Things are looking up for Colm Avery. He faced his worst fears and came out the other side alive, if not necessarily whole. He has a new, more optimistic outlook, and is making the best of it. He has friends again. He''s leaving the house more than once a month. He even went to a party!
But things take a turn when his estranged parents track him down and enlist his help in finding Colm''s missing brother. Colm''s relationship with his father isn''t a good one, which is exacerbated by the recent upheaval in Colm''s life that he is still working through. Nevertheless, he puts his grievances aside to help his little brother Conner.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Things aren''t as simple as Colm anticipates, however. Conner''s trail leads Colm into secret societies, necromancy, grand theft and a devious plot that Colm is forced into. On top of it all, the shadow organization that runs the magical underworld is pressuring Colm to join its ranks, and is starting to suspect him (rightly so) of harboring interdimensional entities... which he learns is highly illegal. Oops.
Colm will have to juggle his family, his profession, and his illicit tendencies while trying to stay alive. Not to mention keeping the agents of the Corvus Concord in the dark about his less than clean past.
Maybe he should have stayed at home.
Book 2, Chapter 1
¡°I am so fucking nervous,¡± I said.
¡°Don¡¯t be a pussy,¡± said my best friend in a rare showing of commiseration and understanding.
I glared at Alice, which had minimal to no effect on her. Alice looks like what would happen if God couldn¡¯t decide if he wanted an Amazon or a supermodel, so he tried to do both. She is taller than most men, stronger, with athletic limbs while somehow maintaining a narrow waist despite the batshit core workouts I¡¯ve seen her do. Caramel skin, long hair styled with what I learned was a $300 haircut (¡°Are you shitting me?¡± I had exclaimed. ¡°Looking this good is expensive,¡± Alice had replied.) that framed her face in that way you find only in Hollywood or shampoo commercials. Her wide, expressive mouth was twisted in a smirk of amusement while her green eyes studied me in my discomfort. I would say she was absolutely perfect if it weren¡¯t for her slightly bent nose she had gotten from her first car crash, when she had broken it on the steering wheel¡ªwhich was then exacerbated by a certain forgettable warlock on an island last year when he used her face as a punching bag. She was wearing a large, loose gray t-shirt today, with black yoga pants and two-inch black heels. Many gold bracelets hung off each wrist, and two gold necklaces circled her throat.
All in all, she¡¯s a knockout.
I, on the other hand, look like if you took Finn Wolfhard¡¯s head, starved it, aged it up thirty years, gave it an obnoxiously big chin, and stuck it on top of Slenderman. I¡¯m tall and lanky, have hair that in certain light looks like a Muppet made of coal is growing out of the top of my head. I hadn¡¯t cut it in a while so for once it was obeying the laws of gravity and gathering around my shoulders instead of reaching in every direction at once. Despite the late September in southern California(meaning, mid to high 80s in temp), I was wearing black slacks, a long-sleeved (also black) shirt and leather gloves. I flexed my toes in my steel-toed army boots, gripped the steering wheel hard enough that I heard it creak in protest, and generally behaved like I was going to an execution.
Alice rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s just a doctor''s appointment.¡±
I didn¡¯t reply. I looked away from Alice, towards the small, nondescript building across the street from the small parking lot we were in. Just a white building with a door. No signage. Sandwiched between a liquor store and a pawn shop in east LA. I knew it was our destination only because of the push I felt on my mind, telling me to ignore the small building. A slight, if pervasive, defense. Good enough to keep most of the general public away, but not remotely strong enough to keep a practitioner at bay. In fact, it probably acted as its own kind of signage, as it was as attention-grabbing as a small neon sign.
I felt Alice shift in the passenger seat, a quick glance telling me her expression had softened. ¡°You¡¯re here for a week, right? We can reschedule for tomorrow. That way you don¡¯t have to deal with the doctor and a Martinez fiesta on the same day.¡±
My only reply was a deep inhale through my nose. I slowly relaxed my grip on the steering wheel, settling back into the seat. I rolled my shoulders as I began to chant ¡°fuck¡± under my breath, finishing with a strong ¡°FUCK IT¡± as I got out of my green nineteen ninety-two Honda Accord (Don¡¯t judge, it still runs perfectly with two hundred and fifty thousand miles on it. I had a guy in Reno redo the interior in black and green because I¡¯m a dumb ass. The only good thing to come from it was the guy swapped out my old console with a newer one with Bluetooth.) Alice got out with me and kept pace as I stalked towards the small building, pausing briefly to make sure I wasn¡¯t about to be hit by cross traffic as I jaywalked.
I stopped with my hand on the doorknob (not the handicap kind, I noted). I stood there long enough for Alice to fidget before she placed her hand on mine. ¡°We don¡¯t have to do this now,¡± she said.
¡°But I have to do it,¡± I said. ¡°If not now, soon.¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± she said.
Muttering a string of ¡°fuck¡± under my breath I gripped the doorknob and pushed.
I don¡¯t know what I was expecting, but a normal doctor¡¯s office receiving room wasn¡¯t it. Alice had described the lady as a ¡°Witch Doctor,¡± so I guess I was expecting masks, bones, dolls, Loa, needles (both medicinal and magical)¡ you know, voodoo shit. I wasn¡¯t expecting daytime TV mounted to the top corner of the room and a receptionist who looked bored out of her mind.
¡°Mr. Avery?¡± The receptionist asked, looking up from her phone. She placed it aside at my nod and beckoned me forward. I glanced at Alice who gave me an encouraging smile before crossing to one of the half-dozen chairs and getting comfortable.
I approached the counter and was handed a sign-in sheet and a medical questionnaire. My unease was slowly being subsumed by the familiarity of the process and soon I was filling out my name and things I wanted to discuss with the doctor. I crossed the room and sat next to Alice, filling the forms out on the clipboard and stubby pencil I had been provided. It became apparent after the first page that this was a normal medical questionnaire, and I assumed it was to help maintain the image of a legitimate practice.
¡°This isn¡¯t what I expected,¡± I said as I wrote.
¡°Oh?¡± Alice asked, scrolling through Tiktok on her phone.
¡°You know,¡± I said, interrupting the word I was writing to gesture at the office. ¡°I was expecting some voodoo shit.¡±
Alice looked up from her phone and gave me a confused stare.
¡°You know? Witch doctor?¡± I explained.
Alice¡¯s confusion compounded until she burst out a laugh right in my face. ¡°Colm, you fucking dumb ass,¡± she said, her voice bubbly from contained laughter. ¡°I said she¡¯s a witch. She also happens to be a doctor.¡±
I blinked in confusion. ¡°I guess¡ I guess I missed that part in my anxiety. Just¡ªcombined those two thoughts.¡±
She shook her head and went back to her phone. ¡°You big goof.¡±
My mood significantly improved. Not because I was seeing a witch who happened to be a doctor instead of a witch doctor, but because I had made Alice laugh¡ªeven if I had done so by being a moron. I like making people laugh.
I finished the paperwork and handed it back to the receptionist, who scanned the first page and entered my information into the computer. ¡°How will you be paying?¡± She asked.
¡°Bill the Martinez account,¡± Alice called from the other side of the room.
The receptionist nodded and began typing away at her computer. I noticed from her name tag that she was a registered nurse. I wish I knew enough about medicine to know if having an RN as a receptionist was weird or not.
¡°Okay,¡± the receptionist, whose name was Kathy Cuper, said. ¡°Have a seat and you¡¯ll be called in a couple of minutes.¡±
¡°Thanks,¡± I said and went to sit next to Alice again. She kept me distracted by showing me videos of an incredibly attractive, tiny woman absolutely destroying large quantities of food.
¡°Why is this so fascinating,¡± I muttered.
¡°I know, right?¡± Alice replied.
¡°Mr. Avery?¡±
I looked up and saw the receptionist at the doorway to the left of the desk, holding it open. With a last look at Alice (who gave me a thumbs up), I went with the receptionist, who took me to a new room which still, strangely, looked like any doctor''s office I¡¯ve seen in my life or on TV. A little sink, cabinets along the wall, a glass¡ what do you call that? Cylinder? What do you call the container full of tongue depressors? Anyway, there was one. Three boxes of rubber gloves of different sizes, that thing they use to look in your ear mounted to the wall. The nurse sat me down and proceeded to take my blood pressure, weight, and height, finishing by waving some burning sage around me. The last one was new. She watched my reaction critically before writing something down on the chart. She hung it on a peg by the door, instructed me to sit on the big doctor''s chair in the middle of the room, and told me the doctor would be with me shortly.
