Carteris
By Dan Stein

          Lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply Jonothan Carteris turned around, and saw that Bailey was standing on the grave the magus had come to visit. Carteris forced himself not to act startled. He figured he should be used to this kind of thing by now, and it was never a good idea to let the dead know they had you intimidated. Carteris knew that from experience. “How’s it going Bailey-boy?” Carteris spoke, exhaling the stale smoke he’d taken in moments before.

          Bailey glanced around the cemetery he and Carteris stood in. It was night, and very dark. Almost all light was obscured by the clouds that loomed overhead, full of the promise of rain and regeneration. The graveyard itself was unremarkable, just the standard stones and statues. Once you’d seen one, you’d seen ‘em all, Carteris had always said.

          “Jon, what the hell happened?” Bailey’s voice was disembodied; an odd echo accompanied it. “How did I get here?”

          “You’re dead Bailey. You have been for quite awhile,” Carteris answered his best friend, running a tired hand over his balding head. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d decided to come to Bailey’s grave tonight. He’d never gained full understanding of his premonitions. But he had learned not to ignore them, ever since the Gulf War. Carteris had hoped an actual appearance from Bailey’s ghost wouldn’t happen, but he was prepared to deal with it, if what he suspected was true.

          “What?!” Bailey exclaimed; his misty features turned upward in surprise. “You’re nuts, Carteris. I’m right here!” To prove his point Bailey tried to move forward reaching to grasp Carteris’ trenchcoat. His face grew frustrated as he found he couldn’t move any farther toward Carteris. He was bound to his grave apparently. “Why can’t I move?”

          “Told ya, Bailey, you’re dead. I’m not too sure about why you’re here now though.” Carteris pulled the bag he’d been carrying out of his coat. Inside was the item he’d known to bring. Fuck, I hope it doesn’t come to that, he thought.

          “How did I die, Carteris?” Bailey nearly screamed, drowning out the incessant noise of the crickets momentarily.

          “I killed you, Bailey,” Carteris confessed, observing the ghost’s reaction carefully.

          “You killed me? Why would you do that? You’re my best friend!” Bailey’s voice had taken on a tone of full-fledged panic now.

          That much was true. Bailey had been his best friend for most of his adult life, ever since they’d served together at Fort Bragg when they were both fresh out of boot. Carteris hadn’t wanted to kill him. It had been necessary though; just as tonight was necessary.

          “What’s the last thing you remember?” Carteris asked. He’d never been sure how much Bailey had actually been aware of. Now was his opportunity to find out, all these years later.

          “Me, Shelly, and Brandon had just gotten home from our vacation to Huntington. That was what, 89? God, you look a lot older now, Carteris. How long has it been?” Bailey seemed much calmer than he had in 92, the year Carteris had killed him. Maybe the item in his bag wouldn’t be necessary after all.

          “It’s 2004, Bailey. Are you sure you don’t remember anything past that?” Carteris wanted to believe him, that it was Bailey, he really did. It would make the night much easier. It would also alleviate Carteris’ conscience significantly.

          “No,” Bailey said. Is that a twinkle in Bailey’s eye or am I imagining it? Carteris wondered. Please let me be imagining it. Shit. “Was that when you killed me? That night?!”

          Carteris debated how much further he should go with this. Would talking to Bailey really make any difference? Maybe not to Bailey, but Carteris couldn’t bring himself to end the conversation there. For twelve years there had been that doubt about what he’d done. He’d been so inexperienced as a magus when he’d killed Bailey. Everything had been so fresh then, so new. He’d barely gotten back from the Gulf. Barely known what he was actually capable of. He now had a chance to find out for sure if he’d been right. And that was an opportunity he could not-would not-miss. “No. I killed you three years after that.”

          “I don’t understand. Why don’t I remember any of those three years?” Is that a slight smile creeping at the edges of Bailey’s lips? Carteris wondered. Fuck. Don’t get paranoid. You can’t be sure yet. Just keep a firm grip on the bag, old man.

          “Because you weren’t you during those three years.”

          “Then what was I, Carteris, if not me?” There was that twinkle in his eyes again. A twinkle that told Carteris far more than he wanted to know. This wasn’t Bailey. Or it wasn’t only Bailey. He’d been right after all. This time Carteris couldn’t ignore it. He made his play.

