Dark Desires

She had never prayed for death before.

Well, she had never prayed for someone else's death before and she didn’t like to think of the times she’d nearly met her own. Those days were buried like everything else.

Aisha stared at the menagerie laid out on her desk and hoped she was doing it right. At least half a dozen of her fellow classmates would have called the sight, occult. Probably twenty or more of them would have asked if she practiced Voodoo. Or if she cut up chickens in her sink and drank the blood.

"Horus," she whispered, "Give me strength."

Not just for the misery of misunderstandings she encountered every single day on campus. But for what she was about to do. The urge to stop was strong--to put everything away and rely on the police. But she stifled the fear, forced it down until all that remained was resolve. She didn’t have room for doubt, not anymore. Aiko needed her and she would do whatever it took, damn the consequences or what anybody else thought.

In her classmates’ defense, she understood how she appeared to everyone: all black clothing, punk wedges with spikes, curly afro and a collection of pagan charms hanging from her neck. That was the culture shock of attending Worthington University. Prestigious and sheltered. Affluent and uncultured. Everyone there fit into the mold except Aisha and Aiko. It was ironic, she realized, for an institution based on learning, to be so full of ignorant, uneducated people. But ignorant people were nothing new. Especially when someone was different.

They called her a witch behind her back. And based on what she was about to do, they were at least halfway right.

Aisha tried not to dwell on the tired gripes she had with her university. She’d taught herself not to care, not to feel when people stared. Not to take anything personally. It was her senior year and she'd already surrendered herself to the reality of her situation—she would never fit in. 

She looked back down upon the individual items spread across the table. Some dried boughs, a small basin of anointed water, a delicate, sharp knife. She eyed the Ibis feather in the corner, fluttering gently in the balmy night breeze from her open window. It was not from a sacred Ibis, of course, not the ones the pharaohs of old would appreciate. Those birds were an extinct species in Egypt these days. One of the many terrible things humans were responsible for. Though it was from another species of the large bird, she hoped it would be enough to appeal to the gods. To one god in particular.

"Horus the divine, king of kings," her voice was barely above a whisper, "Have mercy on me."

Stroking a finger along the head of her Horus statue and down to its pointed beak, Aisha checked that it had dried thoroughly. Already, she'd taken care to wash the statue with a warm cloth of anointed water. It glazed over the rough lines of her cheap statue, snagging the thin threads of the rag. Price didn't matter when it came to divinity. Ritual was what mattered. Respect. Remembering the gods.

That was the only good thing her mother had ever taught her and these tools were the few things of her mother’s she could actually stand to be around.

Wrapping the bare feet of her statue in cool, white linen, she found herself thankful for buying the finer fabric swatch. Horus would appreciate the softer feel on his feet. Aisha continued to wrap, demonstrating her willingness to serve him, to give of herself in return for her request. Because her life didn't matter. It never had. At least her shit life could buy something worthwhile: revenge. And answers. 

The only thing that mattered now was her intention, what was in her heart—icy wrath, wild, unchecked grief.

When she had finished dressing his sacred stone feet, Aisha poured a bit of palm oil in her hand, smoothing it over the brow and shoulders of her statue, dripping it over the cloth, running it around the disk of sun he wore on his head. She stood back once more to let the moisture dry.

Low candle wicks, coupled with the bleariness of her glassy eyes, had the room awash in more shadow than light. Aisha felt something building around her, felt like the universe knelt down to say, alright, little mortal, I'm listening. What have you come to say? She felt a tear slide down her cheek and didn't bother to wick it away. As hard as she forced herself not to feel, the tears betrayed her pain. And panic. And fear. And rage.

So she found herself roiling in stage three of her grief, ready to make a bargain. Could it still be called grief if there was no closure, no body, she wondered? People could grieve anything. A lost job. A lost object. A lost person. Even if they hadn’t been confirmed dead. So yes, she could call it grief. Her best friend was missing. And no one was trying to find her. No one gave a damn.

And Aisha knew who she was last seen with.

They know what happened to Aiko, she thought. No. They didn't just know… They were responsible for what happened to her. Aisha didn’t have to hear that much eavesdropping over the last week, to know it in her heart. She just needed to prove it.

