At the Behest of the Dead by Timothy W. Long

this one did. Didn’t you see the movie with Demi Moore?”
    “Jesus. ” She looked upward and then back at me. “So what? She just started talking? How come I couldn’t see anything?”
    “Because you don’t have the sight.”
    “The what?”
    “It’s something we’re born with. Some suppress it, ignore it, or walk away from it. Those of us that embrace it come into our power early in life.”
    “How the hell did I get mixed up in this?” A loud rumble down one of the boarded up passageways between the buildings interrupted her protests.
    I crouched low, fingers splayed.
    “I’d call that a clue,” I whispered.
    “I know clues, Phineas, and that was most definitely not one. That was something big and really pissed off.”
    Andrews had her gun out in a half heartbeat. It was huge in her hands but she wasn’t shaking any more. Still, I groaned at its appearance. That’s just what I needed, to have her start firing wildly in the confined space.
    “Wait here, ” I said, and I left no doubt in my voice that I didn't want her to heroically follow. She shot me a look of distaste.
    I leapt over the railing and landed in a puff of dust, which really pissed off my allergies. After holding my breath for a couple of seconds to stifle the sneeze , I reared back and let one fly. It echoed up and down the passageways like a shot.
    Then I did it again.
    Some dangerous warlock, eh?
    “Was that a spell?” Andrews said.
    “No one likes a smartass.” I muttered.
    “ But everyone loves a little ass,” she muttered back.
    I popped a vial and dipped my finger in. The residue, as the elhorh ellay evaporated, burned so badly it felt like I was going to lose my finger. With my smoking tip, I drew a glyph in the air. A nasty one that would tear through flesh. I perched it in front and walked into the dark room. There, I caught sight of a spirit in the distance and moved toward it, hands held out like a zombie as I navigated fallen bricks, crushed mortar, and worn chunks of wood that were molding to the floor.
    I had to bring out a vial of see-all and apply a smear to each eye. The world came into view , like I was staring through really amazing night vision goggles. Then I was walking through a weird backwards world, or so my corneas informed me.
    I came across great swathes of dust and upturned debris where something large had walked over this area many times.
    There was a scent in the air that reminded me of a wet animal. I sniffed at it and followed. The passageway wound one way and then the other , and after a few more twists and turns over rubble and choked side passages, I came across something that took my breath away. It was a hole into the cusp.
    I’ve mentioned the cusp before. It’s the thing that separa tes your world from the other. From the world you think you want to know about but, trust me, you don’t. After the cusp there are seven wards. That’s nothing new. Dante spoke of them centuries ago. There are a few schools of thought on his accuracy, but most think he wandered too close and possibly had some hallucinogens working in his favor. Mushrooms and other components are not the sole domain of the modern day drug user.
    The cusp is power, but it is also a prison. You can really think of it as hell. We witches and warlocks are able to touch that side for brief moments of time and channel the power for our own needs.
    I turned another debris laden corner and stepped under a low hanging roof that was sinking into the ground. Inside , I found another break in the wall and there, much to my surprise, was a blood-mire
    A blood-mire is, in its simplest form, a linking of plasma to the other side of the cusp and they were insanely rare. How one ended up here was something I should have taken straight to Salazar.
    I gasped out loud then stifled it with a grimace. When nothing leapt from a corner and tore me to shreds , I figured I was safe for now. Stepping under the broken wall then near the bubbling patch of