Brothers of Brimstone Book 1: Slater

MALLORY

When my eyes flew open, I was conscious and vigilant.

The room was plunged into darkness, only lit by slivers of the full moon that basked outside my window. I was alarmed to learn that I had rested much longer than anticipated.

I wanted to bolt out of bed, but though my mind was working overtime, my body remained pinned to the bed.

I attempted to turn my head, but my neck stubbornly refused to participate. I tested out other parts of my body and realized that I was in a state of complete paralysis.

My eyes were the only organ with motion. I shifted my gaze to the clock on my nightstand and began to panic as the red-illuminated numbers flashed.

It was already a quarter to midnight.

The midnight hour was the witching hour.

During the summer, we celebrated the stroke of midnight, but it was fall, the season when the devil came at midnight to collect our dues.

The magical factions knew that the world is ruled by a delicate balance: the celestial deities Helios and Luna, and Hades, god of the underworld, in Brimstone.

The factions that derive their magic from Helios and Luna pray to the skies, while those whose magic comes from the earth answer to Hades below.

Witches are expected to adhere to the laws of “As above, so below”—what happens above correlates with what happens below. If you pollute the land, the ocean is impacted.

Magic, after all, is a game of give and take.

We can only conjure that which exists—often, items belonging to somebody else. Most witches attach ethical clauses to their casts to ensure that they are not taking from someone in need, but Brimstone doesn’t take the morality of magical use into account.

Every use of magic on the earthside causes an imbalance below. Brimstone was anointed to protect that balance and to hold witches who abuse magic above accountable.

Therefore, every time a witch does something to disrupt the balance, it becomes a debt to be paid.

Silverdale, being the hub of diversity for all factions (including humans), was often overrun with Brimstone’s debt collectors during the fall season.

Since witches were opposed to paying their debts, we had devised a way to discourage debt collectors.

Debt collectors were natural accountants who couldn’t resist counting objects that they came across. To keep them occupied, we scattered mustard seeds across our thresholds.

Furthermore, the debt collectors were handsome and vain devils. For extra protection, we often left full-length mirrors on our doorsteps; if they finished their count early, they would take the time to admire their reflections.

We often turned the reflective side of the mirror away from the sun during daylight hours, because such a brilliant effect would blind innocent passers-by. And, of course, we didn’t want to attract any attention.

I managed to utter a sound as one minute passed, but I still hadn’t moved a muscle. Relieved that my vocal cords were still functioning, I released another strangled sound to express some of my frustration.

“Ah! You’re finally awake.”

My eyes darted back and forth. I had been so concerned about the debt collector coming to my door that I had not realized that I was not alone until a voice spoke from the darkness.

Though my lips remained frozen, I managed to ask, “Who is there?”

Suddenly, a creature, who could have only been concocted from nightmares, appeared above me. The monster straddled me so it could peer into my face; it was horrific.

I wanted to scream, but only a gurgling sound escaped me.

“I’m Selma, your sleep paralysis demon,” the creature introduced itself, clasping its leathery claws beneath its chin as it gazed at me with an unmistakable look of adoration.

I’d learned about sleep paralysis demons when I was in school. They were monsters known to terrorize humans, so my fear melted into confusion as I stared into the beast’s black, beady eyes.

“Aren’t you a human monster?” I mumbled.

“Yes,” Selma declared brightly. “It’s rare that we ever have the opportunity to visit a witch. You must have caught the sleep demon bug, and boy, am I glad you did. Humans never talk; they just lie there looking frightened and breathing heavily.”

She paused to brush a strand of matted hair from her face before adding, “This is a treat.”

“Perhaps they would be more conversational if they could move,” I suggested.

Though my words were garbled, Selma must have understood.

“Yes, perhaps, but I can only appear when the body is in a REM sleep state. The lack of animation is annoying but necessary for our survival. I can only imagine what those nasty humans would do if they could move.”

“They would run,” I told her.

Selma placed a sharp claw on her chin as she studied me. Her actions might have been less terrifying if her lips hadn’t been pulled back into a permanent grin that revealed rows of razor-sharp teeth.

After observing me for a moment, Selma suddenly withdrew slightly and clapped her disproportionately large hands together.

“This is fun, like having a real friend to chat with. If we are going to be friends, we should at least know each other’s names. As I told you, mine is Selma.” She paused as she waited for me to respond.

Though I was at a disadvantage, I hesitated.

There was lore surrounding the importance of words, particularly names.

Simple mispronunciation during a spell could doom the caster, and the correct information falling into the hands of the wrong entity could result in severe consequences.

Of course, I could give Selma a fake name, but there were stories about providing false information, so I was conflicted.

Before I could solve my dilemma, a bang erupted from the first floor.

My eyes darted to the bedside clock, and my heart jolted as I realized the time.

The debt collector was at my door.

Though this one was politely knocking, I knew it was only a courtesy. It would only be a matter of time before the demon would let himself in uninvited.

“Oh, phooey,” Selma complained as she climbed off me. “We were interrupted just as we were getting acquainted.”

“Boo,” I grumbled and was delighted to discover that I could move my lips.

Selma leaned over. “You are a naughty girl for entertaining guests at this hour,” she playfully scolded me as she reached out and bopped the tip of my nose with one of her claws. “You can tell me all about it when I return tomorrow night.”

Selma disappeared. A few moments later, I heard a click in the darkness as if she had exited through a door.

The slight sound was a catalyst, because suddenly, I was in complete control of my body.

I didn’t have time to be disheartened by Selma’s promise to return; I raced down the stairs where my midnight visitor continued to beat on the door relentlessly.

Though the devil needed no invitation, he needed an introduction. As long as I didn’t make his acquaintance, he couldn’t collect his debt.

I bypassed the front entry and dashed through the kitchen to escape through the back door.

I had to get to my coven; they would know what to do about Selma and the devil, whom I couldn’t discourage now that he had knocked.

I entered the kitchen and was only feet from salvation when the back door suddenly swung open.

A figure shrouded in moonlight was framed at the door. Even with the absence of light, I could see his eyes flicker with a disturbing light, reflecting the flames of Brimstone.

I watched in horror as the creature crossed my threshold.