          “I think you know perfectly well what you were, Bailey. I think you were then what you are now, something less than human. For all I know, Bailey, you might have actually died that night in 89, but your body went on being used by something else. Or you were transformed. But anyway, that’s really not important, and I think you realize that as well as I do. So why not give up this bullshit game?”

          Bailey’s features grew darker, he smiled fully now, feral and malicious. His wispy brows drew together and the eyes underneath glowed an unnatural blue. “Fine then, Carteris. You seem to know that the real Bailey’s been gone for awhile now. I took his mind, his memories. I’ve known all along that it was you who killed me. Well, killed this body anyway. I have to admit, that seriously set me back. I’d racked up quite a death count before you came along. I’ve waited twelve years to get back in the game. Of course, you instinctually knew something had happened to Bailey then. You reacted the only way you knew how. You were still more of a soldier than a magus then. But now you’ve gotten so used to following your premonitions you never bothered to think that the pull to show up here tonight may not have just been another of your fucking ‘feelings’. Did you ever think that maybe I had regained enough power to put those thoughts in your head? I bet it never even crossed your mind. Up until tonight, you’d thought it was all over when you killed Bailey didn’t you? Hell, you weren’t even sure I was in here with him. So, out of curiosity, what did you think you were coming out here for?”

          “To give my best friend peace. I may not have had the guts until now. I may not have known for sure if what I did twelve years ago was right. But when I heard your call I had an idea this was what it was going to come down to,” Carteris replied quietly and stubbed his cigarette out on the ground. “Like you said, demon, I’ve come to rely on my premonitions. I’ve also learned to tell the difference between them and a suggestion put there by someone else. Seriously, did you think I’d been idle for twelve years? Nope, I’ve been learning all kinds of good tricks for dealing with your kind. You were the first, but you damn well aren’t the last.”

          The demon that had destroyed his best friend lunged forward, dropping the farce that it was bound to Bailey’s grave anymore. “You’re my next fucking vessel now, magus!” It yelled.

          Before it could reach him, Carteris tore the powder he’d made earlier that night from his bag. It was an old magic, one that he’d used against plenty of demons and other evil spirits. The powder itself wasn’t important. It was the imbuing of certain energies that gave it its potency against dark forces. In this particular case, the powder was physically nothing more than flour. Spiritually though, it held the power of an elemental of light.

          He flung it into the apparition, who screamed in pain as the dust mixed with its ethereal form. As Carteris watched, the apparition began to split in two, white light dividing it from the inside out. One form remained looking like Bailey; the other was a foul, horrid thing. Thorny and misshapen, it had a sickly green tinge to its form. It was no more solid than Bailey’s ghost, but it seemed to absorb light to make itself look denser. Slowly the white light pushed away its darkness, while Bailey separated from the demon. It screamed a deep, gravelly cry, its voice mixing with Bailey’s as the two were torn away from each other. Seperated from the demon, Bailey’s ghost smiled a sad thanks to Carteris and disappeared to whatever reward he had coming. The demon, no longer tied to the Earthly plane by Bailey’s soul, screamed in rage and vanished as the white light overtook it. It wasn’t dead. It was notoriously difficult to actually destroy a spiritual creature, but it was safely confined to Hell once again.

          Carteris smiled, relief washing over him. He was glad to finally know for sure. For three years, the demon, in Bailey’s body had been torturing and murdering people clandestinely. The official body count was twenty-two men, women, and children. Carteris had followed his instincts and burgeoning magic skill to find the killer, but he’d been so shocked when he’d found Bailey standing over the bloodied corpses that could barely be identified as his wife, Shelly and his son, Brandon that he’d forgotten magic completely and simply shot Bailey in the head, not properly exorcising the demon. He’d left Bailey’s soul tied to thing for twelve years while he’d developed his own abilities. For twelve years, it had plagued his mind. He’d never been fully sure if Bailey had just gone insane and Carteris had murdered him. Now he knew for sure. It had been a demon as he’d suspected all along. He was no murderer. Now, he could get on with his work with a clear conscience. Carteris adjusted his trenchcoat, placing the bag back in the hidden interior pocket and left the graveyard, already mentally preparing for the next hunt.