Night's Touch

The creature stirred with the coming of night. Disoriented and confused, it wandered through the house, oblivious to the foul stench rising from the bodies piled in a careless heap in a corner of the living room floor.



Anton woke with a start. He had spent most of the last twelve hours searching for an enchantment that would allow him to summon and then control the creature his mother had raised. Rubbing his eyes, he stared at the book on the floor in front of him. If he remembered right, there had been an incantation on one of the pages that had sounded promising, but he had fallen asleep before he finished reading it.



Picking up the book, he thumbed through the pages again. Where was it? Ah! There it was.



Following the directions, he fashioned an altar from an old wooden crate and placed a photograph of his father on it, along with his father's wand and a cloak he found in his mother's closet.



Next, he found a box of salt and drew a summoning circle on the floor; then, using his own wand, he wove a strong protective spell around the circle. He added lavender, cinnamon, and wormwood to the center, as well as a sliver of wood shaved from his father's wand.



When that was done, he took a piece of chalk and drew a second protective circle on the floor a few feet away from the first.



Then, taking a deep breath, he picked up a small silver bell and spoke the necessary words.



"Wandering spirit, blood of my blood, come to me now as this bell I ring, come to me now as this bell I ring, come to me now as this bell I ring."



He waited, listening.



When nothing happened, he repeated the charm again, and then again.



In the dark house on the hill, the creature that inhabited Anthony Loken's body paused in its restless wandering. Lifting its head, it turned this way and that and then it left the house, following an invocation only it could hear.



It was coming! Anton felt the creature's nearness in the very marrow of his bones. In his hand, the wand began to vibrate.



Filled with excitement and trepidation, Anton stepped into the protective circle he had drawn, his gaze riveted on the basement door.



He heard the front door open upstairs. Footsteps moved across the floor, down the stairs, and then the creature was there, walking toward him. As soon as it stepped into the center of the summoning circle, Anton spoke the words to close the circle and bind the incantation.



The creature stood there, arms hanging at its sides, soulless eyes staring at him, waiting.



Feeling weak, Anton could only stare back. The zombie was here, called at his command. But would it do his bidding?



"Raise your right hand."



The creature stared at him a moment, then, slowly, raised its right hand.



Damn! A thrill of power ran through Anton. "Lower your hand."



Again, the creature obeyed.



Mindful of the creature watching his every move, Anton fought down a rush of exultant laughter. The creature was his to command at his will.



At last, he had the means to avenge the deaths of his mother and father.



Revenge would be his at last.