Aisha trailed her eyes back to Aiko’s empty bed. Their small studio apartment wasn't meant for two people but the landlady was a sweet black woman in her sixties. She hadn't minded renting it out to two struggling college students as long as they kept the noise down and their rent paid.

The difference in their souls were vastly clear in the way they decorated their spaces. Aiko's side of the room was in various shades of pink and cream with Sailor Moon memorabilia everywhere. Small containers of pastel make-up, tiny stuffed bears and kittens from last year's state fair. Perfume that smelled like candy. The darkest thing she owned was a poster of The Vampire Diaries cast. Her only moody vice.

And Aisha's was the gloomy opposite side of the coin. Black sheets, black dresser, black pillows. Bare. Nothing personal. Nothing nice to look at. Aside from sigils, charms and her statues of deities, Aisha's side had nothing of character to note. It could have been anyone’s room. Did she even really live there? Outside of work and school and Aiko… did Aisha even exist? Did anyone even say her name when she wasn’t around? What difference would it make if they did? She couldn’t connect to people.  Her soul was a few shades darker than most. Was that a crime?

Sighing, Aisha let the last of her tears fall and took up the candle, dripping a few beads of wax on Horus' likeness. Then she drew the blade and pricked her thumb pad, pressing the drop of blood to his forehead, offering a blessing.

"To your reign and your everlasting rule," she chanted, moving her bloody finger to his heart, "To your wife and your children, may they help me reach you." Aisha pinched the severed skin together to bring a new bead of blood forward and she pressed it to his feet, "To your divinity and my unworthiness. I wish to bargain, almighty Horus."

Aisha felt a cold shudder of wind flare through her room. She retrieved the feather of the Ibis and stroked at her blood on the statue, "Divine ruler, I have come as a servant, to put myself at your feet, for a bond, if it is your will. Ma'at is unbalanced here. Help me right it. Lend me your hand. Or the hand of a son. Bid me your blessing. I will strike true."

The wind picked up, tossing sheets of homework paper and notes about the room. Then the unearthly breeze banked, blanketing the room in stillness once more.

Aisha smiled and sliced her next finger, to begin again. Something was listening.

Two weeks earlier

Aiko settled into the couch, her short black pixie cut framing her green eyes, and called out to Aisha, "Alright, marry, fuck, kill: Damon Salvatore, Stephan Salvatore, Klaus Michaelson. Go." Yet again, Aiko had taken over the television in their studio apartment to watch The Vampire Diaries. Aisha sighed to herself, then shouted, "I don't want to play that again, girl! No one likes the show as much as you, for gods sake! I like it but I don't love it, you know? I don't really care to marry, fuck, or kill any of them to be honest. Not enough melanin for my taste, babe."

Aisha was busy wrangling her wild curly hair into two puffs on the top of her head and damn if she wasn't having trouble getting them to match. She took out the bobby pins and unraveled the puff to try again.

"Come onnn don't be difficult, just answer!" Aiko whined in reply and Aisha could hear a plastic bag opening. Likely her bag of skittles.

"I'm too busy for this! We're leaving in thirty minutes and my hair is being fucking dumb. And don't eat my candy. Aiko. I heard you open the bag."

The silence was confirmation.

Aisha needed her hair out of the way so the tattoo artist had room to work on her neck. She wasn't exactly planning to curse the disgusting boys at Kappa Nu Tau but she wasn't exactly planning not to either. She laughed at her stupid joke. She'd see where the mood took her at the next frat party. Maybe there would be a summer miracle and those handsy jocks would have learned some fucking manners. She wasn't holding her breath though.

Aiko snapped her fingers loudly from the other room, returning Aisha to the question.

"Come on, you’re seriously making me answer?!" Aisha groaned at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, "You couldn't throw in a Tyler Lockwood or a Jeremy Gilbert?! Just to make it a bit easier?"

"First of all, Jeremy Gilbert is hot in a nerdy way. I say that all the time. You've got to break out of this bad boy phase," Aiko laughed, "Nerds are better in bed. At least, that's what I've heard. And who knows, if I can get Collin to come out of his shell..."

"You are such a liar! Quiet Collin? From Art 200? No fucking way do you have the hots for him. It's impossible. He has like two-inch-thick glasses!"

