Chapter Text
Martin steeps his tea, stirring the loose contents around the cup with one hand while the other bookmarks the page in his herb index. The faint floral smell from the blend floods his nose lemon, lavender, and rose. He’s hoping that there’s enough relaxation in the brew to calm his nerves.
He closes the book, leaving the tea petals to sit in the water as he gets up and grabs his book of shadows, opening it to the last page. He runs his finger down the page and looks at its contents. The spell is written down with detailed precision in Martin’s usually legible and beautiful penmanship. But the margins are filled with scratches from another’s handwriting, he sighs looking at the last note that led the two to stop writing.
We summon Elias.
Martin goes back to nervously stirring the tea clockwise. He thinks about his energy transferring to the leaves. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he rereads the notes. The spell he was previously working on was supposed to be simple; a power binding spell. Martin had, unfortunately, been taken notice of by Jane Prentiss who’d been tormenting him with magical infestations for weeks. There’d been worms all over his flat, his plants would die unexpectedly, the works. The harassment began a few weeks after Martin started working with Jonathan Sims. But he knew the man felt guilty enough as it was to bring up the cause of her afflictions.
The tea sits long enough to be at an appropriate temperature and flavor and Martin begins to drink. He drinks with the question prominent in his mind:
Will summoning Elias, this demon, be dangerous?
He finishes the liquid, circling the cup clockwise again and focusing hard on his question. He bites his lip before looking at the mug, everything gathered in a knot toward the northern quarrent– connected. An external force causing a sense of dread.
Martin feels the anxiety forming in the pit of his stomach. He thinks yes– yes this will be dangerous.
–
Martin met Jonathan Sims after inquiring with a local magic shop, Pinhole Books, about scrying. He’d been reading tea leaves long enough to know and felt comfortable to begin working with other entities. The owner of the shop – Gerard Keay – informed Martin of a man who dabbled heavily into this sort of thing.
“Word of warning though mate, he’s a little– different,” Gerard told him after giving Martin the contact information. He thanked him and decided he’d be the judge of that himself.
Gerard was right– Jonathan Sims was a very strange individual. Martin contacted him that night through social media, informing him of his connection with Gerard Keay and his status as regular at Pinhole Books, and they ended up meeting at a coffee shop the following day. Jon was a thin man of average height, his hair was long and pulled up halfway. He wore loose fitting clothing that practically swallowed his frame. But his eyes– Martin couldn’t look away from them. They were piercing green, almost neon with how intense the color was. He had dark circles underneath them from what seemed like permanent lack of sleep, and looked at Martin with such a strong focus he almost didn’t want to make eye contact.
“J- Jonathan Sims?” Martin asked when the other man sat down, already annoyed that his stutter had come out.
“Just Jon is fine,” he told him. “You mentioned needing tools for a scrying spell?”
He spoke with a slight condescension Martin couldn’t place but attributed it to Jon’s general avoidance of people. While his gaze was intense when it was on you– he didn’t really sit still. He fidgeted with his cup filled with black coffee, looked around a lot as he spoke, and always seemed to be having a separate conversation in his head.
Martin felt the infatuation sit in almost immediately.
Him and Jon worked together a few times after that– Jon mostly helping him in the way of acquiring tools or books. He had a vast knowledge of working with other forces. He told Martin after their third encounter that he wasn’t a safe person to be around.
“I’m dangerous, Martin,” Jon insisted, handing him the obsidian infused paint he needed to complete his scrying tools. “People avoid working with me for a reason and usually there are consequences for– prolonged interaction. And I don’t think Elias likes you much but–” Jon rolled his eyes and turned his neck, a common quirk Martin learned about him– he’s talking to someone. “-- he can deal. Regardless, just please know that it isn’t safe to be around me.”
Elias. The demon Jon had made a deal with. Martin didn’t get too much information about him, other than they’d been contracted for a long time and Jon talked about him like he was always around, or at least– in Jon’s mind. But,the way he talked about him made it seem like they hated one another. When Jon was constantly shifting his gaze, Martin soon learned he was listening to whatever Elias was telling him. Jon would follow with some off handed retort under his breath.
