Based on the prompt, “All Sins are Attempts to Fill Voids.”
The Iron Pen is an annual 24-hour short story contest sponsored by the Midwest Writing Center
https://www.mwcqc.org/
Grandma was dead, and now that she was gone, James had one week to move out.
“Dylan and I are really grateful for all you’ve done,” Amber had said to him. “But we intend to sell the house, and we can’t have someone living in it when we do. You’ve got to admit, you’ve had a pretty good deal these last few years, getting to live off Grandma June and everything. Never had to get a job, your whole lifestyle is paid for – it’s been a great free ride. You’ll get back on your feet in no time.”
Lifestyle? His savings were gone. He had spent the last six years using them to keep Grandma fed and well – it cost enough money for her medical care, and so the food budget was where cuts could be made. He had lived on her leftovers, essentially. And now he had no possessions, an impossible gap in his resume, and one week to raise the money for a new place, but Grandma hadn’t updated her will since before her stroke, so it had just been James’s bad luck.
None of them had put out any effort for Grandma. Hell, none of them had even liked her. Mom had been no-contact ever since she was old enough to leave – not that it mattered after Mom’s accident – but the other grandchildren had thought Grandma was ‘weird,’ and had stayed away as well. So it fell on James to quit his job, sell everything that couldn’t fit in half of a room (none of Grandma’s possessions could be disturbed, so he really only had use of the drawers), and spend his days feeding, clothing, toileting, medicating, and caring for any other needs Grandma might have.
Her last words, before the dementia had claimed even her voice, had been, “Don’t touch my books.”
“Well, I’m touching your books now,” James said spitefully. He stood in Grandma’s old library, a room he had only ever entered to dust when doing a deep clean. “What do you think about that?”
It was kind of a creepy room. Grandma had been part of some weird sect back in the day that was the reason why most of her family had abandoned her. Fat lot of good it did her – if she still was a member of a religious group, none of them had come to see her at all in her last few years. The loneliest centenarian ever.
He touched her books, letting his fingers run over the well-worn spines of volumes he had never really paid attention to. Old religious stuff that nobody cared about, right?
But Grandma cared about it.
The thought jarred James out of his reverie and for a moment, it felt disrespectful to her memory. Just what was he doing in here, anyway?
One of the books fell off the shelf, landing right on the spine and flopping open on the floor.
“Well, now I feel stupid,” he muttered and moved to pick up the book. “Dammit, this whole thing’s unfair.”
And then he stopped, confusion crossing his features. On the page was a strange symbol that he had seen before – an odd little circular seal that had adorned Grandma’s favorite necklace. She had even been buried wearing it. More religious garbage, but now here it was, right in front of him.
Accompanying the sigil and a poorly-drawn monster on the page was some text.
The Seventh Spirit is Aamon. He is a Marquis great in power, and most stern. He appeareth like a Wolf with a Serpent’s tail, vomiting out of his mouth flames of fire; but at the command of the Magician he putteth on the shape of a Man with Dog’s teeth beset in a head like a Raven; or else like a Man with a Raven’s head. He telleth all things Past and to Come. He procureth feuds and reconcileth controversies between friends. He governeth 40 Legions of Spirits. His Seal is this which is to be worn as aforesaid.
“Really? Cult bullshit?”
He had started to close the book when a thought popped into his mind, completely unbidden.
Why not? It meant something to Grandma. People have faith in all sorts of things.
“Whatever,” James said to himself.
Why not try it? Just once? In her memory.
Then he would waste hours and feel like an idiot.
She was very, very rich and lived to be a hundred years old. What’ve you got to lose?
James looked down at the rug at his feet and frowned, nudging it to the side to find symbols etched into the wood underneath. After removing the rug, he found the marks of Aamon’s symbol, and everything else fell into place.
He found chalk, candles, incense, and a little brass jar that he supposed counted as a ‘vessel.’ Still thinking that he felt stupid, James went to work. He traced over Grandma’s old lines to recreate Aamon’s weird symbol and meticulously placed candles all around. He even drew the little triangle that he was supposed to stand in for his own protection. And finally, he mixed the incense.
“Jasmine, sandalwood – wait, seriously? Frankincense? Really?”
At least it smelled sweet. So now, after a couple of hours’ work, he had a magical circle, a protective triangle, lit candles and incense, and it was time to see what Grandma apparently loved enough to weird out the rest of her family. James turned out the lights, leaving the darkness lit only by candlelight, and he got the book.
As James prepared to read the invocation, he realized that he could not read Latin and had no clue how to pronounce half of it. He went ahead with the English anyway.
