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Cup of Demons
Christian Horror
ISBN 1-932695-24-9
“You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons
too; you cannot have a part in both the Lord’s table and the table
of demons.”
1 Corinthians 10:21
Is the inheritance Maginel received from her Great Aunt Ruby
a gift or a curse? Haunted by ancestral ghosts, plagued by demonic
creatures, Maginel flees from her home. Seeking to remove the
barrier that prevents her from marrying the man she loves, she
enters into a life and death battle for her soul.
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Reviews:
"Author Marilyn Meredith has written a creative horror with a refreshing
blend of inspiration. She keeps you wondering what her CUP OF DEMONS
are up to to the very end. I applaud her sense of creativity and
look forward to reading more from this inspiring author."
--Patricia A. Rasey, author of FACADE, KISS OF DECEIT and EYES OF BETRAYAL.
Excerpt
Prologue
Yanduchi Springs, California
"Tell me again how your mother died," the tiny
redheaded girl said as she curled up beside the old woman. Though
none of her brothers and sisters or any of her many cousins would
have anything to do with their Great Aunt Magda, she was Maginel's
favorite relative. The last of six children, Maginel had arrived
when her mother had wrongly presumed herself past childbearing.
Aunt Magda seemed to be the only person who had
time for Maginel. All the women's organizations kept her mother
busy. And her father, besides owning the local garage, was a volunteer
fireman and a member of the Lion's Club. Neither parent gave their
youngest the attention she craved.
Maginel settled herself beside Aunt Magda's softness,
comforted by the familiar spicy smell of the powder she always dusted
on her wrinkled face. The old woman rocked back and forth as she
retold the story.
"My mother was the most beautiful woman in these
hills. She had long, curly dark red hair that she wore atop her
head and pale, pale skin with just a dusting of freckles. Not only
was she beautiful, she had the gift of healing. My father was handsome.
He loved my mother with all his heart and soul but his love was
poisoned by jealousy.
"There was a man by the name of Cap Powell who took a fancy to Mother,
though she certainly didn't encourage him. But he just wouldn't
leave her alone. He was always hanging around, paying her compliments,
until my father began to suspect there was something going on between
Cap and Mother."
Maginel shivered with delicious anticipation.
Though she knew the story by heart, it thrilled her more than any
movie she'd ever seen.
Aunt Maggie rocked harder as her voice rose and
fell dramatically. "Some of the town people thought mother was a
witch. That she only used her healing power on those she favored,
letting the others die. The community was divided into those who
loved my mother, and those who feared her. There was even a bit
of foolish gossip that she'd made a pact with the devil.
"It was the summer of eighteen-eighty. Hot like
today. Cap came to our house to fetch mother. 'You're looking as
pretty as ever, Marcelene,' he said, before telling her there'd
been an accident in town. A little girl by the name of Rebecca Ferguson
had cut off her finger while playing with an ax..."
Maginel quickly brought to mind the image of
the old spinster woman, Miss Ferguson, who lived in the big white
two-story house on Main Street. Though nearly a hundred, Miss Ferguson
still walked all over town, doing errands and visiting neighbors.
Her hair was dyed brown and curled into fat sausages atop her head.
Whenever Maginel came across the bent figure she always eased near
enough to peek at the woman's index finger that had been cropped
short, just below the knuckle.
"If it hadn't been for my mother that child would
have died. The nearest doctor was in the next town, twenty miles
away. The child would have bled to death before he arrived. Mrs.
Ferguson begged mother to do something. Mother cleansed the wound,
sprinkled it with a special healing compound, and bound it with
clean bandages she'd brought from home. She left a jar of herbs
with Mrs. Ferguson to make into a drink for Rebecca to help regain
her strength and protect her against infection.
"Mrs. Ferguson paid mother with a loaf of freshly
baked bread. When mother stepped outside Cap was hanging around
waiting for her. Though she didn't want him to, he escorted her
home.
"As they slowed their horses to cross the river,
Cap grabbed mother and stole a kiss. Father, crazed with jealousy,
watched from behind a tree. Without waiting to see if his wife would
fight off the embrace, father fired his double-barreled shotgun.
He killed them both.
"When the townspeople arrived, they found my
father slumped against the bodies, dying. He'd shot himself too.
With his last breaths, he told them what had happened."
The ghastly picture of the murdered pair and
the heartbroken husband lying dead at the very spot where the bridge
now crossed the river leading to the house where Maginel's family
lived was vivid in the eight-year-old's mind.
"Where were you, Aunt Magda?" Maginel asked,
as she always did.
"My father left me at my grandmother's house.
That's where I lived until she died."
"Magda!" Maginel's mother, Katherine, stood in
the doorway, hands on her full hips, a frown puckering her round
face; her eyes reproving over the silver framed glasses that rested
on her long nose. "Are you telling Maginel that horrible story again?"
"Don't get mad at Aunt Magda, please, Mama,"
Maginel pleaded. "I asked her to tell me."
Katherine shook her head. "Magda, you were nothing
more than a toddler at the time of that tragedy. You couldn't possibly
remember what happened."
"But my grandmother told me the story over and
over, just as I've told Maginel," Aunt Magda explained. "And when
I was older, I often overheard the townspeople arguing about whether
or not my father had cause to kill my mother and Cap Powell."
"What did they think?" Maginel asked.
"They were about evenly divided. Those who thought
my mother was some sort of witch were the ones who thought she'd
gotten what she deserved. But those who thought she had a gift were
sure my mother had never given Cap any favors."
"It all happened so long ago it doesn't really
matter. It would be better if both of you forgot all about it,"
Katherine said sharply.