Martin scoffed. Jon was weird certainly– most powerful magic users were all on the little eccentric side. Martin was no warlock, but he’d met enough witches to know that this world drew in an unique crowd.
“Jon, it’s fine. I promise. Plus it’s nice to have someone to talk to, you know?” Martin smiled and Jon returned the gesture.
Martin wasn't going to let the disapproval of an invisible demon keep him away.
–
As Martin and Jon continued working together, Martin’s life did get slightly more difficult. This was partly his own fault in assuming he had the power to talk to entities he had little business with. The other fault, unfortunately, was Jon’s. His deal with Elias was known throughout the outside realms and it left him a walking target for other demons and spirits. Jon was strong enough to stop it, Martin however, wasn’t.
He assured Jon that he was fine when trying to communicate a Weaver deity, and the spell worked fine. However, the use of such intense energy drew the attention of a powerful witch– Jane Prentiss. Martin tried to banish her when he first noticed her attempts at supernatural contact but clearly failed. Assuming she was really after Jon, she continued to torment Martin who eventually had to ask Jon for help.
“I told you that I was dangerous, Martin!” Jon said when Martin eventually told him about the troubles when he found silver worms covered in his tea canister that morning. They were in their usual coffee shop, sharing notes and Martin typically read Jon’s tea leaves when he asked– or if he could ever get the man to finish his tea.
“It’s my own fault, Jon. I was sloppy and–”
“No, she’s just strong,” Jon said, putting a hand to Martin’s elbow as reassurance this wasn’t his fault. Martin felt the sensation of nerves in his stomach. Jon still looked stressed.
“She is,” Martin agreed, “and I was in over my head. But– do you think we could work together? To try and bind her?”
Jon chewed his lip, taking his hand off Martin and sipping his coffee, the tea Martin brought him growing cold. He likely wouldn’t be answering any questions for Jon that day. Martin just sat across from, watching him think as he opened the page in his book of shadows.
“I think we’ll need more help,” Jon said slowly, eyes moving back and forth as he listened to the demon speaking in his head. “I think we’ll need to summon Elias.”
–
Martin knocks twice outside of Jon's flat. Normally they meet in a coffee shop or Pinhole Books, but with Elias making a corporeal appearance– Jon insisted they meet at his place.
Martin woke up that morning with even more mystical worms in his apartment from the night before. When he texted Jon about the infestation while grabbing everything he could that was infested, the man had offered for Martin to stay at his flat until they work on the banishment. His smile grew wide at the suggestion, and then the anxiety took over of needing to actually pack things while not getting attacked by worms. He was at Jon’s house within the hour.
“Just a second!” Jon yells through the door. Martin fidgets with the sleeve of his shirt as he waits. There’s a breeze in the air; leaves were already starting to change and fall and the nights were growing longer. Samhain is approaching adding a business to his frequent esoteric-aligned locations.
The influx of the crowd of people with a ~witchy aesthetic~ is another reason Martin's happy to finally meet at Jon's flat.
The creak of Jon's door interrupts Martin from his thoughts. He's instantly hit with the smell of cinnamon. Jon offers a sheepishly smile and leads Martin inside.
The place is quaint; there's a small sofa in the living room sitting up against a wall with enough space for a large black rug on the floor. Jon doesn't have a television and Martin isn't surprised. The space that isn't occupied by a couch is lined with shelves upon shelves stacked with books.
“I uh– tried to clean up a little. I haven't had a guest in a while,” Jon admits. “And ah– I uh, baked cookies?” The other man walks to a counter that separates the living room to a small kitchenette and grabs a plate full of freshly baked cookies. The cinnamon smell now makes sense.
“The flat looks great, and thank you,” Martin takes a cookie from the plate that Jon is eagerly handing him. The cookie is still warm, Martin takes a bite and is immediately hit with a brown butter and cinnamon sugar flavor. “These are– really good Jon,” he admits, already taking a second bite. Jon looks pleased as he sits the plate back on the counter.