I rolled my shoulders and settled in to wait, wishing I had a smartphone like Alice so I could watch videos of people doing stupid things. Whatever calming effect the front office had was dissipating, as the longer I sat in this room the more uncomfortable and twitchy I felt. I really wanted to leave. I started to look around the room, studying the various doctor stuff¡ª
Why did I not want to look in the corner?
¡°Oh, that was quick,¡± said a thing in the corner who had not been there a second ago.
I reacted before I could think. My heart simultaneously started beating like a drum solo and dropped into the pit of my stomach as I rolled off the chair in the opposite direction of the thing, decided against throwing the big chair at it as it was bolted to the floor, and instead slammed my fingers through the counter at the edges of the sink, gripping the sides of it, ripped it from its plumbing and heaving it with all my might at the thing in the corner.
¡°Oh, my¡ª¡° the thing said as the sink slammed into a previously unseen barrier. ¡°I think that¡¯s enough.¡±
Suddenly the thing, which I couldn¡¯t get a good look at but just registered as some kind of threat, resolved itself into a pretty older woman in a lab coat. She stood relaxed, in a long tan skirt and blue blouse, sensible flats, one hand in the coat pocket while the other held a gnarled stick. She had the kind of ageless beauty I associate with Jamie Lee Curtis or Helen Mirren. She was looking at me with a slightly impressed expression.
¡°I have to say, having a sink thrown at me is a new one,¡± she said.
¡°What¡ª¡°
¡°Why didn¡¯t you use the chair?¡± She asked, making what I assumed was an arcane gesture with her hand.
Whatever had set me off suddenly left my system, leaving me confused and breathless. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure I could get it loose fast enough,¡± I said after taking a deep breath.. Then snarled in anger and threw up my mental defenses Alice had been helping me build.
The woman nodded, not reacting to my outburst. ¡°You¡¯re probably right. Only one person has been able to get it loose, and he¡¯s part ogre.¡±
¡°Who the fuck are you?¡± I asked, in a reasonable tone of voice that in no way sounded like I was close to violence.
The older woman smiled kindly. ¡°Dr. Agatha Cross.¡±
¡°Why the fuck did you make me attack you, Doc?¡± I asked. As I spoke I glanced at where the sink used to be housed and noted that while it had been hooked up to pipes, the pipes had no water running through them.
¡°The sage test was inconclusive,¡± The doctor responded. ¡°There¡¯s a magical frequency that the possessed find soothing. For non-practitioners who aren¡¯t possessed, it¡¯s vaguely irritating. Sadly, for a large percentage of practitioners, it instills paranoia and a strong fight-or-flight response. Hence the very robust interdiction field.¡±
She glanced down at the sink by her feet.
¡°Some have a stronger reaction than others,¡± she deadpanned.
¡°And that¡¯s the best test you have?¡± I asked, incredulous.
¡°The fastest and least expensive,¡± she replied.
I glanced down at the sink I had thrown at her, then at the ruined counter and plumbing.
¡°So, this is usually the part where I convince my patient that yes, my methods are extreme but you still want me as your care provider. I¡¯m not a part of the Concord and thus I do not report to them. This is a freedom I have defended for the last half century and will defend until the day I die. Because I am outside of their umbrella I have had to put in some policies to ensure my safety as I tend to attract some patients that are¡ outside the norm, the sage and following test you experienced are just a couple of the minor ones. Alice was tight-lipped about what is affecting you, but if what I have seen is any indication, you¡¯re going to want to stick around for the physical.¡± She said the last bit while looking at my hands.
I looked down and swore under my breath. My nails, which were black with a metallic sheen, had burst through my gloves when I had jammed my fingers through the counter. They didn¡¯t narrow to hooked points like claws, but at a glance they were claw-like.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
I had a long internal debate over the next thirty seconds that was the mental equivalent of ¡°I NEED TO KNOW WHAT¡¯S WRONG WITH ME¡± arguing with ¡°AAAA I¡¯M SCARED OF FINDING OUT¡± and ¡°THIS BITCH SEEMS CRAZY!¡± What finally won out was that Alice had sworn up and down that this lady was legit and that Alice was footing the bill.
I straightened out of the fighting crouch I had adopted by reflex and took a deep breath. ¡°I hope I don¡¯t regret this,¡± I muttered before backing away from the woman.
She did something and a hum I hadn¡¯t noticed until it went away dispersed. She went to the door and held it open for me. ¡°Most don¡¯t,¡± she said.
For some reason, that comforted me. I appreciated the bluntness of it.
* * *
Doc Cross took me deeper into the building, past a bunch of identical examination rooms (sans ruined counters) until she opened a door that led to a staircase that went down. And down. And down.
After about five minutes we came to a landing with a couple of chairs and a water cooler. Doc Cross turned and looked at me with a critical eye. I raised an eyebrow at her. She nodded to herself and started her descent again.
¡°Was that the halfway point?¡± I asked.
¡°Yes,¡± the doc replied. ¡°Some people need a break to catch their breath.¡±
I was so insanely curious why she would build so far down in California of all places, with its many earthquakes. The question bubbled up out of my throat almost of its own accord.
¡°Some of the enchantments and procedures I use don¡¯t react well with modern technology,¡± the doctor replied. She wasn¡¯t winded in the slightest. ¡°It was either this or move the practice out in the boonies, which would cause its own problems.¡±
¡°What if they aren¡¯t mobile? Or have a broken ankle?¡± I asked.
Cross looked at me over her shoulder, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. ¡°They get to come down the fun way.¡±
¡°What¡¯s the fun way?¡± I asked, my imagination filling the void her non-answer created.
¡°Let¡¯s hope you are never in a position to find out,¡± she replied.
¡°Spoilsport,¡± I said.
We finally reached the bottom of the stairs in a little over ten minutes, which is a lot of fucking stairs for a stairwell with no switchbacks, to get a medical exam. The average person would probably be winded just from going down the stairs or have sore knees if they weren¡¯t doing it properly. I almost died many, many times in a short span a year ago. Because of that, I¡¯ve begun to work out every day because I learned what it meant to be out of shape while in a crisis situation¡ªthe result being that these stairs were no problem. Also, I¡¯m like D-list superhero strong and durable thanks to a little haggling I did with a nigh all-powerful extra-dimensional being, so the stairs probably wouldn¡¯t have been a problem if I did nothing but play video games all day.
The doc unlocked a reinforced steel door with a key she took from her pocket and a muttered phrase I politely tried not to hear, followed by a rapid series of knocks that sounded like it should really hurt her knuckles. The door clicked and swung open of its own accord.
I followed her through and found another room I had not expected. It was like someone combined a cooking show kitchen with a fey-style garden that sandwiched an operating room between them. I frowned at the floor, which started as a half-circle of cement going out about five feet from the door. On my left, the floor became polished hardwood, well-maintained and shining with fresh polish. That side of the room housed the kitchen, with a large granite top island (the kitchen had three sinks, two of which were on the island), with one of those herb racks above it. It looked more like a pot rack but the herbs¡ on closer examination there didn¡¯t appear to be any herbs I recognized. In fact, many of the items turn out to be dried animal parts. The ones that grabbed my attention the most were the dried eyes, as I recognized a couple of what appeared to be human eyes among them. Hanging two rows down, past a various collection of hooves and what I can only assume to be calcified penises, was a string of mummified hands, tied together like you see garlic in some delis and supermarkets.
The floor to my right was grass, about four inches tall and lush. That side of the room was a garden that looked like a firm hand had told it to do what it wanted but to behave. There didn¡¯t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the garden except for a small path that wound around the surprisingly large space and ended up at a little pond with a splashing waterfall that emerged from the ivy-covered wall.
In the middle of the room, right on top of the division of hardwood and grass, was an examination table surrounded by medical equipment.
Doctor Cross had already moved over to one of the sinks and was washing her hands thoroughly. ¡°Hop up on the table while I finish over here,¡± she said, her voice easily carrying across the room.