“Aamon, Great Marquis of Hell, I call upon your wisdom and power. Appear now within this circle, and grant me reconciliation and favor, impart wisdom and knowledge, and show me the way to thy riches. I beseech thee in the name of – this whole thing is stupid. Look, if you’re out there, just show up. I don’t care anymore. My sister’s screwing me over and none of this is fair, and I feel like a damned idiot. Forget it. I give up.”
He threw the book across the room and turned around to storm out.
“Don’t leave, James. I see you, and I have heard your cry.”
James froze, his heart in his throat. The voice sounded soothing, friendly, but it was a real voice in the room with him and not just something in his head. He turned around slowly to see who or what was sharing the room with him.
The book had described Aamon as a fire-breathing wolf, but the being coiled inside the circle looked less like that and more like the strange illustration accompanying its seal. Aamon had the upper torso and front legs of a wolf, but instead of hindquarters, it stood on a long, coiled serpent’s tail. Fur gave way to feathers as its head resembled an owl, though the beak was lined with teeth and the eyes resembled no owl James had ever seen in real life before. Orbs of metal, solid gold, as cold and dead as a pair of coins.
“James Austin Jeffries, I have watched you your entire life. I have seen how much you have given to others, how hard you have worked and cared. You served my old friend, Evangeline Marguerite Thomas, and I have not forgotten.”
That voice wasn’t just soothing, it was paternal – it was the kind of voice that James had felt in his heart, the voice of the father he had never known. And this thing was speaking it.
“Don’t be afraid of my appearance,” it said. “I am Aamon. Your grandmother called upon me. Your mother rejected me. But I am here for you. You’ve been horribly mistreated – you must feel so ill-used.
It looked like a monster, but it spoke so kindly. What else could he do but talk to it?
“How do I know you’re real?”
The beak smiled. Somehow. “Do you trust the evidence of your eyes and ears?”
A tiny, quiet voice piped up in the back of James’s mind. He knew it was his own thoughts, but in his head, it sounded like Grandma.
Don’t do it! He’s a liar.
“So you’re real?” James asked. “And you served my Grandma?”
Aamon slithered in the circle, leaning up against its borders to be closer to James. “For a time, yes, I did. Until the days when she chose to forget me. When she covered my circle and closed my books. I had given her everything she desired – wealth, long life, even love – and in the end, she abandoned me. But I never forgot her, and I have watched over you your whole life. What do you need, James? What is your life missing?”
He took a step back. “I don’t know – I can’t–”
“Can’t?” Aamon asked. “Your sister is robbing you, James. You sacrificed everything for your family, and now she is throwing you out into the street. You must feel ill-used. Were you ever very close?”
He shook his head. “I–”
“Always selfless. Always loyal. Always betrayed. You never went to college because your mother needed you, but then she was gone. You put life aside so that others could live theirs, but nobody appreciates you. Nobody loves you. Nobody cares about you. I can’t imagine how you must feel right now. But I can imagine your needs.”
“This isn’t right. This can’t be real. And what happens if I listen to you? Don’t you get my soul or something?”
Another unsettling beak-grin, another gleam of candlelight on those golden eyes. And yet his words were honeyed-smooth, warm and kind. “I do not want your soul, James. Why would I ever take something so precious from you? I want to see you happy. Appreciated. The only thing I ask is that you break the circle.”
Don’t do it!
James blinked. “And let you free? Is that it?”
“It’s symbolic,” Aamon said. “Do you really think that a little chalk drawing could keep me away? That I came here because of candles and incense? Erasing it is a sign of your will and your desire.”
He hesitated. “How do I know that anything you’re promising is real?”
“I will heal your life,” Aamon said. “You won’t have to look for a new home; I can ensure that you remain here. And you never have to speak to your sister or her family again – I guarantee it. I’ll even find you love, my dear friend. I did the same for your grandmother, after all. If you listen to me, if you allow me to give freely to you, I will save you. Every feeling you’ve ever had will be justified. Every desire and every need satisfied. I will be your mentor and your companion. Your agony and your remedy. Your damnation and salvation. Your friend.”
For a moment, James thought that the candlelight cast a shadow behind Aamon, the silhouette of a shape far larger and more terrifying than the owl-snake-wolf in front of him.
It’s all a lie. He’s only showing you the shape he wants you to see. Don’t give in! Don’t do it!
“Breach the circle, and you will live out all your dreams.”
Don’t do it!
Everybody’s been unfair to me. I want what’s mine!
James stepped out of the triangle and reached out with his foot, smudging the chalk of the circle that held Aamon inside.
No!
The demon moved like a shark, escaping the circle in an instant. The candles went out, extinguishing the last light in the room, and in the complete darkness, James felt a pair of hands on his shoulders.
“I will give you all the delights of your bitter soul,” Aamon whispered into his ear. “The world is yours.”
Ignoring the tepid screams of his conscience, James smiled.