"Okay, yes, that's a set back, but as long as it's not two inches where it counts, I can get over it," she pondered seriously, " But he's funny, like really funny, when no one else is around and I accidentally fell into his lap last year when my heel broke and he smelled AMAZINGGGG. You know how a good cologne makes my knees weak?!"

Aisha peeked out of the bathroom and threw an empty water bottle straight for her friend's head, "You are so full of shit. Your hormones are just out of whack again."

"Okay, my hormones are fine! Only one of us is ‘waiting for the right one’ and that’s you,” Aiko made air quotes, “When are you going to rip off that band aid?”

Aisha sighed, “I don’t know… I mean look at me versus everyone we go to school with… no way am I finding the right guy here. It’s not like I don’t want to… but I don’t want all the stupid questions about my clothes or about my necklaces. And I damn sure don’t want anyone in my space.”

“Oh come on, what do you expect? Some dude obsessed with death, who loves horror movies and thinks pagan rituals are hot? That’s some shit you’ll only find in a chatroom just to find out he’s actually fifty and looks like a wet mop.”

“Well that just depressed the fuck outta me… thanks.”

“At least you could probably get away with how you dress,” Aiko assured, “Guys seem to think the latex thing is sexy. Probably not for the right reasons though. And I think the garters and schoolgirl skirts are fire.”

“That’s only because you wear them too. And anyway what the hell do I care about hooking up with these close-minded douches? You accept me just fine. No reason I can’t find a guy who feels the same.”

“I’m amazing, though,” Aiko laughed, “I don’t count. It’s just sex babes, like a basic human need… And anyway, when was the last time you even flirted with a guy?!”

“I get by okay?!” Aisha yelled, ducking back into the bathroom, “Change the subject!”

“Fine… fine…” Aisha could practically hear Aiko waving her hand to dismiss the topic, “So Collin right? He's a hot nerd, what do you want from me? I might actually be sapiosexual because there's like five guys in my Physics 302 class and lord, when they answer those questions in class, I legit think I might faint. The only exceptions to my hot nerd theory are the guys at Kappa Nu Tau. Now those are some abs and no brain cells. I’m cool with that too.”

Aiko laughed, twisting her Sailor Moon knee-high socks impatiently, "C'mon, what's it to be? Marry… fuck… kill...?"

Aisha huffed, annoyed that she still found a way to circle back to that. Fine! Um, Marry Damon, Fuck Klaus, Kill Stephan."

The beat of silence made Aisha cringe, knowing what was coming next, "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! You would kill Stephan? Who would do such a thing?! You're an absolute monster. He's by far the best character." She pretended to swoon into the couch cushions.

"You already knew I was going to kill Stephan, he's way too soft. Like I think he spent a solid season crying over Elena," Aisha grumbled, "Damon took it like a champ for years until she finally gave in."

Aiko erupted into a fit of giggles, "Like four seasons for sure, I'll give you that...and you're definitely a serial killer... anyone who could kill Stephan is not right in the head. Klaus is the fucking villain!"

"First of all, Klaus said he was evil from the jump. That's why I like villains, when you start evil, you can only go up from there... Okay your turn, same question," Aisha laughed, sliding one final pin into her matching hair puffs.

"Nope! Can't ask the same question twice," Aiko wagged a finger, "House rule!"

"How can you make a house rule at MY house?"

"Our house!" Aiko corrected, making a peace sign and poking out her tongue, as Aisha peered around the corner, "I don't care whose name is on the lease, it's ours. And it's definitely home."

"Yea, remember that next time I call dibs on your mom’s leftovers, kay?"

"And anyways, we need to focus on the task at hand. We're getting tattoos babe! Defiling our bodies! My mom would legit barf if she knew." She jumped down off the couch and did her happy dance. The afternoon light from the window hit her like an aura, "I still haven't decided what to get!"

"Who the fuck says defile our bodies?! Are you eighty?" Aisha snorted, filling her palm with water to re-wet her curls on the ends, "Jesus, you're goofy. Just pick something you really want. There's always going to be some asshole that calls it corny. I already know what I'm getting."

"Well, if you're so sure, what are you getting M&M? A skull? A casket? A demon chick with a pointy tail?"