He finishes the dessert quickly, antsy to get started on getting this spell over with. He takes the messenger bag off of his shoulder, waiting for Jon's instruction on where to set up.
Jon guides Martin back to the living room and grabs a small trunk from under the sofa. “We’ll summon him here.” He instructs.
Martin nods and sets down his bag, immediately taking out some of the supplies Jon requested for the spell.
Jon does his own preparations, grabbing oils and herbs from the shelves. He takes Martin's herbs and begins putting everything into a very intricate mortar and pestle, grinding along with an intense focus.
“Jon? Is everything okay?” Martin asks, noticing the tightness in Jon's stance as he works.
“Hm? Oh–” he looks up at Martin like he forgot he was in the room. “Yes– everything’s fine,” he assures him, going back to grinding herbs but with a bit less intensity.
Martin begins lighting candles, placing them in a circle around him and Jon.
“”I have to uh– read a statement,” Jon admits, taking a piece of paper out from his pocket.
“A statement?” Martin asks. Jon nods, unwrinkling the paper, his hands continue fidgeting with the corners.
“Yes, Elias feeds on fear. I uh– he likes when I take them directly from the subject. But sometimes I’m able to find them from the sources. Blog posts, reddit threads, things like that,” Jon explains without making eye contact. He’s embarrassed.
“Oh uh– alright?” Martin offers, unsure just what that means for Jon.
“If you want we can cast the circle, I’ll read the statement. If Elias considers it worthy enough–” Jon enunciates the words with a scoff, “--he’ll appear. Sometimes he likes to be difficult. But he knows we’ve been planning to summon him so it's likely he’ll show.”
Martin felt the dryness in his throat as Jon spoke. He knew what this meant, summoning a demon. He’s always considered himself a light magic user. Working with the other side to help with simple things– his plants growing, his intuition, work going better. And demons come with darker magics, they laugh at the rule of threefold, and they’re wildly unpredictable.
Martin read several books on demonology before this, in preparation actually to meet the creature that Jon’s bond his soul to. But even as Jon’s speaking, Martin feels the nervousness continue creeping up his body. What if he’s the reason the demon doesn’t show? What if he’s angry and hurts Jon?
“I uh–” Martin speaks, feeling the gaze of Jon’s very wide eyes. “Sorry. Can I use the restroom?”
“Sure, first door on the left,” Jon shrugs his shoulders, unbothered. Martin gets up then and runs to the bathroom. He splashes water on his face, trying to calm himself down. There’s no reason he should be this nervous when he woke up that morning knowing the plan. Then he remembers the tea leaves and sighs.
He takes a few more breaths, facing himself in the mirror and trying to affirm that Jon wouldn’t get him into something dangerous.
When Martin returns, Jon is still fidgeting with the piece of paper.
“Sorry about that,” he tells him.
“It’s quite alright if you’re nervous, Martin. In fact– it’ll probably coax Elias out more. He likes the fear. I’m no longer afraid of him. Usually just perturbed. “
“You do that a lot, you know? Talk about him like– I don’t know an annoying relative?”
Jon laughs, eyes trailing off for a second with a small smirk before looking back at Martin.
“Relative isn’t quite the relationship I’d describe–” Jon looks down at the paper again, smoothing it down. “Elias is just–” Jon rolls his eyes again “Complicated,”
Martin nods along, like he has any idea what he’s walking into.
With the circle mapped out in candles, Martin begins his usual casting, already feeling the mix of power in the room with Jon sitting in the middle. Jon’s legs are bouncing as Martin begins calling upon power and creating the space for them to summon Elias. Martin notices Jon’s fidgeting and twitching, not that he isn’t usually but now it’s constant, he isn’t trying. He looks nervous but also– excited? Like he’s prepared.
“The circle’s cast,” Martin states, Jon looks like he’s trailing into space. “I believe you have the room?”
