|The Lefthanded Path
Author: Dr. Cupcake PM
Someone from Jack's past catches up with him, and it's up to Micki and Ryan to save him not only from the outside threat but also from himself.Rated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural - Chapters: 4 - Words: 5,154 - Reviews: 5 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 04-26-08 - Published: 04-14-08 - id: 4197346
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
He heard the laugh from far away, but recognized it immediately.
"William? Is that you?"
The laughter rippled against the moonlit night before he spoke softly. "You should have combined your powers with mine, Jack. We could have controlled so many of the dark lord's deeds together."
"Why, William? Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want to show you once and for all who the stronger brother is, Jack. You never did give me enough credit."
"Billy……..please don't do this."
William smiled benignly before stabbing the wax figurine with another sharp pin. Jack winced in pain. He sprinkled a black cloth with a white powder and wrapped the wax figure with it. "May the power of hell hold you tightly in its grip; no manner of white magick will be able to penetrate this anointed cloak."
The younger Marshak lit a match. "Burn with fever, Jack. Burn under the powers of hell."
William held the flame close to the figure and watched as the wax began to melt."
Micki stirred in her sleep and wearily shifted positions in the chair by the bed. She awoke slowly, becoming aware of the disturbing moaning nearby. Her eyes snapped open and she saw Jack tossing on the bed in pain. She moved to the edge of the bed, putting her hand across his forehead.
"Oh Jack, you're burning up….." She grabbed the cloth out of the bowl of cold water, wrung it out and wiped her friend's face with it. "Shhh…….easy."
Remembering what had calmed him earlier, Micki lifted Marshak into her arms and held him close; but unlike before, his fever continued to burn and he cried softly in pain. Gently lying him back down, Micki went to Ryan's room shaking his shoulder.
"Ryan, wake up!"
"Wh-what is it?"
"It's Jack……something's happening with him again."
Ryan quickly arose and followed his cousin into the other room. The two of them physically enclosed Jack between them, hoping to once again block out whatever was harming him.
Marshak's voice was tight with pain, "Micki…….Ryan……"
Dallion rubbed his hand soothingly over the old man's back. "Calm down, Jack, we're right here with you."
"The dream," the older man whispered, "the dream….."
"What dream, Jack?" Ryan asked gently.
"Black magick, it has to be him. I saw him in the dream," Marshak whispered before leaning heavily against his two friends, unconscious.
"Ryan," Micki said, "it's not helping this time. He's succumbing to whatever's got him."
"What did he mean 'it has to be him,' I wonder."
"I don't know," Micki said frantically, "but we need to do something, Ryan. We've got to help him."
"I know," Dallion agreed, pulling Marshak back to lean against him, "but what do we do? We don't even know what's got him or where it's coming from. Hell Micki, we don't even have a clue of where to start looking."
Foster wiped Marshak's face down again with the cool cloth. "We need to rouse him, Ryan, and see if we can get him to tell us about this dream he was talking about."
"But it's just a dream; a nightmare brought on by the fever, what good will it do us?"
Micki shook her head. "You know Jack's sensitivity to the occult; I doubt it was just a dream from the fever."
"He mentioned black magick……You were able to help me when I was up against it."
"Yes," Micki agreed, "but I had Gareth and Jack to guide me. I don't know what to do on my own."
"Don't we still have Gareth's book around here somewhere?"
"Yes," Micki said as she rose, "it's downstairs on the shelves. Keep an eye on Jack and I'll see if I can find it."
Ryan watched his cousin leave the room and he adjusted Jack's head more comfortably against his shoulder. "Stay with us, Jack. We'll find a way to help you, I promise."
Micki was reading through the section of Gareth's book about protection against Black Magick when she heard the noise at the front door of the shop. She walked to the front door.
"Who's there?" She demanded.
But there was no answer. Micki unlocked and opened the front door and screamed at the sight which greeted her: nailed to the door was a bloody, dead chicken and tied to one of its feet was a ring that was exactly like the one Jack wore.