I went over to the little table, which resembled a bed more than a table upon closer inspection. I sat on it and took off my ruined gloves with some irritation, putting them next to me on the table. Cross came over at that moment, stretching a couple of blue rubber gloves over her hands. ¡°So what seems to be the problem? And please tell me as much as you can. If you leave out important information it will impact how much I am able to help you.¡±
I sighed and ran a hand through my mop of hair, undoing a snag by virtue of cutting it with my sharp nails. ¡°Whelp,¡± I said as I pulled up my sleeves, showing my ink-black skin that went from my fingertips to the tops of my biceps. ¡°I had an incident last year and¡ had to¡ well, I had to rely on some tools for protection that I don¡¯t know a lot about but after using them for a prolonged amount of time did this to my hands and feet.¡±
The doctor took a pair of glasses from her breast pocket and put them on, motioning for me to lift my arm for her to inspect them without touching me. She did the same with my other arm and then had me take off my pants and shoes so she could inspect my legs.
¡°Is it spreading?¡± She asked.
¡°Yes,¡± I said, a defeated note in my voice. ¡°It¡¯s the main reason I worked up the balls to come here.¡±
¡°Is going to the doctor really that terrifying?¡± She asked, shooting me a disapproving glance.
I sighed. ¡°Not really, no,¡± I admitted. ¡°But of the people I have interacted with over the last nine years, the majority have been murderers and literal monsters. The incident I mentioned resulted in many deaths and I¡¯m¡ªI¡¯ve got a lot of stuff I¡¯m dealing with. Mentally. Alice is helping.¡±
¡°With her gift?¡± Cross asked as she swabbed my skin with a giant Q-tip, squinting at the result.
¡°No,¡± I said, perhaps with a bit more force than I should have. ¡°No, she¡¯s just being a good friend. Getting me to see¡ to see that there isn¡¯t violence behind every corner.¡±
¡°That¡¯s great,¡± she said with a smile. ¡°After the examination, I could recommend a therapist that does good work. He¡¯s in the know.¡±
¡°In the know¡± was practitioner code for ¡°knows there¡¯s magic and other fucked up shit.¡±
¡°I ah¡ don¡¯t know if I¡¯m ready for that,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll keep it in mind. Baby steps.¡±
Cross nodded knowingly. ¡°What were the tools you used?¡± She asked after a beat, pausing her examination to regard me expectantly.
I sucked air in through my teeth and blew it out, blowing my hair out of my face. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ know? Exactly? The¡ peerrrson? I got it from. That person called them the Limbs of the Other Side.¡±
¡°What is this person called?¡± Cross asked with deliberate slowness.
I wanted to lie. But then I remembered all the times I¡¯d yelled at the TV during a medical drama when the patient lied to the doctor and they had to browbeat the information out of the idiot to save his life. And, again, Alice vouched for this lady. If I was going to find a solution to my problem, I (and by extension, the people I went to for help) would need more information.
¡°The¡ Orphan,¡± I said.
The doctor''s eyebrow rose in surprise. ¡°What? Really?¡±
I nodded.
¡°What did you trade?¡± She asked, her professionalism dissolving into pure curiosity.
¡°Is that medically relevant?¡± I asked.
Cross sighed and shook her head. ¡°Probably not, no. But thank you for telling me. About the Orphan, that is. That both narrows down the possibilities and also increases them exponentially.¡±
¡°What?!¡±
Cross snapped her fingers and a previously unseen stool in the corner walked over and slid under her. It looked like a regular stool except the legs looked like the gnarled roots of a great old tree.
She began gesturing and a big old cauldron I hadn¡¯t noticed lifted itself out of the plants of the garden behind me, dipped itself in the pond, and began to¡ªcarefully, oh so carefully¡ªtip-toe on four iron legs over to the other side of the room where a big hearth revealed itself on the north wall, on the hardwood side.
¡°The fuck? I feel like I¡¯m in the Sword in the Stone suddenly,¡± I said.
Cross cackled. Actually cackled, like a classic 1940s witch. ¡°I got the idea from that film,¡± she said. ¡°I loved the way the furniture danced.¡±
The next three hours were taxing, to put it mildly. The first hiccup came when she tried to draw blood, but the needle snapped in the crook of my arm. She very calmly plucked out the piece of metal while I all but shouted ¡°getitoutgetitoutgetitoutgetitout,¡± then once it was out, she had to convince me to allow her to use a much bigger and stronger needle. Then it was a cavalcade of tests, ranging from normal reflex tests where she bonked my knee with a little hammer, listening to my heart, checking my ears to having me hold things and watching my reaction, drinking awful concoctions from her cauldron, allowing her to cast spells over me. At one point she took some of my blood she had drawn and flicked some of it onto a hot pan (cast iron) and watched it sizzle, which made her eyebrows raise. Any questions I tried to ask at that point were shushed as she went into a whirl of activity, pulling wands out of drawers and waving them at me one after another, throwing feathers at me and watching them fall on and around me. If I hadn¡¯t seen her demonstrate real magical aptitude, I would think this was an elaborate prank.
Finally, she collapsed in a slump on her walking stool and entered the last piece of data on her tablet. ¡°So, I have good news, medium news, and bad news.¡±
I grimaced and gestured for her to lay it on me while I slipped back into my pants.
¡°Good news is that you aren¡¯t, as far as I can tell, under outside mental influence, and you aren¡¯t in immediate danger,¡± she said, looking up from her tablet with a smile.
I sighed explosively. ¡°There¡¯s that, at least.¡±
She looked down at her tablet. ¡°As for the medium news¡ There¡¯s a lot of conflicting data. Things I¡¯ve never seen before. I¡¯ll have to go over everything and compile it, plus I need to see what the blood work brings up. I may need to schedule you to get an MRI, which will be interesting as the nearest one that¡¯s in the know and not under Concord control is in Sacramento.¡± She saw the concern on my face. ¡°I¡¯ll go through the data first and see what I find, and we¡¯ll go from there.¡± I nodded, slightly relieved.
¡°The bad news?¡± I prompted, sliding my shirt over my head and sitting on the table.
Doctor Cross set the tablet aside on one of the rolling tables that surrounded the exam table and looked me in the eye, her demeanor serious. ¡°The bad news is that I don¡¯t recognize what¡¯s happening to you.¡±
¡°You¡¯ve never seen a transformation?¡± I asked, incredulous.
¡°No, I¡¯ve seen plenty,¡± she said. ¡°What I mean to say is I don¡¯t know how the transformation is progressing. I don¡¯t see the method or spell or contaminate. Hopefully, the blood work and the scrapings I took will reveal something, but I have a feeling you stumbled onto something unique.
¡°What this means is that we are in new territory, and I want to manage expectations,¡± she continued. ¡°New territory means I¡¯ll be figuring this out as we go along. There will be very little for me to base my decisions. Since the contamination is happening at a very slow rate, I am confident that I will be able to eventually develop a treatment¡ but there¡¯s no guarantee.¡±
I nodded. ¡°There¡¯s a reason new diseases are named after the people that get them,¡± I muttered.
She patted my knee in a motherly fashion. ¡°Don¡¯t forget the good news,¡± she said. ¡°We have a long time to figure this thing out. Having said that¡ I will need to look at the tools that gave you this condition.¡±
I nodded tiredly. ¡°I figured,¡± I looked around the room. ¡°Do you have like, a¡ cage? For things that can slip through tiny cracks?¡±
¡°How big?¡±
¡°Big enough for me to stand in, with my arms to my sides,¡± I demonstrated for her.
Her eyes widened. She took off her glasses and cleaned them with a cloth she took from her pocket. ¡°Are they that big?
¡°No,¡± I scratched my head as I debated how much to tell her. Fuck it. ¡°I store them in an interdimensional cubby. The last time I interacted with them they were¡ reluctant to follow orders.¡±
She frowned, placing her newly cleaned glasses on her nose. ¡°They¡¯re sentient?¡±
I shrugged. ¡°They don¡¯t talk or anything. They¡ got a taste for blood during that incident I talked about, and didn¡¯t want to come off of me. I had to literally shove them in a hole and slam the door on them.¡±
The doctor brought her hands up and clasped them in thought, looking off into the distance. ¡°I¡¯ll have to prepare a space,¡± she met his eyes. ¡°I should have it ready by the time your blood work is done. We¡¯ll arrange it then.¡±
I nodded and slapped the tops of my thighs. ¡°So, is that it? Any changes to my diet? Get more iron?¡±
She shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re free to go. Health-wise, you are beyond what is peak conditioning for a standard human. Whatever you¡¯re doing to improve your body is working well. I would suggest that, if you¡¯re able, you focus on increasing the functionality of your key organs. Heart, liver, kidneys, skin¡ maybe not skin,¡± she said, glancing at the ink-black skin of my hands. ¡°More stress on the body means more work for your organs, and if they can¡¯t keep up they will be more likely to develop complications or fail.¡±
I nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Thanks, doc,¡± I said as I slipped my socks and shoes on. She waited patiently for me to lace up my stupid army boots (my toenails damaged my other shoes too easily) and walked with me up the long set of stairs.
