone to his head, grateful she wasn't there to see him do it. However, he decided to humor her, as always. He agreed to head over to her place to partake in whatever shenanigans Dallas had in mind.
xxx
In the basement of Dallas' voodoo shop in New Orleans, Louisiana, Marshall sat on a dark colored, gothic looking chair, slouched arrogantly as he watched Dallas trace various designs on the violet colored hardwood floor with white powder. He looked around the place, his hazel eyes flickering from the jars of herbs, dusts and what looked like bones stocked on the wall shelves, to the table on the far left with several books left opened as if they were in the middle of being studied. Beside the books, there were a handfull of makeshift figurines, all made out of corn husks. One in particular had a red X drawn on it's face. What they were used for was beyond him, but judging by the needles and pins that were set aside near the dolls, it didn't take him long to assume. The place was lit by candles, causing their shadows to bounce around the walls of the room.
'Creepy...' thought Marshall with a slight shudder, as he turned his focus back to Dallas. She was wearing a short sarong wrap around her hips, dark red in color with a black top stopping just an inch below her breasts. Her skin was painted with intricate white swirls. Her arms, legs, back, torso, every inch of her was covered in these designs. Marshall always wondered what the point of the body paint was. According to Dallas, the paint aided in the calling of her 'gods' as well as it being a way for them to know 'her body was available' for possession. He told her not to say that again around him.
"So, run this by me again," he spoke out finally, his voice causing his sister to look up from where she had traced a circle around the design she called a veve. "What exactly are you going to do? How is you drawing on the floor with flour going to help me?" He waved his hands, a bit mockingly, as he said this. His tone was just oozing with sarcasm.
Dallas gave him a bit of a glare, before she stood up from her squatting position, "This is just preparation for the big show, you d**k." He took no offence to this, it was a common thing for them to talk to one another in such a way. "These 'drawings' on the ground are for the loa. Each deity has a different veve, it allows me to channel them and bring them to our world."
As she explained the process to him, Marshall gazed at her with a raised eyebrow, giving her a look as if to say 'are you hearing yourself right now?'. "So you're going to call your little ghost, Rasputin or whatever the hell it's name is, then what?"
His sister looked like she was struggling to not snap at him. It really did irk her when no one took her religion seriously. Then again, she was talking to an atheist, she should have known that Marshall was absolutely pigheaded when it came to stuff like this. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she spoke, "I'm going to ask him for a favor. I told you I was going to do anything I can to get you what you deserve, remember?"
"Well, yeah. But I just assumed you'd show a little leg, maybe some tit or whatever to the GM and get me some quality matches," Marshall slouched a bit more in his chair, adjusting himself so that his leg was draped over the armrest of the throne and he was leaning against the other. "As for the rest, you know I can do that s**t myself. I don't need a ghost to fight my battles for me."
Dallas crossed her painted arms over her chest, "I know you can do this, Marsh. But there's nothing wrong with getting a little help from the other side." As she spoke, she proceeded to make her way towards the table with the figurines on it, grabbing a blank sheet of paper before heading over towards her sitting brother. "It's going to help you, Marsh. It's going to make things happen for you, big things. The world will be in your hands, in our hands."
Marshall watched her as she stood in front of him, noticing she included herself in whatever it was she had planned for him. He didn't mind. She was helping him get power, she was more than welcome to share his glory. She held the paper out to him, "I'm going to need something from you. Some blood, a nail clipping, maybe a hair?" As she said this, she reached out to gently grab a lock of his glorious, dark hair between her fingers. Oddly enough, Marshall didn't recoil from her like he did with anyone else. She was one of the few that was allowed to touch his hair, within reason, of course.
However, he shook his head, lightly pulling his head to the side, letting his hair slip from her fingers. "Anything but the hair." He brought his hand up to his mouth and sank his fangs deep into his palm. His own blood flowed into his mouth, trickling out of the corners of his lips before pulling his hand away, closing it into a fist for a few seconds. Opening his hand, he revealed it was now coated in red and placed it on the paper Dallas had held out to him, leaving a fresh, wet bloody handprint behind.
Dallas folded the paper in half and turned back to the circle on the floor while Marshall licked his hand clean. Oddly enough, the puncture wounds his fangs left behind where now mysteriously gone. "Now what?" Stepping into the circle, Dallas knelt on the floor in front of a lone, lit white candle, her back was towards her brother. "We begin."
He draped his arm over his stomach as he rested his head back against the chair, letting out a sigh. 'Let's just get this over with.' Marshall expected nothing in particular to happen. Just his sister claiming to speak to whatever it was she was trying to contact. He'd give it about ten minutes of just sitting around watching his sister be a schizophrenic pyromaniac before calling it quits and heading out to see what places New Orleans could offer him in booze, women and fun.
