Guardian of the Haunted: 26

"Too late Ian!" I shot throwing my arms into the air and walked to the closet throwing around an assortment of items to Ian's bewilderment. 1

"What are you doing?!" He asked and a stack of almost brand new pink shirts sailed through him. I'd worn each once to please my mother or the other person responsible for gifting me such atrocious monstrosities to my fashion sense. 2

"Looking for something." I grunted shoving an assortment of old worn sneakers to the side of the closet floor. 3

Ian sighed frustrated with me and the fact that I had only pointed out the obvious rather then answering his question. "Let me put it this way, are you going to tell me what you're looking for?" 4

"No." I snapped standing to tear apart the top shelf. I narrowly dodged the waterfall of old clothes and books that I sent toppling down. This was the shelf designated to hold all the presents my father had sent me over the years. It was a pathetic and nothing was to my taste but I could never bring myself to just throw the stuff out. 5

I crouched down again, sifting through the mess, until I found what I was looking for. With a grin of victory I hoisted up a fairly large and fairly old book. 6

"And that is…" Ian prompted me as I tossed it on to my bed. 7

"A spell book." I replied smugly. 8

He looked at it, taking in the dusty old cover with faded writing and slight water damage. "I never pegged you for one to own a spell book. I thought you didn't believe in this type of stuff."9

"I don't, I didn't." I said flipping open the stiff pages looking for some kind of index. "My father sent it to me a couple years ago as a belated birthday/early Christmas gift. I think with this he'd actually made an effort to find something I might actually like. I'm sure my mom told him a fair share of stories about how 'his daughter' was dressing all in black and becoming a vampire or something. If anything I think that this gift was to spite my mother." I sighed, "She's always so dramatic and over exaggerates everything, she probably had him convinced I was a witch or something the way she talked about me. I was never into any of this stuff…I just liked to dress in black and had a liking of an old gothic style. Anyway, it seems old enough to be real, it might be helpful." 10

"It's probably a reproduction or something." Ian dismissed the book. 11

I grunted and turned back to the front cover, "It's legit." I snapped point to a faded but still readable string of hand written numbers marking the book into the early 1800s. 12

"It's not right!" Ian snapped. 13

I ignored him and busied myself with searching through the old pages looking for some kind of power binding spell, or maybe one of total destruction. I was desperate and would take whatever I could get. Behind me Ian fell silent. 14

A few minuets passed in a silence where I assumed we were both trying to ignore the others presences, neither of us spoke. I finally found something that seemed promising. It was a page and a half of instructions on how to bind spirits or ghouls to objects. There was also a short written in note about demons stating that they needed to be bound within an jewel or amulet as nothing else would hold them lastingly. In my head Augustus was the closest to a demon that I'd ever seen and I was going to rely on that small note to help me be rid of him. 15

I read over the spells steps with a sigh. Ian was right nothing with magic was easy. First I'd need to set up for the entrapment with involved an intricate drawing in chalk that I assumed had to be more then perfect to work correctly. That paired with a few candles and words as well as a few drops of blood should bind Augustus to the object I choose. It was sealing him within in it that would be both easier and more costly. That step required a pure blood human sacrifice. Demons were some of the most powerful entities and that meant the sacrifice would need to be almost completely drained of blood. 16

I knew I wasn't going to get out of this alive, but suddenly it didn't seem real anymore. I started to have second thoughts, but I couldn't let that monster return to full strength and unleash him on this town, my friends, or my mom. He needed to be stopped and at this point it seemed I was the only one who could do it, unless I was willing to become a murderer. 17

Without really thinking I turned to Ian for advice. Not that I was likely to use it, I was just looking for conformation. With my mouth half opened and the question half formed I tore my eyes away from the page and turned to face my empty room. All thoughts instantly changing I found my self asking for Ian rather then stating the previous questions I had formed. 18

He didn't respond, and I suddenly felt very alone. "Ian?" I asked again, louder. It may have been my imagination but I swore I heard a light sigh from out side my window. Without thinking twice about it I crawled through the window yet again. This was really becoming a habit. 19

He was out there, a foot away from the window leaning against the house, just as I'd half expected him to be. If he knew I was there he didn't show it, he was too focused on the horizon and it's image of trees cast in a dreary half light given by the cloud smothered sun. The hazy light and humidity from the rain storm my the world placid and grey but most of all wet, the scene was in all depressing. 20

I sighed, at nothing really, and dragged myself the short distance over to him. I settled next to him with only a few inches in between then I drew my knees up to my chin and wrapped my arms around my legs. We both sat in silence, watching the sun struggle to shine, kinda like our relationship. 21

"I'm sorry." It seemed like the right thing to say, although I had nothing to be sorry about, may be it was just the only thing to say. Ian didn't respond, he didn't so much as blink. "Did you hear me? I said I was sorry!" I announced it louder and turned red faced to him, he too looked at me. Without waiting for him to speak I added, "I'm not sure what I'm sorry for, but I am. I really am." 22

Something changed in his eyes as they locked on to mine as he seemed to quite literally examine my soul. They when from gleaming hatred and anger to misunderstanding and frustration. His teeth gritted and he seemed almost sad. 23

"You're not going to do it then?" He said in an fake, almost hopeful finality. 24

I shook my head miserably, "No, I still am." 25

"Why?!" He demanded with desperation that scared me. "Think about your family! You're all your mother has." 26

"Leave it to you to pin guilt with family." This argument was getting really old really fast. "I'm doing this for her. Do you really think Augustus would be docile if he was allowed to return to full power? Would he let her live, or me?" 27

His eyes searched mine a while longer, then slowly he repeated me as if he didn't really understand, "For her?" His tone snapped something into clarity for me, something I'd always known but just never paid any attention to. Ian didn't understand. He couldn't even wrap his head around the idea of self-sacrifice because he'd never in his life cared about something to the point of dying for it. 28

That sacrifice he'd made all those years before, the one that took his existence from him, was based on guilt. On a self loathing and unyielding sense of guilt and responsibility for major damage control. He'd taken the easy way out of his messed up and shameful existence back then. I know realized that above most things Ian was selfish. He'd wanted to clean his name, he cared only for himself. 29