"I won't ever forget," Maginel whispered. Aunt
Magda nodded and smiled.
"Come along now, Maginel, its time you gave Aunt
Magda a chance to rest. You can help me set the table for supper."
Maginel knew Aunt Magda wasn't the least bit
tired. After all, she'd done nothing but look at old photograph
albums all day. But Maginel knew better than to ignore her mother;
she was expected to do what she was told. She kissed Aunt Magda's
soft, wrinkled cheek and wiggled off the sofa.
The old house had been remodeled so completely,
Marcelene would never have recognized it. Magda had given it to
her nephew on the condition that he provide her with a place to
live for the rest of her life.
As Maginel put the plates around the antique
oak table, her mother said quietly, "You must realize that your
Aunt Magda has turned a tragic event into something that seems like
a fairy tale. It would be better for all of us if she just forgot
about it. It isn't good for you to be spending so much time with
a senile old woman, you should be outside playing with children
your own age."
Maginel had heard it all before. She dared not
argue with her mother, though the retorts tumbled in her brain.
There weren't any children her own age close by, and even if there
were, she loved being with Aunt Magda.
A crash came from upstairs, followed by the sound
of breaking glass. "What on earth was that?" Her mother bustled
past her.
Maginel followed her mother's swiftly moving,
nylon encased legs as her high heels click-clicked on the polished
wood floor of the vestibule and up the curving staircase.
Glancing into the living room where her great-aunt
still rocked, Maginel was surprised by the knowing smile on the
old woman's face.
Her mother stood just inside the upstairs bathroom
with her hand clamped over her mouth. Maginel squeezed past her.
A sickening mixture of sweet, flowery, and spicy odors filled the
air, suffocating in their overwhelming strength.
An enormous claw-footed bathtub dominated the
white tiled area. Open shelves lined the wall on either side of
the mirrored medicine cabinet above the sink--shelves which usually
displayed Katherine's perfume collection.
The bottles were now scattered and broken all
over the previously immaculate floor. Pink and yellow shards littered
the sink bowl, yellow liquid ran down the drain and puddled on the
floor.
"I didn't do it," Maginel cried automatically.
"I know you didn't, you were with me. But I just
don't understand how it happened. Only an earthquake could have
caused such a mess...but I certainly didn't feel anything. It looks
all in the world like someone deliberately threw my perfume bottles
on the floor. But no one was upstairs."
Maginel knew Aunt Magda was responsible. She
didn't know how she did it, but she did know why. Aunt Magda wasn't
all that fond of Katherine, and she didn't like it when her mother
tried to come between her and Maginel. Even though Katherine tried
not to let Magda hear when she scolded Maginel, the old woman always
knew exactly what was happening. Breaking Katherine's prized perfume
bottles was Aunt Magda's way of getting back at her.
But Maginel kept her opinion to herself. She
didn't want her Aunt Magda in trouble and she doubted if her mother
would have believed her anyway.
"I'll clean up this mess after supper. Your father
will be home anytime now. Perhaps he can figure out what happened
here."
Long after Maginel had gone to bed she was awakened
by the sound of her parents talking in their bedroom next to hers.
"I'm telling you, John, it just isn't healthy for her to spend so
much time with your aunt. Magda fills her head with all those gruesome
tales about how her father killed her mother."
"Unfortunately, it's all true," her father said.
"I know. But Magda is much too preoccupied by
the whole morbid event...and I don't want her warping Maginel's
mind."
"I'll admit Aunt Magda is a bit eccentric, Katherine,
but I'm sure Maginel won't come to any harm from listening to an
old woman's tales. After all, she told them to me when I was a kid
and it didn't harm me any."
"Well...I'm not sure about that." Maginel's mother
giggled like a young girl.
"Thank you very much," her father said, with
a hint of a smile in his voice. "Now I know what you really think
of me."
"Peculiarities do run in families," Katherine
teased.
Sounding more serious, he said, "But there isn't
anything we can do, anyway. Aunt Magda gave us this house with the
understanding we'd always provide her with a home."
"I guess I didn't expect her to last this long."
"Barring accidents...and murder...the people
in my family live to a very old age."
"I'm going to have to try to spend more time
with Maginel. I don't want that crazy old woman filling our daughter's
head with strange notions. If I didn't know Magda couldn't get up
and down the stairs any longer, I'd say she was the one who broke
my perfume bottles."
Oh, oh. Maginel snuggled deeper beneath her blankets.
"I wouldn't rule her out, Katherine. Everyone
always says Aunt Magda can do the impossible."
"Now you're the one who is being foolish. That
old woman is too crippled with arthritis to have dashed upstairs
and down again before I stepped around the corner."
"She might have accomplished the deed in another
manner."
"Like how?" Katherine sounded skeptical.
"I don't know how. But what I do know is that
my mother and all her brothers and sisters have always watched their
p's and q's around Magda. Mother said it was best never to stir
her up because of what she might do to get back at you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Supposedly special gifts have been handed down
to one person in each generation. Everyone assumed Magda was the
chosen one."
"For goodness sake, John, what a bunch of superstitious
nonsense. I certainly don't believe a bit of it."
"Of course you don't." Maginel's father chuckled.
"You're much too matter-of-fact for that."
"Is that a criticism?"
"Certainly not, that's one of the reasons I was
attracted to you when we first met."
Maginel could no longer hear anything but murmurs
coming from her parent's room. She suspected they might be kissing
but she was no longer interested in them.
If what her father had said was true and gifts
were handed down from generation to generation, she wondered who
in her family had been chosen. Wouldn't it be fantastic if she were
the one? |
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