Dallas softly began to chant in whisper, in a language that was not English, while holding the bloody, folded sheet of paper inches above the flame. Slowly, she lowered a corner of the paper into the flame, letting it begin to burn. The fire that ate at the wet, bloody parts began to turn into a much darker shade of orange, almost red in color, an unnatural color for a fire. Dallas dropped the burning paper onto the floor, watching it shrivel up into ashes, still continuing her chant. Marshall couldn't make out what she was saying. Not a single word was distinguishable. For all he knew, she could have just been mumbling jibberish.
He watched as his sister reached out to grab at the bottle of rum that she had set aside for later use. Dallas popped the cork from the top, pressed her thumb against the opening half way, and sprinkled the rum all within the circle around the candle. 'What a waste,' thought Marshall, watching her splash droplets against the floor. That bottle should have been put to good use, rather than being used for this dumb 'ritual'. However, when she began to pour bits over the candle, his eyebrow raised in interest when he noticed that instead of the flame going out, it only grew higher and higher as each droplets of liquid splashed on it. 'Big woop, it's rum, nice try, Dallas.'
Suddenly, he heard Dallas gasp out loud and drop the bottle. It shattered against the floor, spilling the liquid all around her feet, causing some of the power designs to smear. However, that was the least of their worries. Marshall watched with wide eyes as his sister arched her back and let out a loud yelp. Her body contorted in ways a normal body shouldn't. Quickly, he rose from his chair and rushed to his sister's aid.
However, before he could get to her, every single candle in the room was snuffed out, leaving the two of them in complete darkness. This was getting extremely weird now, he had to admit. This he couldn't find an explanation for, despite how much he wanted to. "Dallas?" His voice called out, but he got no response. Just silence. For those few moments, the quietness was unbearable. It was too quiet. Only the sound of his breathing was heard, and he could swore he even heard his own heartbeat.
Finally, the candles had burst back into light. However, the flames were dark red, the same color that had appeared on the burning paper with his blood. The room was flooded with this crimson shade, as if someone had placed a filter over the scene. Marshall's vampiric eyes glowed due to the lighting, his gaze locked on his sister who was standing still before him, standing tall and proud. However, her back was turned towards him, he couldn't see her face. Her chanting had since stopped. He called out to her again, reaching out to place his hand on her bare shoulder.
"Dallas."
As soon as his hand made contact with her skin, Dallas whipped around and grabbed him by the throat. She caught him off guard, as he never in his right mind, expected her to come at him. Marshall's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked at what he thought would be his sister's face. Her eyes were gone. What were left were two black sockets staring back at him. Black tears seemed to be trickling down her face, staining her skin. The body paint on her had turned from white to much darker onyx color.
He went to call her name again, but the hand around his throat tightened and surprisingly enough, began to lift him up. She was always a strong one, he knew that. But this? Her lifting him clean off his feet, high into the air, with a single hand? It was obvious that whoever or whatever this was, it was NOT his sister, Dallas.
While this being held up high up off the floor by the throat, it seemed to be observing him as it simply stared at his face. However, it was hard to tell with the lack of eyes, which still disturbed him. Finally, it spoke.
"A human...but not a human," it's voice was Dallas' but it was intermixed with another voice. A much deeper voice, a man's voice. "This one is a curious one." The way it said 'this one', Marshall knew it was talking about him. He tried to speak out, but the grip on his throat prevented him from doing so. All he could muster out were slight groans and grunts.
'Dallas' or what was left of her smirked at him before hurling him back into his chair roughly, with enough force to cause the chair to slide all the way back, half way across the room, up against the wall, creating scuff marks from where the legs of the throne scratched against Dallas' hardwood floor. It wasn't everyday when a vampire would met his match when it came to strength and force. Needless to say, Marshall was speechless and that didn't include his windpipe practically being crushed.
As he sat hunched over in his chair, he held his throat in his hands, gasping in heavily as he tried to regain his breath as well as figure out what the hell was happening. Was something slipped into his drink earlier? He didn't remember taking anything willingly. Surely, this had to be a hallucination. There was no way this was happening. There was no way Dallas managed to contact one of her little 'gods'. Though, deep down, he wondered if that wasn't the case, then what was that thing standing in front of him.