Jon’s gaze darts right to Martin, the intensity filling Martin with a strange sense of dread.
“Right. I’m going to read the statement. They can get a little– uncomfortable for people. I’m sorry in advance.”
Martin bites his lip, trying to ignore the fact that he already feels uncomfortable. Jon clears his throat and begins to read.
Statement of Alexa Hodges regarding her experience with online yoga.
Statement Begins.
I got into practicing yoga on Youtube. I’d been trying to be a bit more active, and while walks around my neighborhood were fun, it’d been getting cold and I wanted more indoor focused workouts. I hate circuit training, so I was really after some morning zen and stretching to help start my day. I live in a more rural area not really near any sort of yoga studio, and with my concern for how committed I would keep to the practice, I settled on watching videos for the time being.
It took me a while to find a yoga channel I liked. I’d watch one instructor two or three times then switch to someone else after getting tired of something about their voice or background music. I wouldn’t say I was decent at yoga by any means, but I got a knack for the lingo and poses well enough to move to more intermediate videos. I’d been watching my morning videos for about a month before a new channel caught my eye. The woman on the title screen displayed more intricate poses than I was used to, so I thought it would be a good workout. The instructor only had a handful of videos uploaded, but there was something about the room she practiced in that kept my attention. A lot of yoga YouTubers have these zen, minimalist living rooms; but not this one. I remember thinking it was slightly odd that it looked like she was practicing in a dingy basement. God was I foolish.
Martin watches in complete awe, Jon’s channeling whatever person he’s reading from and Martin can feel the terror creeping up on his skin. He wants to look away, but he can’t. He sits there, forced not to break the circle as Jon continues.
The instructor in the video didn’t talk, she just moved fluidly throughout the screen over her unsettling background while a voice over told you when to switch poses. This was fairly common. Some individuals speak as if they are teaching in a studio, while others prefer the method of voicing over their videos. I remember thinking that the voice didn’t truly match her body, but didn’t consider that a glaring concern at first. I should have. I should have moved along to a different channel then.
There were four main videos I watched of her’s for about two weeks, feeling a sort of routine with the practice setting in. One morning, the channel had a new video pop up in my suggestions. I clicked on it and viewed it from my TV, already noticing a slightly different tone with this video from the previous ones. It was the usual voice over, but the instructor’s movements seemed.. well, off. She was rigid, like someone was pulling her on puppet strings. I tried to ignore it and just listen to the poses, but could barely get through the video without looking up and seeing if she was still moving like that. When we ended in shavasana, or as the voice over called it “corpse pose,” I immediately turned off my television.
I didn’t do yoga for a couple of days after that. I could have switched back to an older video, or found a new yoga channel altogether, but I just felt too unnerved. I did miss my morning routine though, so I tried some stretching on my own, but it just wasn’t the same without someone telling me when to transition or how long I should have even been holding the pose.
After the weekend, I got back into my routine and started looking for a new channel. My hands were shaking as I gripped the remote to find that the only videos available to play were from the previous channel I wanted to avoid. Every search for “yoga with” anyone came up blank. There were three more uploads since the one that made me uncomfortable. I took a deep breath and just decided to give the channel another try. I just tried not to watch as she moved throughout the screen, listening to the now almost robotic sounding voice over telling me to go from down to up dog.
Things were okay for about five minutes or so, until a side plank had me looking back at the screen. The body in the video looked almost gray, the movements were still rigid and unnatural. I felt a shiver roll down my spine as I fell to the floor, unable to take my eyes off of the screen. Her neck began twisting unnaturally as the eyes stayed on the screen. Her body continued to move around with jittery, uncanny movements, but still she kept watching. She didn’t blink. I screamed as I reached for the remote and turned the TV off again, unplugging it, and deciding to take a walk in the cold.
I didn’t watch TV for several days, but morbid curiosity kept creeping in my thoughts. I couldn’t have been the only person to find this channel, could I? And shouldn’t I report it to the community guidelines? I felt a sense of duty take over me during the distance from watching the video. I still didn’t want her lifeless body on my flat screen, but I thought I could handle scrolling through the comments on my phone.