When we got up to the main office, the receptionist gave me some paperwork and Alice practically attached herself to my side, she was so bored. She pestered me with questions but I muttered ¡°Not now,¡± as I made my way to the car.
I sat in the driver''s seat, staring into the middle distance, ignoring Alice¡¯s concerned look.
So, not in immediate danger.
But the clock is ticking.
¡
Fuck.
I grabbed a new pair of gloves from the glove compartment, momentarily amused once again that I¡¯m using it for its original purpose, and pulled them on.
I turned to Alice. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you on the way.¡±
Book 2, Chapter 2
¡°At least you have time,¡± Alice said. ¡°If you had procrastinated for a year and she said you had a month left to live, I would have beat the shit out of you.¡±
I winced. ¡°Yeah¡ that would have been, uh, not the best.¡±
Alice paused as she turned away from glaring at me to look at the streets we were passing. ¡°Left on Maclay, then a right on the second stop sign.¡±
I followed her directions, which went from a main street thoroughfare to a suburb. I turned at the sign she indicated, which was a cul-de-sac. Despite it being the early afternoon, the street was packed with cars. ¡°Where do I park?¡±
Alice hummed as she scanned up and down the street. ¡°There,¡± she pointed at a driveway that only had one car in it.
¡°You sure? You know them?¡± I asked, but moving to park in the driveway.
¡°We own the whole block,¡± Alice said. ¡°Tony¡¯s wife is back east with her folks so no one will complain.¡±
¡°The whole block?¡± I asked as I put the car in park. We exited the car and I followed her to one of the bigger homes at the end of the street. The house was currently blasting upbeat music to the neighborhood.
¡°Well, all the houses on the street,¡± she said. ¡°When the family moved here from Mexico in the fifties, we managed to snag a couple of houses, then kept grabbing more as people moved out.¡±
I glanced up and down the street. ¡°I like that,¡± I said.
¡°Right?¡± She said with a big smile. She pointed to a house not far from where we had parked. ¡°That¡¯s my place. You can crash there if you start seeing double.¡±
She was alluding to my problem with alcohol. ¡°Oh I¡¯m not drinking tonight,¡± I said. ¡°Once was enough.¡±
She shrugged, not convinced. ¡°Sure.¡±
¡°Really,¡± I insisted.
¡°No yeah,¡± she said with an overly sincere nod. ¡°Yeah, no I get it.¡±
¡°It was literally one time,¡± I muttered.
She elbowed me with a grin as we approached the front door (wide open) and stepped into a room from the eighties. Old cigarettes (and maybe new?) dominated my sense of smell, mixed with the faint scent of laundry detergent. From the foyer, I could see a hallway that had brown patterned, linoleum floors, dinged and dented wooden furniture, family pictures everywhere, and yellow drapes. An old ceiling fan struggled to operate, giving credit to the suggestion that it was moving air. Under the ceiling fan was a living room with old white carpet, a leather couch, a wood and glass coffee table, and three recliners circling a very large flat-screen TV. One of the recliners was occupied by a kid around nine years old, playing a shooter on a PlayStation.
¡°That¡¯s Julio, my baby brother,¡± Alice murmured to me as we paused by the entrance to the living room. In a louder voice: ¡°Julio! There¡¯s a party happening! Turn that off and be social.¡±
¡°Food¡¯s not ready yet!¡± Julio called back, not looking away from the screen.
Alice rolled her eyes and we continued. To the right was a stairway going up and a long hallway next to it that branched off several times into what I assumed to be bedrooms, bathrooms, and closets. To the left was a dining room that opened into a large kitchen, where several people were preparing food and chatting animatedly. Sitting at the dining table was an older woman talking with a woman of similar age, both smoking and using the same ashtray.
¡°Mam¨¢!¡± Alice said, interrupting the conversation to hug the closer of the two women. There was a quick exchange of Spanish before they released each other. Alice¡¯s mom turned and gave me a once-over, affecting astonishment.
¡°Is this him?¡± She asked, her accent slight.
¡°Mom, this is Colm,¡± Alice said, gesturing to me. ¡°Colm, this is my mom, Maria.¡±
¡°Nice to meet you,¡± I said as I shook her hand. I was surprised by how strong her grip was.
¡°You as well,¡± she said, releasing my hand as she said something to Alice in Spanish that made her blush.
¡°Mam¨¢!¡± She said, pretending to swat at her.
The other woman said something as well, making both of the older women burst into laughter, and making Alice blush more deeply.
¡°Colm, this is my aunt Carmen,¡± Alice said through her teeth. ¡°Also stop speaking in Spanish, it¡¯s rude.¡±
I raised my hand to Carmen with a little nod. ¡°Pleasure,¡± I said.
¡°Just having a little fun with Alice, dear,¡± Carmen said with her own return wave. ¡°We¡¯re happy to have you.¡±
Alice pulled me away from the two older women, who resumed their conversation in Spanish. We crossed the dining hall and through an open sliding door into a big backyard. The grass was healthy and well maintained, there was a children¡¯s play set off to the side (big enough for a pretty big slide) and several tables that looked like outdoor games. I spotted ping pong among them.
To the left was an absolutely giant grill that could probably handle an entire cow¡¯s worth of beef. A man about my age was manning it, a beer in one hand and tongs in the other. There were several small groups of people mingling¡ª
My instincts warned me of something approaching and I stopped following Alice. She turned and gave me an odd look. ¡°Colm?¡±
Two young men suddenly appeared before I could react. One grabbed her from behind while the other one planted a big kiss on her forehead, then messed up her hair like you would a little kid. Once done, the man behind her let her go and both men ran away like kids who stole candy, hooting like they just pulled off the greatest prank. Alice started shouting in Spanish as she tried to restore her hair with mixed results. It still looked good, but also looked like she had been in a wind tunnel.
She sighed. ¡°Those were the twins,¡± she explained. ¡°I¡¯ll introduce you to them if I don¡¯t kill them.¡±
¡°Fair enough,¡± I said.
¡°Also,¡± she said, trying and failing to pat down her hair. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you warn me?¡±
¡°I was trying to parse what I was getting,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve narrowed my future sight to warn me about danger, not¡ noogies.¡±
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She gave up on her hair and took me over to the grill. She waved as people noticed her and called out greetings, but didn¡¯t stop until the delicious smell of carne asada was blanketing the area like a¡ª
¡°Is that tacos al pastor?¡± I blurted.
On the far left of the grill, which had been previously blocked by one of the groups of people, was a tower of meat. It wasn¡¯t as big as the ones you¡¯d find in a restaurant, but by god was seeing one on a grill amazing.
¡°You bet your ass,¡± said the man at the grill. His relation to Alice was clear, but I was surprised to see he was a good deal shorter than she was. In fact, so were the twins. ¡°Obviously we have a man of taste, here.¡±
¡°Colm, meet Tony, my big brother,¡± Alice said. ¡°Tony, Colm.¡±
He slid the tongs he was holding into the pocket of his apron and shook my hand with a strong grip. He was a handsome man, with strong features and wide eyes. He had a wide, expressive mouth like Alice (a trait they shared with their mom). He kept his beard trimmed into a sharp goatee.
¡°Pleased to meet you,¡± I said.
¡°Back at ya,¡± he said, snatching up his tongs and turning over a few pieces of meat. ¡°Alice says you saved her life on that cruise last year.¡±
I shrugged. ¡°It was a back-and-forth thing, really,¡± I said, not really sure how much Alice had told him about the incident.
¡°Did you really punch a shark?¡± He asked.
I laughed. ¡°I did, knocked it the fuck out.¡±
¡°Get outta here.¡±
¡°Honest to God,¡± I said, raising a gloved hand.