He watched as the shell of his sister looked down at the wet floor where she had dropped the bottle of rum. Scattered around her feet were the bits of glass. With a wave of her hand, the pieces of glass began to twitch and shake, quickly darting to one another, taking it's shape while the liquid began to raise upwards in droplets. It was as if someone had played the bottle dropping in reverse. Within seconds, the bottle was fixed and in her hand, and filled with the dark liquid. The being brought the bottle up to Dallas' lips and took a long drink before turning it's attention on the vampire sitting quietly in his throne, watching with confused eyes.
"What does this 'not human' want with someone like me?" The voices were calm, eerily calm.
Marshall breathed in deeply one last time and straightened himself up, holding up his proud and arrogant front. However, there was hesitation in his eyes. "W-Who...are you?"
The being cocked it's head to the side, staring deep into Marshall's core with it's black, empty eyes. "Is that why it called me here? To ask of my name?" It chuckled and continued before Marshall could respond, "I've had several names, it matters not anymore," it waved Dallas' hand as it said this, almost in a dismissing way, "What I am called is not important, 'not human'."
For some reason, Marshall felt the need to offer his name, despite the being not willing to offer its own. Not to mention, he didn't like being called 'it' and 'not human'. "My name is Marshall," he stated, keeping his glowing eyes locked on Dallas and whatever it was that was inhibiting her. The red lighting of the candles gave her a demonic appearance. It was quite unsettling.
The being stared at Marshall, a grin slowly creeping on it's lips, "A 'not human' with a human name."
"Stop calling me that."
"Is it not true?" challenged the being, mocking the vampire. "Does it deny this? Does it wish to be known as 'human'?"
Marshall did not reply. Whatever this thing was sure was a smartass. "I'm ******** losing it," muttered Marshall to himself, covering his face with his hand. "This isn't happening. I'm not sitting here talking to....whatever it is you are."
The creature took another long swig of it's rum, keeping it's empty gaze on Marshall as it did so. "Then why summon me?"
"I didn't summon you!" Marshall was losing his patience with this thing. "My sister, the....body...you're using...she's the one that brought you over. I don't have anything to do with this, I'm an atheist, I don't even believe the stuff she does."
"It does not believe? So what does it think it is talking to at this very moment?" This being spoke to Marshall as if he were speaking to a child, very condescending.
Marshall kept his hunched position, keeping his face covered with his hands, "I....I don't know..." Everything was so confusing right now. He really did have no explanation other than hoping with every fiber of his being that he was just tripping balls due to some drug that was slipped into his system without knowing. "You're not supposed to be real."
The deity inside Dallas said nothing as it watched Marshall seemingly have an inner conflict with himself. It found itself very interested in this 'not human' sitting before it. Most others interacted with someone such as himself with fear, with respect, with an obvious power differential. Marshall, however, spoke to it with a rather ballsy attitude. It was impressive, the deity would think.
Marshall suddenly felt a presence very near him, causing him to look up at mysterious entity that was possessing his sister. The being held out it's bottle of rum to him, a consoling and peaceful offering. The vampire hesitated a little, but decided 'what the hell?' He reached out for the bottle and took a drink. However, he quickly regretted it. The taste was just absolutely horrible. He spewed the liquid out, spitting over the side of his chair. "What the hell? That wasn't rum!"
"Of course it is," it laughed while taking back the bottle Marshall held back out to him and took another drink for itself, downing it down with no problem what so ever.
"Tasted like s**t. What's in it?"
"Gunpowder."
Marshall simply stared at the eyeless being with a look of bewilderment. "You're messing with me....right?"
The deity simply grinned and held the bottle out over one of the candles, letting a few drops spill out over the flame, causing it to burn much, much higher than normal. Of course it wasn't kidding. Anyone that knew this deity would know that it favored rum infused with gunpowder. It seemed Dallas was very much knowledgeable in what exactly each loa favored.
"Now, I'll ask once again. Why was I brought here? Surely, not to be asked of my name, told I don't exist and definitely not to share a drink with a Not Human."
The elder Cruz sibling didn't exactly know how to go about dealing with this thing. Dallas usually dealt with things like this, with 'asking favors'. Marshall didn't ask for favors, he just took them. It seemed Marshall was about to make a deal with the devil....as ironic as that sounded with someone like him. "I....My sister....she said you can help me...us." He ran a hand through his prized hair, brushing back some locks from his handsome, stubbly face, "She says you can give us what we want. Well, give me what I want..."
The deity listened as Marshall explained himself, crossing an arm over Dallas' chest and bringing a hand up to stroke at her chin, making it seem as if it were thinking intently, "She is not wrong," it said, motioning with it's hand, "I can grant those that gain my favor anything they wish. Success, wealth, power...I can even destroy enemies. However, I do not do this for everyone and anyone."