I went back to the channel, clicking on the oldest video to view the metrics. The very first video only had one view, which I’m just now realizing, was me. The comments were disabled. When I tried reporting the channel through my phone, all of the links or prompts seemed to fail.
I searched the name of the channel on google and got two results: the channel itself and one Reddit thread from an inactive account. The title of the post was the channel name with the following text:
Does anyone recognize this channel? I think there’s something seriously wrong with the girl in the video. I can’t tell if it’s an ARG or what, but comments are disabled. I think… I think this Youtuber might be the corpse of a woman being moved around and filmed by someone. There’s some voice over going over the yoga poses but this woman isn’t moving right. It’s terrifying. I’m trying to link it here but it keeps ending up broken. I can’t report it and no one else seems to recognize the name. If this is fake it’s seriously some well made horror.
That post was from four years ago with two comments. One comment was from another inactive page saying that they also recognized it and couldn’t share the channel or comment on the videos, but it was posted two years ago. When looking back at the channel, it said in the profile that it was only a month old. Something horrible was happening and it seemed to only be happening to a handful of people at one time. Or the channel kept deleting itself and reappearing after one IP address grabbed it. That had to be what was happening. In my panic I barely noticed that Youtube had opened back up on my phone. Until I registered the voice over that didn’t match the decaying body on my screen. I couldn’t help but watch in terror as the body unnaturally moved around in that dimly lit basement. Finally she looked at the screen again, unmoving. She was almost completely decayed. There was a jerk in her shoulders from whatever was making her move that caused her jaw to fall to the floor. I screamed again, scrolling as fast as I could away from the channel and finally finding the “block user” button. I deleted the Youtube app.
I didn’t use social media for a week. When I finally did, everything seemed normal. I reinstalled Youtube just to be certain that the channel was blocked. The account had been deleted.
If I ever do yoga again I’ll be signing up for classes. They seem to be a bit more lively.
“Statement ends,” Jon says, coming back to himself. Martin doesn’t know what to say but he knows he didn’t like that. Jon wasn’t Jon when he was reading– he was the person it seemed. He watched him fall into a person Martin didn’t recognize, of the woman watching the videos.
“Was that– a– a true story?” Martin stammers, just now realizing his hands were shaking.
“It was,” a voice from behind him makes Martin jump nearly out of the circle. He lets out a small cry and turns his head.
Standing behind him is a demon. Martin feels the trembling in his hands.
Elias is– unfortunately beautiful. He’s dressed in a pinstripe well fitted suit and tie, with slicked back dark hair. He’s greying in a way that just looks professional and polished and deliberate. He looks fit and put together. Martin takes his gaze away from the demon for a moment to look at Jon who’s completely enamored. His intense eyes are on Elias who looks completely unbothered if not pleased from the other man’s stare.
Martin watches them watch one another and feels utterly out of place.
“Elias,” Jon says, breaking the strange intense silence “this is Martin. He’s been cursed by a woman who’s filled his apartment with worms.” Jon’s eyes don’t move away from Elias. He still sounds annoyed, the same voice he usually talks about Elias with, but his actions do not match whatever feeling his tone of voice is giving off.
“A pleasure, Martin,” Elias says, his voice is incredibly smooth. He extends his hand, finally breaking his own eye contact from Jon.
“Uh– hello,” Martin shakes the demon’s hand. Elias flashes a grin with perfectly white teeth. When they make physical contact, Martin feels afraid. Elias holds his hand for a little too long, and Martin feels the energy shift.
Elias is drinking in Martin’s fear.
“Elias,” Jon says, causing the demon to let go of Martin’s hand and look back at him. The break in contact allows for Martin to let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I made you cookies.”
“Snickerdoodle?” Elias asks with a grin. Jon nods. Martin realizes those were his offering. He feels like he should have brought in his own, feeling foolish for not thinking of that sooner.