Tony glanced at his sister with a raised eyebrow.
¡°I didn¡¯t actually see it,¡± she said, turning to me with a raised eyebrow. ¡°You also did way more impressive shit on that island.¡±
¡°Yeah, but nothing as instantly recognizable as punching out a shark,¡± I said.
Tony nodded.
I liked him.
¡°Hey, can you keep him out of trouble for a sec?¡± She asked Tony. ¡°I want to say hi to abuelita.¡±
¡°Sure,¡± Tony said.
¡°What am I, a dog?¡± I asked.
¡°Nah, a dog would have a leash,¡± Alice said with a wink before hurrying off.
I watched her walk away for a moment before shrugging and turning to watch Tony cook.
¡°I¡¯m guessing she didn¡¯t tell you about how special our parties were?¡± Tony asked.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. ¡°Someone¡¯s not gonna push E on me, are they?¡±
Tony snorted out a surprised laugh. ¡°No, nono, thank God. But you know about her gift?¡±
¡°Her mind juju?¡± I asked.
He nodded. ¡°Did she tell you it¡¯s hereditary?¡±
I opened my mouth in a silent ¡°Ah.¡±
¡°Yup,¡± Tony said, giving me a quick glance. ¡°She¡¯s been basically holding up the mental equivalent of a ¡®PLAY NICE¡¯ sign above your head and slapping everyone¡¯s fingers away, so to speak. She handed me the ball¡ but I¡¯m a lot less polite than she is.¡±
He jerked his head in the direction of the closest group of people. Most of them were young, and right as my eyes landed on them one of them winced, dropping their drink. They rubbed their head and gave Tony a dirty look before turning to go to the drink station. I turned back to Tony, who waggled his eyebrows at me.
¡°You don¡¯t have to worry none,¡± he said. ¡°You got pretty good defenses up and the only people stupid enough to pry are the young ones, and between me, Mom, and Alice, they¡¯ll learn to keep to themselves before dinner. But I figured you should know, just in case.¡±
¡°What¡¯d you do to him?¡± I asked.
¡°Made him think about horse cock,¡± he said, a big shit-eating grin on his face.
I laughed. ¡°That¡¯s fucked up.¡±
He nodded affably and produced another beer from under the grill, offering it to me. I waved it off. He downed the rest of the one he had in his other hand and opened the new one, resuming cooking with the consummate skill of someone who regularly did it.
I wasn¡¯t completely mollified by his assurances. I¡¯m sure Alice meant well, but she should have told me she was taking me to a party full of telepaths. I would have refused to come, which is why she didn¡¯t tell me. I¡¯m going to have to have a talk with her about that.
Aside from the general anxiety of being surrounded by literal mind-readers, I began to have a good time. Alice came back and started to introduce me around. Only about half of the people here were of the Martinez family, the rest were friends or partners. I learned that anyone marrying into the family, man or woman, took the Martinez name. Lupe (Alice¡¯s grandma) said it helped keep everyone connected, and with paperwork.
I also learned that I was a bit of a celebrity. Alice had been vague about my part in our ordeal on the cruise ship, simply saying that I was the only reason anyone had survived. I guess she was right, but it was also¡ I mean, my being on the ship was the reason everyone had been in danger. I didn¡¯t correct her, as I didn¡¯t want the conversation that would follow, but I found every opportunity to change the subject when it came up.
Then someone pointed out the Foosball table. I love table soccer. My favorite trick is the Booger Shot, so named because you pick (stop) the ball, roll it, and flick it (into the goal). I soon dominated the table. After an hour it became clear that I was too good and needed a handicap, so I played without a teammate. I no longer dominated, but I also still didn¡¯t lose.
¡°Oh I¡¯m going to put some hours in,¡± Gabe said, one of the twins. ¡°Next fiesta you come to, I¡¯m going to BEAT your ass.¡±
I laughed. ¡°Hell yeah,¡± I said. ¡°I look forward to it.¡±
Then food was ready.
Holy shit.
If I didn¡¯t know Tony was already married, I might have proposed. I said so.
¡°Don¡¯t give me all the credit!¡± Tony said from down the table. We were sitting at several folding tables that had been set end to end. ¡°These fine ladies did all the prep work,¡± he gestured to his mother and aunt.
¡°Offer¡¯s still on the table, ladies,¡± I said, shoving a taco in my mouth. That end of the table laughed loudly.
Conversation flowed in two languages up and down the table, and generally, people did their best to make me feel at home. And for a brief moment, while I was wolfing down many, many tacos, I forgot to be anxious. It was incredible.
But then of course something ruined it.
I heard raised voices coming from the direction of the house. I glanced at Alice, who shrugged and continued eating. I followed suit and tried to pick up the conversation I was having with Camille, Guapo¡¯s (the other twin) girlfriend.
The voices didn¡¯t die down, in fact, they got louder. Tony wiped his mouth and went to see what the fuss was about. By now most of the table was rubbernecking, trying to figure out the commotion was. I picked up that most people didn¡¯t recognize the raised voices.
After several minutes Tony came back and started speaking with people. He¡¯d asked a few questions and then move on. I noticed he was only talking to people with guests. Soon he made it to me.
¡°Hey, sorry to bug you, but there¡¯s an older white couple outside saying they are looking for their son, a guy named Liam Hayes,¡± he said. ¡°I keep telling them we don¡¯t have anyone here by that name but they keep insisting¡¡±
Tony''s eyes went wide as I robotically got up from my seat, moving into the house. ¡°Colm?¡± Alice asked, concern in her voice.
I walked through the house and into the front yard, where two people were standing in the small walkway the cars left room for in the driveway. They were of similar height. The woman had a long face, tired eyes and gray hair wrapped in a loose bun. She had a light orange cardigan over a white blouse and pastel red slacks. The man next too her was an inch or two taller, built like a retired rugby player. He was wearing a white polo shirt and tan slacks.
¡°Liam!¡± The woman cried, rushing forward to embrace me in a hug.
¡°Hi, Mom,¡± I said. I turned my gaze to the man. My father. My voice was flat with barely controlled anger.
¡°What the fuck are you doing here?¡±
Book 2, Chapter 3
My father squinted his eyes at me, a clear tell I¡¯ve been able to spot since I was eight, indicating he was holding back his anger. He never succeeded for long. He glanced at the open doors of the house behind me. I heard movement back there, likely Alice or Tony (he seemed like a guy who¡¯d keep a lookout for trouble) making sure everything was fine.
It wasn¡¯t.
I pulled my mom off me (when did she get so short?) and held onto her shoulders. ¡°Mom? What¡¯s wrong? Why are you here?¡±
She was a mess. In the short few seconds since she began hugging me her emotions had unraveled, making her face a water feature as she started to cry. ¡°C-Conner disappeared,¡± she said. ¡°H-he stopped answering his phone, and we went to pay him a visit. His apartment was¡ªthe police said there were signs of a¡ª¡° And that was all I got before she devolved into sobs.
I felt someone approach from behind. ¡°Is everything alright?¡± Alice asked.
¡°No,¡± I replied. I started pulling my mom away from the house, getting her legs moving. My father followed. I glanced back at Alice and pointed at my eyes and made a small circling motion with my finger, hoping she¡¯d get that I wanted her to keep an eye on us. I probably needn¡¯t have bothered: Alice is a huge gossip. Still, her face was serious and filled with concern as she nodded in understanding.
When I turned back I found my father watching the exchange with a pensive expression. I hated how much I resembled him. We shared the big chin and a strong forehead. I got my eyes, nose, and hair from my mom, and I thank God for that. My dad¡¯s nose looked like if you punched a potato and kinda spent a few moments lazily shaping it until it might resemble a nose. Or a van. It¡¯s hard to say. His eyes were close together and even when he wasn¡¯t squinting, he looked like he was. He kept his gray, thinning hair cropped close to his scalp.
Basically, he looked like someone you¡¯d cast as a thug at the end of his career in an organized crime movie.
¡°The cops said there were signs of forced entry and a struggle,¡± my father said once my mom had calmed down a little bit. She wouldn¡¯t let go of me so I was rubbing her back idly as I listened to my father. ¡°The neighbors said they heard a racket in the evening but nobody reported it at the time.¡±
¡°Why not?¡± I asked, concern growing in the pit of my stomach.