"You know I fucking hate when you call me that," Aisha rolled her eyes, exiting the bathroom to grab her shoes near the bed. The silly nickname had started all the way back in high school, right after Aiko found all of Aisha's ancient occult stuff tucked in the bottom of the closet. It had been Aiko's first week of school since she transferred in the middle of Sophomore year. Aisha was used to being a loner, but the two hit it off so well, Aisha invited her over. 

And at some point, Aiko had found a cartouche and ankh, along with several large volumes on Egyptian myths. When she flipped through Aisha's notebook, she'd called her M&M, murder-mayhem, for all the things she'd written about the boys at school. Aisha had known for sure that was going to be the last time they spoke because she was twisted and Aiko wasn’t. The new girl was going to shun her just like everyone else ever had. But she didn't. The next day, Aiko was back in the same spot, asking about what everything meant and joking the whole time. They’d been inseparable ever since.

Aisha didn't actually hate the nickname, realizing she probably couldn't hate anything Aiko did. She found it kind of endearing the way her best friend's eyes lit up when she said it. Like Aisha was the badass heroine in a book. Even if she was just a loner with a bad attitude.

"Just for that, I'm not telling you what I'm getting," Aisha crossed her arms in fake outrage.

Aiko pouted then ran full speed at her, tackling Aisha into the bed, "You haveeeeee to tellllll me!"

"How the hell did my murder-mayhem end up with your rainbows and hearts?

She smiled, "Just good luck, I guess. A perfect balance."

"Alright, if you must know, nosey," Aisha pushed out from under her, "I'm getting the Eye of Horus on the back of my neck..."

“What’s that?”

“A protection charm. Keeps me safe and harms anyone who tries to harm me,” Aisha said without an ounce of doubt. Even if it wasn’t real, it was nice to have something to believe in.

"That's cool as hell. You're definitely gonna be my BFF forever right?" Aisha squirmed, peering up at Aiko with expectant eyes. Why was she asking? 

"Because I really don't feel like my hair falling out when you're pissed. Like that one movie you love,” she answered like she’d read Aisha’s mind.

"The Craft?"

Aiko fake shivered and climbed off the bed. She tugged on her shoes and waited for Aisha at the door, "Yea. C'mon, c'mon let's go, we don't want to be late!"

"Alright! Alright! I'm coming, jeez."

Thirty minutes later, Aisha was face down in a leather chair, gritting her teeth as the tattoo artist dragged the needle over her spine. The neck was a terrible idea. Truly terrible. Maybe the worst idea she'd ever had. How many nerves could one neck have? Obviously a lot. But it was too late to quit now. She hissed as he dragged across the bone to shade in the color.

"How ya doing, Ko?" Aisha called out, the sound muffling through the cushion.

"I'm alive!" she yelled back, equally muffled, "Why'd you let me get it over my shoulder blade?"

"Because we hurt together! Sisterhood and all that shit you're always saying," Aisha laughed until she felt another jolt of nerve pain up her spine, “Fuck.”

“Sorry,” the artist mumbled.

"We should get something else too, something small," Aiko insisted, "Like a friendship bracelet!"

"You were literally just complaining about the pain?! You some kind of closet masochist? You can tell me if you are, you know?”

"Stop squirming, Puffs," Aisha's artist grunted. She liked him for some odd fucking reason, even though he couldn't remember her name. Instead, he kept calling her Puffs. And Aisha wasn't even that hard of a name to remember. But for a guy with pale skin, covered in tattoos, she liked him. She wondered if he was the kind of guy who found death interesting. 

She tensed. Nope. Odds were her attraction probably just meant what it always meant: she liked things that weren't good for her. Liked things that didn’t like her. He had his hair pulled low into a messy man bun and two piercings on his eyebrow. She kept thinking about how big his junk probably was as her bent elbow kept brushing his thigh. He just gave really big vibes. Damn hormones, she thought. Maybe she did need to just rip the bandaid off like Aiko said.

"So....is that a yes?"

"Yea, whatever, I gotta stop talking or Man Bun is going to murder me," Aisha laughed.

"Man Bun?" he whispered in her ear, a little too deeply. The breath was cool against the flushed skin where he tattooed.

"Puffs?" she was a little more breathless than she would have liked. Aiko was right… it had been forever since she’d flirted.

"Fair enough, Aisha," he laughed, then got back to shredding the nerves of her neck.