“Martin, do you mind if we break the circle?” Jon asks.
“Oh uh– yes, sure,” he thanks the elements and moves counterclockwise to extinguish the candles. When the circle’s broken, Elias and Jon are still just staring at one another. Martin thinks they’re having some sort of mental conversation that he clearly doesn’t have the capability to be a part of. Finally, he clears his throat.
“You’re being a rude house guest, Jon,” Elias says with a smirk. Jon blinks for what Martin thinks is the first time since Elias has been summoned.
“I cleaned!” Jon retorts, moving past the extinguished candle and back to the plate of cookies Martin ate from earlier. “Take your offering and hear Martin out,” Jon orders, pushing the cookies to Elias.
The demon laughs, taking the plate and taking a bite of the cookie. He smiles widely as he chews, Jon looking like he’s hanging on edge or approval. Elias’ nods and that seems good enough for Jon to go to the couch and sit down with his legs crossed. Martin follows suit, sitting on the other side of the couch.
Elias finishes his cookie, sets the plate on Jon’s coffee table and stands in the center of the living room over both Martin and Jon.
“So do you care to fill me in your situation with Jane Prentiss?” Elias asks. Martin’s eyes are wide.
“I uh–” Martin stammers. He’s shocked Elias knows the woman’s name.
“He loves to be dramatic, Martin. Don’t let him scare you,” Jon scoffs, but his eyes don’t move away from Elias. The demon nods and extends a hand out to lightly pet Jon’s hair.
“I will say Jon isn’t– wrong necessarily. I do enjoy a bit of excitement when I’m summoned to the human realm. So forgive me. Jon informed me a bit of your predicament before calling me here. Jane Prentiss is a name I’ve heard before as well. Not really someone you want to aggravate, may I add.”
“I– clearly,” Martin says, already annoyed with himself that he can’t stop stuttering. He takes a deep breath, trying to force himself to talk.
He tells them the story of how he encountered Jane Prentiss, knowing that Elias probably knows more than he’s letting on from being in Jon’s head what seems like all the time. His eyes awkwardly shift between Jon and Elias as they predominantly look at one another. Elias stays standing, his hands are constantly on some part of Jon as Martin talks, either Jon’s hair, or cheek, shoulder. And Jon’s no better, constantly swatting Elias off of him but looking back up at up and pulling back up to him. Martin can barely get through the story, ending with how just that morning he found worms throughout his kitchen sink, bathroom, and any food source.
“I’m sorry– are you two even listening?” Martin finally asks, seeing Jon fully leaned onto Elias’ leg. The demon has moved over toward Jon, allowing him full access to lay on Elias’ thigh. Jon moves his eyes to Martin then suddenly straightens up.
“Sorry,” Jon grumbles. Elias keeps a hand possessively on Jon.
“You’ll have to forgive him, Martin,” Elias says with a smooth voice. “Jon has a difficult time keeping his focus.”
Jon responds with a scoff.
“Have you considered you’re just incredibly touchy and it’s difficult to concentrate?”
Elias just grins, squeezing lightly at Jon’s thigh. Martin suppresses the stinging in the back of his eyes.
“A banishment spell is indeed required for your situation,” Elias starts, his tone professional. “I believe that Jon is capable, just in need of some more research. I don’t know how much Jon has told you about my presence on earth, but I’m usually only able to walk in this realm for about a day. But I have faith in Jon that this problem can easily be solved. I won’t just give him the aid, he needs to do his own research and work for it.” The demon’s eyes flash back at Jon, who’s still looking widely at Elias, he’s much less nervous in the demon’s presence. Martin just sighs.
“Okay? So what, you’re just here to oversee that he actually does his work?” Martin asks, annoyed that he went through the effort and anxiety to summon a demon and isn’t even really going to help. Elias flashes another grin.
“Precisely. Jon’s not great at honing in on what he needs,” Martin watches as Jons’ wide stare turns into a glare, but he doesn’t retort.
Martin sighs; it’s going to be a long twenty four hours.