¡°Because it¡¯s a shithole and a drug den,¡± my father replied with his usual alacrity. I was inclined to dismiss him, as I dismissed everything he said, but I recalled some of my own conversations with Conner saying the only place he could afford wasn¡¯t in the best neighborhood. I could see Conner downplaying just how bad it was so we wouldn¡¯t feel the need to offer help. Conner had a strong independent streak.
¡°After a week, I decided the cops were useless,¡± my father continued, his voice as rumbling and uncaring as a mountain slide. ¡°You weren¡¯t picking up your phone and we couldn¡¯t wait until your monthly check-in, so I hired a P.I.. I thought I was throwing money into the fire for all the good he did until he called me up this morning and said he knew where you are. I had hoped that Conner had just gotten spooked and was staying with you, but from the looks of it you haven¡¯t seen him either.¡±
At this, my mom¡¯s sobs renewed.
¡°How long has it been?¡± I asked, feeling nauseous.
¡°Seventeen days since the disturbance, near as the cops can tell,¡± my father replied.
¡°Jesus,¡± I said.
Seventeen days is a long time to be missing. I spend a lot of time listening to cold case podcasts and other crime-adjacent information sources, and from that, I¡¯ve gathered that the chances of someone who¡¯s been missing for more than a couple of days turning up unharmed, or even alive, are very slim. But Conner¡ Conner¡¯s a fighter. More than me. He actually stood up to our father on occasion, which prompted me to do so as well, to split the old man¡¯s rage between us and limit the bruises and broken bones. There were a few spells I could do to determine if he was still alive¡ª
¡°Well, thanks for continuing to disappoint,¡± my father said, interrupting my thoughts. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Sybille.¡±
My mother continued to sob into my shoulder.
¡°Sybille,¡± my father said. There was a warning in his tone.
My mother froze up and started to nod shakily.
¡°Oh, fuck off you angry cunt,¡± I said. ¡°I can give her a ride when she¡¯s calmed¡ª¡°
There was a slight hiccup in my delivery as my instincts warned me of the outcome of my invective. I have a built-in three-second buffer (it¡¯s actually closer to two seconds because of a couple of workarounds I¡¯ve had to make) thanks to some¡ªin retrospect, highly inadvisable¡ªdealings with an eldritch being that just so happens to be related to Alice (it¡¯s kinda how we met). So, I saw what was going to happen, and let it.
My father swung at me. If I didn¡¯t have the benefits of precognition I probably wouldn¡¯t have known it was coming. My father went from a completely relaxed stance to setting his feet and swinging with all his might in the blink of an eye. I gently angled myself so there was no risk of the blow hitting my mom and turned my head so that the blow landed square on my left cheek.
Now, my father is a big man. I¡¯m taller by a couple of inches, but he¡¯s kept himself fighting fit for over four decades and you can tell by looking at him. By all rights he should have laid out a beanpole like me.
If the world were a fair place, he would have.
I am thin, but mostly because I¡¯m a neurotic mess who misses a lot of meals because I get hyper-focused on things. And again, while I am thin, I am by no means light. Having a lot of height means I have a lot of bone, and that adds to the pounds. Not to mention, thanks to the aforementioned deals I¡¯ve made, there have been several alterations to my cellular structure and bones that make me denser and stronger than normal.
So when the old man¡¯s fist slammed into my face, I kept eye contact with barely a flinch.
¡°¡ªdown,¡± I finished.
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I calmly extricated myself from my mom¡¯s clutches and gently moved her behind me before facing my father, keeping my eyes locked on his the whole time. I stepped within a foot of him and I felt him tense up, ready for violence.
¡°If you touch me again,¡± I said in a low voice. ¡°I¡¯ll break every fucking bone in your body. I¡¯ll be whistling a jaunty tune while I do it.¡±
Just to drive the point home, I let a piece of what I¡¯d been calling my ¡°other self¡± slip into my voice, giving it the buzz of a double-harmonic.
My father just kind of¡ stopped moving. I could practically see the gears stripping in his head as he tried in vain to figure out how to establish the proper hierarchy (which, if I had to guess, would be him: Big man, everyone else: afraid). If I didn¡¯t see his chest rise and fall and his nostrils flare with every breath I would be concerned he¡¯d died standing, somehow (if only because I didn¡¯t want to kill my father on Martinez property. That¡¯d be rude.).
I stepped away from him, keeping my eyes on the future to see if he¡¯d try to sucker punch me. He didn¡¯t. In fact, he didn¡¯t really move as I took my mom¡¯s hand and led her back toward where Alice was watching the entire exchange with the angriest expression I¡¯d ever seen on her face.
¡°Holy shit,¡± she said when I came within earshot.
¡°Ix-nay in front of the om-may,¡± I said.
¡°I¡¯m not a toddler,¡± my mom said, sniffling.
¡°Shush or you won¡¯t get your lolly,¡± I admonished.
She laughed weakly, casting a fearful gaze back at my father. Fuck. If he can¡¯t beat me, he might turn his anger on her. He usually left her alone, but after humiliating him in front of her¡ fuck.
In fact, what had home life been without Conner and I around? I took a moment to examine her. My mother had never been the most¡ outgoing person. Frankly, she¡¯s timid, and that¡¯s the politest term for it. Judging her behavior now probably wasn¡¯t the best litmus test, considering her youngest was missing and her oldest had just taken a punch from her husband. I didn¡¯t see any visible signs of abuse on her, but she was wearing a cardigan over a blouse. My father had learned to aim away from the face the first time my guidance counselor had come snooping around when I was seven.
I¡¯d have to figure something out.
¡°You got any chalk?¡± I asked Alice. ¡°I left mine in my car, but¡¡± I gestured vaguely in the direction of my car, which was just past my father.
Alice paused. ¡°Tony¡¯s bringing out some now,¡± she said. What?
Oh right, family of telepaths. That¡¯s handy.
As we approached the house Tony came out with a stick of chalk like you¡¯d see a teacher use in a classroom. ¡°Everything okay?¡± He asked as he handed me the chalk.
I sighed as I tried to decide how much to tell him. ¡°Not really,¡± I said. ¡°Aside from my father being a fuckface, my little brother is missing. Going to do a quick blood symmetry spell to see if he¡¯s alive.¡±
Tony accepted this with a nod, then caught the look my mom was giving me.
¡°Spell?¡± She asked. ¡°Liam, you¡¯re not part of a cult, are you?¡±
I suppressed a grim laugh. ¡°S¡¯okay if I use the sidewalk?¡± I asked Tony, as I squatted down.
¡°Sure,¡± he said. ¡°You sure you wanna do this¡ here?¡± He asked, leaving the ¡°in front of her?¡± unsaid.
¡°He¡¯s been missing for a while, and I want this done ASAP,¡± I said as I began to draw a circle about two feet in diameter. ¡°Plus I¡¯ll need a drop of her blood.¡±
¡°What?!¡± My mom exclaimed.
¡°Humor me, Mom,¡± I said as I began laying out the spell.
¡°Couldn¡¯t you use your blood?¡± Tony asked.
I mean I could. But¡ What with the changes to my body, I¡¯m worried that they would interfere with the spell. Alice saw the look on my face and came to my rescue.
¡°A mother¡¯s the best option for the spell,¡± she said. ¡°Strongest connection. Best practice if she¡¯s available.¡±
Tony sensed there was something else, but showed his wisdom by dropping it. I glanced up and saw my mom looking at all of us with wide eyes, and I could see she was getting ready to bolt. I stood and gently held her shoulders.
¡°Mom,¡± I said softly. ¡°Yes, this all sounds very weird. And it will continue to be so, I imagine. But we both want the same thing: Conner, safe. I could show you some things to help you believe what I¡¯m about to do, but you look pretty frayed as it is. With that in mind, I¡¯m going to need you to trust me. Can you do that? For Conner?¡±
¡°H-how much blood are we talking about?¡± She asked.