Marshall looked disappointed. All this for nothing? He slumped down in his chair, closing his glowing eyes and placing a hand over his face once again to hide his discontent.
"But this one...there is something about it that is intriguing. I have never spoke to one that did not believe in my kind. Yet here I am, in the flesh, speaking to it" The deity was very curious about the elder Cruz, it wasn't everyday that it was asked for a favor from someone like him. It wondered what Marshall could possibly want so badly that it had to turn to something he didn't believe in for help. "What is it that it wishes?"
The vampire kept quiet, thinking over his words carefully. He had to be clever with this. This deity was obviously a smartass, one misused word and Marshall could gain something he never wanted to begin with. "I want success. I want to be successful in everything I do. I don't like failure, I can't stand it. I want things to go my way. I want to be someone a person thinks twice on going up against."
"Hmph...is that all?" the deity questioned arrogantly, "I expected something more of a challenge." It knelt down into a squatting position, keeping it's gaze on Marshall. "My favors are not out of generosity, I do require something in return."
"Well, what do you want?" Marshall asked this with hesistation and caution. This was the part he was afraid of. What did it want? His soul? He lost that long ago when he became what he was.
It remained quiet as it stared, cocking it's head to the side. It began to make Marshall feel uneasy once again, much more than he already was. "Nothing...for now," it answered finally, after a long moment of dreadful silence. "It shed blood for me, this will do for now. I do not want anything from it at this moment, however this one should be prepared. I will not forget this one and the favor it asked from me."
The dark haired male sighed in relief, thankful it didn't want anything drastic from him. He almost smiled in response, if it weren't for the sudden flash of movement. Before he knew what was happening, Dallas' possessed body standing right before him, her hands on the arm rests of the chair, her distorted face just a few inches from his own. Now he had a good view of her empty, black eye sockets and the black tears staining her pale cheeks. This was not the pretty, loving face of his sister whom he had grown accustomed to. This was the face of something unworldly and macabre.
Marshall turned his head slightly to the side, to avert his gaze as this creature's eyes (or lack of) stared holes into him. He could hear it growing and could see it sneering out of the corner of his eye. At this distance, he could see that every tooth of her's was pointed sharp. "But heed my warning. There will be a day where I return to this one. On that day, I will reveal my payment and I will take what is rightfully mine. Only then will the debt be paid. So enjoy it's fortune, Not Human. Enjoy the gifts I will give it, for if it cannot repay me, I will reap what it sows."
The vampire remained dead silent as it listened to this creature whisper and growl into his ear, feeling a cold chill run up his spine. He wondered why Dallas bothered to deal with things like this. He now understood why her religion was so feared and looked down upon. This wasn't the white magic his sister often dealt with. No, this was something much, much darker and sinister. He was frozen with fear and all he could do was nod in agreement.
"So it understands? Very good." The deity stood and took a few steps back before hurling the now empty rum bottle at the wall, shattering it to pieces once again. "I will be watching this one closely. We will met again, it should remember." Dallas' head turned upwards and her body went limp. As she felt to the ground, Marshall dashed to catch her and the candles snuffed themselves out once again, leaving the siblings in complete darkness.
A few moments later, the candles had reignited to their normal color, removing the red hue from the room. The room looked as it nothing out of the ordinary had happened, other than the broken bottle and the scuff marks on the floor from where Marshall was thrown into the chair. Marshall held his unconscious sister in his arms, tapping his hand against her check to try and revive her. Her eyes opened, and instead of the empty sockets, her hazel eyes stared groggily back at him. The areas around her eyes were still stained black, as well as the tear stains running down her cheeks. It seemed as it her mascara was running and her eyeliner was smeared, however, he didn't remember Dallas wearing any make up before this ritual took place. He could be heard breathing out in relief. "Dallas?"
"M-Marsh....w-wha...happ-..." her voice was hoarse and weak. She couldn't finish her sentence as her face suddenly twisted up in agony and her arms quickly wrapped around her midsection. A pain shot through her stomach, feeling as if someone was stabbing her with a red hot knife. She let out a loud cry, until it turned into a cough then a gurgle. Dallas struggled and squirmed against her brother's hold until he finally let go of her and allowed her to roll over onto her side, away from him, where she proceeded to vomit.
Her throat and stomach burned as she emptied out the contents of her stomach, most of it being the gunpowder infused rum that the loa that had possessed her ingested. Tears of pain ran down her cheeks as she curled up onto her side, weeping as her brother, still unnerved with the being he had interacted with earlier, simply sat by her side, gently rubbing her arm, letting her know that he was with her.
