Case 18: Entry 6

According to most magical theory, a curse sort of like a photograph. It's a moment of time frozen and impressed upon some person or object. Within that moment is a conjunction of powers, some manner of doom, and the will of the caster laying the curse. Sometimes the curse in a "like calling to like" kind of way where misfortune is simply drawn to its subject, but other curses exude a kind of quasi-spiritual force that actively draws the external world into alignment. I'm pretty sure this is the second kind. Whatever the case, the important thing to know about fighting a curse is that it's not like slaying a monster so much as it's like solving a puzzle or playing a role. A curse is essentially a narrative, and the only to beat it is to do it in a way that fits into that narrative. It's like if you suddenly discovered your life was a tragic novel: the only way to avoid the tragedy would be to find the underlying conflict and create an alternative resolution.

Of course, this curse wasn't set by a gypsy woman who just wanted to be carried up a mountain. This curse was laid by a particularly nasty witch who wanted revenge on the dude who had cut his psychotic murder party short. I'm not exactly sure what role I'd need to play to break that curse. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I've got a loophole of some sort. The bindings that kept the curse at bay have probably been disintegrating since Mr. Belmonte left the mortal coil, but the whole thing didn't really snap until I examined that chimera, a fact which seems to have brought me inside the whole matter. I'm still an outsider, but I'm also an insider. And there's the fact that the curse itself has been thrown out of whack as a result of being bound up. I think I can fight this. I just need some drugs. Probably a lot of drugs.

* * * * *

I can hear the curse stirring. It's almost time.

I made a second circle within the larger one. Right now Emily is in there while I get ready. I made some symbols on my forehead using her blood in order to fool the curse's animate presence into flowing into me, and I've got the drugs ready now. The concoction is mostly peyote with a few other psychedelics mixed in. All that's left to do is take the drugs and break the outer circle.

Here goes nothing.

* * * * *

I could tell when the vision began because my mind felt suddenly clear. The active quasi-spirit latched onto me as soon as the circle was broken, and immediately my mind and spirit were drawn into that same scene that had been unfolding in my mind every time I passed out. I could still feel the drugs working on me, but I could also tell that they were no longer distorting my perception of reality. Instead, they were allowing me to perceive the curse with a sharper clarity than would otherwise be possible. And they were allowing me to be there and no die or go insane. That too.

The witch had taken up residence in the ruins of a medieval tower. The place was full of talismans and totems all arranged much like Mr. Belmonte's home, except that where Belmonte's estate had been designed to bind and ward off dark magic this place had been designed to facilitate and amplify it. There were carved skulls, stuffed ravens, stone figures with leering eyes and wide, hungry jaws. What's more, everywhere I looked it was like staring at a professional photograph. The whole thing was a work of artistry with every little detail designed to convey the meaning and intention behind the curse. It was a work of crystalline art. And I had come for the explicit purpose of smashing the whole thing to bits.

Sometimes I just love my job.

Before I was quite sure what I was doing, I pressed my hand against the wall and began to recite the Beatitudes. At the point of contact a piece of parchment unfolded, and from it spread spiderweb cracks leaking golden light. When I had finished I went and repeated the action at another spot. Before I finished the second recitation I heard the fight break out upstairs. I had just until Belmonte killed the witch to finish my work. As I finished reciting the Shema (in the original Hebrew, of course) I saw something out of the corner of my eye. When I finished I took a look around and saw nothing there. I started another recitation and this time I clearly saw...something. I don't know what it was exactly, but it scared the crap out of me. But when I finished the recitation I realized that it was just an illusion formed from a particular conjunction of lighting and furniture. Of course, this was all just an artistic representation after all. Just because something was an optical illusion didn't necessarily mean it wasn't plotting to rend the flesh from my bones.

I'm not paranoid. I promise.

Anyway, I wasn't sure I had disturbed the curse enough, so I kept on going. Just as I finished one more recitation, something--some very not illusory thing--crawled out of the shadows. It's skin was grey, and there were several gashes glowing with pale, green light, but its shape was mostly human. It lunged at me. I raised my arms in a defensive gesture and it knocked me to the floor, clawing and biting at me all the while. I might have died if I had not spent so much time studying the Belmonte family tree and the ways in which the curse had claimed them.

"In the name of Adonai," I shouted. "I rebuke you, o doom of Thomas Eckhart Belmonte."

With that, the bit of the curse's spiritual presence that had absorbed the death of Thomas Belmonte screamed and shattered into a thousand blackened shards. I had only a moment before I was attacked by another warped reflection. And then another. And another. I fought them all until a door banged open above me and Caleb Belmonte slammed Raphael Guntram against the railing of the balcony leading into the tower's second story. I slammed my hand down on the floor and began to recite Psalm 49. I didn't notice then, but I think time slowed down in the curse while I did that. I believe Caleb Belmonte tossed the witch off the balcony as I began, and he struck the ground a few moments after I finished. Perhaps it was the damage I had already done to the curse, or perhaps because it was climactic (like I said, curses are all about narrative structure and power), or perhaps it was during that fall that Raphael Guntram laid the curse. Whatever the case, I had time for the recitation. And when the witch struck the paved floor, the whole curse shattered.

I was back in the Belmonte estate, and before me I saw a vile, green shadow of Raphael Guntram writhing on the floor. I saw a cloud of something come out of his mouth, something full of tormented faces and obscene sigils. And then I saw it all collapse back into itself as the house shook with the final dying spasms of Raphael Guntram.

* * * * *

Well, the curse is lifted. Time to get back to the actual job. A lot of the inheritance was lost in the struggle, but there's still a considerable fortune left over, and I've got a good idea of the people I should be selling to. Some of the items are a bit too dangerous so I'll have to give them to the Agency. That'll come out of my commission, but at least it'll buy me some good feelings with them. I'm pretty sure I should still come out making two or three hundred thousand off these deals. Of course, quite a lot of that will go to research, materials for arcane instruments, and "investments" in new contacts. That last part is about bribes. Just in case that wasn't clear. This business does get expensive. Anyway, I think I'll take a few months off. Go on a road trip. Visit local supernatural landmarks and all that. Until the next job.