¡°Literally one drop,¡± I said. ¡°From your pinkie.¡±
She considered this for a bit. ¡°What happened to your teeth?¡±
The non-sequitur threw me for a loop before I could reorient. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you about it later,¡± I said, making a note to think up a reason why I have longer canines than when I had moved out. They aren¡¯t like, vampire fangs, but they are prominent. ¡°Can you help with the blood?¡±
She sighed. ¡°Fine,¡± she said in the same tone of voice she used when I, as a child, had said only the green M&M¡¯s tasted good. ¡°If you think it¡¯ll help Conner.¡±
¡°Thank you,¡± I said and gave her a kiss on the cheek, before returning to the spell. I wasn¡¯t overly familiar with the spell, but thankfully it wasn¡¯t complicated. Alice pointed out a mistake here and there and in a few short minutes, it was done.
Tony had disappeared but returned as I finished up the spell, holding one of those things diabetics used to jab their finger for a blood-sugar test, as well as a disinfectant wipe you¡¯d find in a hospital. He handed me a band-aide with his other hand. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s smart,¡± I said, taking them.
¡°Handy when so many spells require a blood component,¡± he said.
¡°I¡¯ll bet,¡± I replied. I turned to my mom. ¡°Ready? One drop.¡±
She nodded impatiently and held out her left hand. I tore open the packaging on the wipe, cleansed the tip of her finger with it, then without warning jabbed her finger.
¡°Ow! Warn me next time!¡± She said, swatting my arm with her hand.
Without replying I moved her hand above the spell and gently squeezed her finger, letting a drop of blood fall towards the center of the spell. As it dropped it angled itself to the exact center of the spell, then slowed to a stop an inch above the ground.
She was gearing up for more complaints but they died on her lips as she noticed the hovering drop of her blood. ¡°Liam..?¡±
I squatted next to the spell, watching it intently. Alice took the band-aide from me and helped my mom put it on her finger. Slowly, the blood developed spikes. The biggest started out at a northern point, the rest radiating out of the drop like a star. I exhaled deeply in relief as the last spike emerged from the drop. Not only were all the signs there, but I was also among them. I noted that one of the spikes was smaller than it should be.
¡°Mom,¡± I said as I studied the small spike. ¡°When you get a chance, you should call Gramma.¡±
¡°What? Why?¡± She asked.
I stood and scuffed a line of the spell with my heel, disrupting it. The blood drop fell to the pavement. I concentrated a bit and the blood was scorched into the sidewalk but a small burst of flame, making my mom gasp.
¡°Just a suggestion,¡± I said. ¡°But the good news is that Conner¡¯s alive.¡±
I turned and looked at the sky, pink with the setting sun. ¡°Now I just got to find him.¡±
Before that changes.
Book 2, Chapter 4
I turned away from my contemplation and took my mom¡¯s hands in my own. ¡°So,¡± I began. ¡°I think you should spend a night or two with me at the hotel I¡¯m staying at.¡±
I glanced down the street and saw no sign of my father. Oh, thank Christ. I reached up and rubbed my face where he had punched me.
¡°Ha!¡± Alice said. ¡°I knew you were pretending!¡±
My mom was watching me with wide eyes. ¡°Did he hurt you?¡±
¡°I mean, it¡¯s not terrible,¡± I said, stretching my mouth into a wide O shape to move the skin on my cheek. ¡°But he still hits like a train, and I stupidly let him like a moron initiating some form of cave-man dick-waving contest.¡±
I finished rubbing my face. Will it bruise? Likely. Hopefully not too bad. ¡°But you should probably make yourself scarce for a day or two. Or, I dunno, leave him.¡±
¡°Y-you¡¯re probably right,¡± she said, looking over her shoulder to where he had been. ¡°He¡¯ll need a while to calm down.¡±
Okay, not acknowledging the permanent solution. Like always.
I turned to Alice. ¡°You know a tracking spell? I haven¡¯t figured one out yet with Circe¡¯s method.¡±
¡°You should have just gone with the Bulwark,¡± Alice muttered. ¡°And of course,¡± she added, more brightly. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing this since I could walk.¡± She finished by sticking her tongue at me when she saw what I was doing.
It was an argument we¡¯ve had before so I was already making puppet motions with my hand when she made her comment. I winked at my mom. Alice gave my mom a kind smile before grabbing Tony and heading back to the main house¡ªor what I assumed was the main house, as it was where the party was.
¡°Liam,¡± My mom said, pulling my attention back to her. ¡°What is¡ what is all this talk of spells?¡±
I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want to hear, Mom,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°It¡¯s pretty clear from context and evidence.¡± I waved to the scorch mark on the ground, amidst the strange chalk designs. ¡°I do magic.¡±
¡°What?¡± She asked, her voice raising an octave. ¡°You mean, like¡ª¡° she made a ¡°mystical¡± motion with her hands, with lots of finger movement.
¡°Most spells I''m familiar with don''t require hand movements, but yeah, you got it,¡± I said as I took her hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs over her knuckles. ¡°I¡¯m going to ask that you have patience and hold back on all those questions that are no doubt begging to be asked. I¡¯m going to be focusing on finding Conner and I want to devote all of my attention to that. Can we table this discussion until things calm down?¡±
¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know if I can,¡± she asked, a slight quaver in her voice.
¡°Do your best,¡± I said. ¡°Are you hungry? I¡¯ll ask Maria to whip you up a plate.¡±
¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know if I could¡ª¡° she said, but I was already steering her towards the house.
When we got to the kitchen, it was a tornado of well-ordered chaos. A constant stream of people were moving in and out, dodging each other like a dance that was only rehearsed once but still worked flawlessly. I tried to spot Maria and was surprised when she showed up in front of me when two people parted for her.
¡°Ah!¡± Maria said upon seeing us. She turned and started shooing one of the younger men (Angel I think?) out of his seat at the dining table. ¡°Go make yourself useful and make a plate for our guest.¡± She turned toward us, offering the seat to my mom. ¡°Please, please make yourself comfortable.¡±
¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ll be staying¡ª¡° my mom said, but didn¡¯t resist as I guided her into the chair.
I caught Maria¡¯s eye and leaned down to talk into her ear, the noise of the party masking my voice. ¡°She knows me as Liam, she¡¯s public, and she saw me do magic for the first time five minutes ago.¡±
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¡°Yes, yes,¡± she said, pointing in the direction of the hallway. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye on her ni?o. Alice went downstairs to prepare the spell. Second door past the bathroom.¡±
¡°You¡¯re a lifesaver,¡± I said with an exhale. She patted my arm with a smile before beginning to engage my mom in conversation, pointing out her children and telling little anecdotes about them. I tugged a couple of hairs out of my mom''s bun while she was distracted and made my exit. As I walked away the kid came back with a plate of food and I caught my mom¡¯s wide-eyed expression at the variety.
* * *
When Maria had called it ¡°the basement,¡± I had a few images pop into my head. Most were of the normal residential basements I¡¯ve seen in movies and TV, the most prominent one being from the movie Signs which a good portion of the third act takes place in. Having grown up in Southern California, I haven¡¯t been into many basements (we don¡¯t like them out here for some reason). Another part of me had imagined, being a dynasty of part-demon practitioners, the basement would be a medieval torture dungeon with glowing symbols carved into the walls.
But instead, it was¡ You ever see those videos of rug cleaners on the internet? Or auto detailers? The room was built on a slight incline, with white polished floors of some synthetic, plastic-y-looking material I wasn¡¯t familiar with. Where the floor met the far wall, it turned into a drainage grate. The walls were lined with what looked like cold lockers from a morgue. A metal table was pushed up against one of the walls.
Aside from that, it was barren.
Alice and Tony were by one of the opened lockers, but I couldn¡¯t see inside from where I was on the stairs. I caught their conversation, muttered quietly between each other. If I hadn¡¯t improved my hearing I doubt I would have been able to hear it.
¡°Just use a needle,¡± Tony said. ¡°It¡¯s just as good.¡±
¡°Would you use a needle if it were me?¡± Alice asked sharply. ¡°It¡¯s his brother.¡±
Tony¡¯s silence was his answer.
I descended cautiously, experiencing mild surprise when the white floor wasn¡¯t slippery under my boots. I crossed the room to where they were huddled, a fragile smile appearing on my face when I saw what was in the locker.
Shelves! Moving shelves, as you might see in a tackle box, but sized up to fit in the locker. They were also on a moving slab like you¡¯d find in a morgue. Alice was pawing through the multitude of shelves, some holding dust, some various dried plants, while a whole section seemed to hold as many different types of writing implements that could be found. Here and there were odd bits of metal, the needles Tony mentioned¡ were those the hands of a watch? A whole little tray filled with watch hands. Huh.
