Jacks Windfall 7

Jack ran to the road, crossed it, and went to the sidewalk. There was a way to do all this in time. He pulled out a piece of chalk, and started to trace a rather unique sigil. Rather than the symbol of one of the spirits in his book, but rather the spirit of Rochester itself. He couldn’t summon such a being, but he could open a Gate.

The realm of the Spirits and the Human realm are separated by an Immaterial Veil. In certain places, this Veil was as thin as gauze. Using this sigil, he could temporarily open a passage through, but there was a danger. While it would be much faster, he would be far more vulnerable to spiritual attacks like before. Without a car, though, he didn’t have a choice. A quick channel of energy through the runes, and he was through.

The Spirit Realm of Rochester was a labyrinth of wood and brick. Any structure built, remembered, or imagined by humanity had a place there. He ran down cobblestone, and turned into an alley to a forest path that used to be there before. Farmhouses combine with cabins and tents to make dense walls that towered over him. From the tops, he could feel the Urban spirits watching him run through their domain. He felt aggression as he ran, and dodged to the side before a massive strike of a chain slammed near him.

The Dark spirit from before was in pursuit of him. Jack cursed under his breath, and ran to the nearest door. His mind rapidly went through the list of possible types it could be, Ghoul, or maybe a Manitou? He darted through and entered the chaos of the architecture, constantly shifting through decades of styles. As soon as there was a staircase, he darted up to the second floor. A sky bridge manifested, allowing him to go through to the next building as he could hear the walls shatter.

Jack reached into his pocket for the knife, only to find it missing. “Really, Prince? I only used it twice!!” , he shouted. Well, that was the price of using a spirits power. He shook his head and kept running. He could hear the manitou get closer. This was it’s realm, and it could move through easier than he could. He pushed back his sleeves.

When he fought the Dark Spirit Maquatl, the spirit’s control over glass was formidable. It was like he was stuck in a tornado of broken windows and beer bottles. It actually sliced through some of the tendons in his left hand, and worse cut through several of his tattoos. He had some control over elementals, like any wizard, but if he used their power too much he couldn’t protect himself from them. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and he once again channeled the powers of flame.

Both of his hands now burst in flames, pushing him through the endless hallways. To his left and right were two spirits of flame, dog sized elementals called Salamanders. They kept pace with him, leaving twin trails of fire behind. Jack risked a look behind and could see the dark spirit trying to back away from all of the heat, it’s body glistening and glowing. Jack stopped at a door, and sent the two Salamanders out to keep his pursuer occupied.

He pulled out chalk again, and began tracing the inverse of the first sigil. When he was done, he opened the door to a mausoleum. He looked through, and realized he was at the Mount Hope Cemetery! He took one last look behind to see the salamanders fighting the dark spirit, and then closed the door behind him.

Jack ran to Jennifer’s grave. He pulled out the envelope and began pulling the sod up, placing the dirt in the same relative location as Harold. Looking at his smoldering sleeves, Jack breathed in the smoke. He shouted Jennifer’s name 3 times, and invited her to his home as well. He then ran to one of the gates. Looking around, he realized that hours were spent in the Spirit Realm, less than if he had run or used public transportation, but still. He couldn’t risk going back through without missing the deadline. Fortunately, he had a final option.

He ran to the nearest bus stop, ignoring the mass of people that were looking at him like he was insane. They wouldn’t remember his face anyway. He held up an old bus pass, covered in sigils. Soon, an older bus pulled over. Its door opened, and he climbed in. Fortunately, his apartment was on this line. So, finally taking a moment to breathe, he examined his hands.

Jack realized he had some second degree burns on his forearms, and his hands were blistered. They were numb, but as he flexed his fingers Jack could feel the cracking of his joints. While he wouldn’t feel it now, it was going to hurt like hell tomorrow. He checked the time. 11:00 PM. He still had some time. He then realized why he got that much money. “I have to buy a new car?” He muttered under his breath.

Wincing as he pushed the button to stop the bus, he walked to his apartment, considering his next steps. He had left his supplies in the car when it was destroyed, but he may still have the basics for his final rituals tonight. The Manitou following him, however, might be a further hindrance. He entered his apartment, and began to arrange some large mirrors. He traced sigils on them, and could see that his guests were arriving.

The mirror to his left soon had Jennifer appear in it, and to the right, Harold. As Jack finished tracing the sigil in the middle mirror, he could see the door smash open. The hallway was filled with the same mist as before, and as the Manitou attempted to push its way in it seeped into Jack’s modest apartment. Most spirits couldn’t enter without being invited, but as a spirit of corruption it was trying to destroy the threshold of the home itself.

Jack spun around, and stared at the Dark Spirit. He could feel Manitou’s efforts to break in. While it will use up a great deal of power, it would be able to devour him and the two spirits to replenish itself. Jack smiled, for it was too late for his pursuer. He then gestured at the table next to him, with an egg, a bottle of 10 year whiskey, a blue soda can and a library book. They were arranged in a circle, with the two envelopes that had the soil from the graves within. He smiled. “I figured you would follow me. Which is good, because any marriage needs two witnesses.” He sits down and pulls out a styrofoam cup full of coins. “I just needed to invite the final guest.”

As he spins the coins, he could hear the mirror behind him smashed open. The Dark Spirit seemed to have a disconcerting look in its face as The Wretch leaped over Jack’s head. Its many coats opened, and multiple scarves and sleeves wrapped around the Manitou. While the Manitou is a fusion of multiple spirits, it still began as a ghost. As such, a psychopomp like The Wretch would be able to dominate it. Jack could hear the squeals of metal mix with the grinding of bones. The Wretch soon stood up again, its coats sealing over the hefty bulge of the dark spirit.

Jack knelt to the dark psychopomp. “I thank you, great spirit. I ask you to bless the union of these two spirits and safely return them to the afterlife.” The Wretch nods, and walks past him. Jack watched as The Wretch held out its hands. Jennifer and Harold, looking more human than before, reached out to grasp them. Hands clasped together, The Wretch then joined the couples’ hands, and then guided them through the central mirror.

The glass from the shattered mirror reassembles, and fuses back together behind them. As it does, Jack smiles as the mist from the hallway gets sucked into it. He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. As he opened them, a sudden motion in the mirror caught his eye.

Maggie Cross stands there in casual clothes, her face pale with a cellphone in her hand. Her eyes were wide with shock. Jack was almost as shocked, and looked around at all of his ritual items on his table. She was the first to speak.

“Uh, hi neighbor? I take it you found your horse?”