¡°Aha!¡± Alice said, pulling the shelves out of a locker a little more to show a mostly empty tray. She reached in and pulled out what looked like¡ a watch hand. ¡°Told you we still had some.¡±
Tony rolled his eyes and turned to me. ¡°Hey man,¡± he said. ¡°How¡¯s your mom doing?¡±
¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± I said, then: ¡°I think. I sat her down with Maria and food and hopefully, the normalcy of the party will keep her distracted long enough to stop her from wondering why her son is wearing gloves or why he can conjure fire with his mind.¡± I pointed at the tray of watch hands. ¡°Why not use those?¡±
Alice looked up from the small item in her hand. ¡°Those are watch hands,¡± she said as she raised the item in her hand. ¡°This is the arm of a compass.¡±
Ah. Yeah, that would work much better for a tracking spell. I held up the hairs I¡¯d been clutching between my thumb and index. Alice took them. ¡°No more blood?¡±
I snorted. ¡°She nearly fainted the first time,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t have the heart to ask for more.¡±
Alice nodded. ¡°This should be fine,¡± she said. ¡°I just like using blood for precision.¡±
I watched as Alice began tying the hairs to the compass arm, as Tony pushed the shelves back into the locker. Alice began muttering something in Latin, tying the hairs in a knot on the ¡°north¡± part of the arm. As she worked her voice became more distinct, until she let go of the compass. It floated in front of her, spinning this way and that.
¡°Quaerite,¡± Alice said, her voice echoing strangely in the room.
The compass arm spun.
And spun.
And continued to spin.
Alice looked at me, her eyes wide.
¡°FUCK!¡± I said.
Unless Conner had died in the time since I cast the spell upstairs¡
Someone was hiding him. Someone who knew magic.
¡°FUCK!¡± I repeated.
Book 2, Chapter 5
Just to cover bases I cajoled and guilted my mom into donating another couple of drops of blood so we could rule out a weak medium as the reason for spell failure. The second drop of blood was for another blood symmetry spell, this time cast by Alice. Both spells got the same results (or lack thereof).
¡°What are the odds that two brothers, in two parts of the country, get involved with real magic?¡± I asked Alice as I pulled a pack of cigarettes from my pocket and lit one with a thought. I took a long drag and leaned back to blow the smoke into the air. We were killing time waiting for one of Alice¡¯s brothers to get back to us. Mama Martinez (what I¡¯d begin to call Maria in my head) sent for an item that she claimed could help me track down my brother, but it was in a safety deposit box at a private bank downtown. I had wanted to accompany him to get the item, but the bank catered to practitioners and had rather severe security that involved divination and if they sensed my approach, could add hours to the chore. So I was cooling my heels.
We were in Alice¡¯s backyard. I felt awkward about my family drama kinda clothes-lining the mood of the party, so Alice suggested we move someplace away from the prying eyes and minds of her family. Which was three houses down.
Alice¡¯s backyard, unlike her mother¡¯s, was mostly concrete. There was a propane grill covered in grime and cobwebs and a drained in-ground pool that looked like it hadn¡¯t been used since the last resident. We were sitting on a couple of patio chairs with a picnic table in front of us. From the little I saw inside the house, most of the furniture was a couple of decades old and probably a holdover from whoever had lived here previously. I get the feeling Alice doesn¡¯t spend a lot of time here.
I could feel Alice¡¯s frown in my periphery as she watched me smoke. ¡°Since when do you smoke?¡±
Alice is one of the few people I trusted, so I decided to be blunt. ¡°Since I discovered it stops my hands from shaking and helps with my panic attacks.¡±
¡°Oh, Jesus, Colm,¡± she said. ¡°I had no idea it was that bad.¡±
I shrugged. ¡°I kind of wanted it that way,¡± I said, taking another drag. ¡°I¡¯m not used to¡ having¡¡± I made a frustrated noise.
¡°People to go to?¡± Alice finished.
I pointed my free hand at her with a finger gun, and mimicked it going ¡°off.¡±
¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± She asked after a pregnant break in conversation.
I sighed. ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯m gonna. As much as I hate reliving those days¡ those conversations we had on the ship and¡ªsubsequent badgering by you and Ida have helped a lot. Just¡ªjust don¡¯t prompt me.¡±
Alice nodded, her big eyes full of concern.
I took another long drag, letting the smoke spill from my mouth and nose as I talked. ¡°The¡ biggest, problem¡ªI guess, is that I feel¡ I feel I should be handling this better? And the fact that I don¡¯t makes it worse?
¡°I spent nearly eight years in a manic dash to prepare for when the boogeyman came after me, and when he did¡ I won? Kind of? I definitely survived. And some days I think of that and feel like things are so much better than they ever have been before. I have friends. I have power. Resources. I¡¯m in such a better place both physically and logically it¡¯s rather staggering.¡±
I took another drag, the ember of the cigarette eating into the filter. I flicked it in the direction of the trash can by the grill as I pulled out another with my other hand. This one I lit without taking a drag from.
¡°And then other days, it all comes crashing at me like I¡¯m at the base of the Hoover Dam and they opened the floodgates. Sometimes I can function¡ªI take a long shower, I put my phone on mute, I re-watch Labyrinth, I eat. Sometimes I just¡ lose time.
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¡°I find myself in the corner of my house with my gun in my hand, not remembering grabbing it. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s there for me,¡± I quickly added, feeling Alice tense next to me. ¡°But I¡¯m¡ªI think understandably¡ªworried what would happen if someone happened to show up at my house during that time. It¡¯s¡ªIt¡¯s terrifying.¡±
I was silent for a long time. Long enough for the lighting to change as full night descended, and for the cigarette between my lips to become ash and go out. I woodenly took the butt and flicked it toward the trash can.
¡°Other times I¡¯m all too aware of what¡¯s happening. I have trouble breathing, it feels like my heart is going to burst. I¡¯ve broken so much shit in my house from just trying to get something to eat to calm my nerves. I¡¯ll try to grab the orange juice and my shaking fucking hands will just burst the carton.¡±
I sighed.
¡°I was actually getting better,¡± I said, finally glancing in Alice¡¯s direction. ¡°I was feeling confident enough that I finally stopped making excuses as to why I couldn¡¯t come down here¡ and now my little brother is missing and in the hands of people from our side of the street. So many terrible scenarios are clashing in my mind I¡ª¡°
I made a visible effort to stop and gripped the edge of the table hard enough to make the fiberglass creak and pop from the pressure.
I took another deep breath and held it for three seconds before letting it go. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate any lectures on smoking be held until my brother is found and safe,¡± I said as I slowly relaxed my grip on the table.
¡°Sure,¡± Alice said quietly.
¡°Thanks,¡± I said, hoping she got that I wasn¡¯t just talking about laying off the cigarettes. From her answering smile, I think she did.
¡°So, speaking of Ida¡¡± Alice began.
I gave her my full attention, an eyebrow arched in inquiry.
¡°It was supposed to be a surprise, but her plane is arriving tomorrow morning,¡± she said.
I was elated. Ida and I had been keeping in touch since our misadventure in the Pacific. While Alice and I had become close friends, I had been secretly hoping Ida and I may be something more. I think we had been flirting over our semi-weekly Facetime calls, but I didn¡¯t want to read too much into it in case she was just being friendly. There was a lot that can be miscommunicated over the phone¡ But I was hopeful. I mean, she HAD kissed me on the island. It had been on the cheek, though. So¡ Fuck, I wish I could read minds like Alice.
¡°That¡¯s fucking awesome,¡± I said, getting excited. But then I remembered the situation with my brother, and my shoulders slumped a little bit.
¡°Yeah, the situation isn¡¯t what we wanted it to be,¡± Alice said. ¡°But hey, think of it this way: We have an Interpol investigator coming in.¡±
A rare bloom of optimism came over me. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, a fragile smile forming on my lips. Alice reached over and squeezed my hand.
She became distracted, looking towards the house. ¡°Tony says your mom is looking for you,¡± she said.
I nodded and stood. ¡°Yeah I probably left her alone longer than I should have,¡± I said in a low voice.
¡°Colm?¡± Alice asked, bringing me up short. I turned and regarded her.
¡°I understand why you hate your dad,¡± she began slowly. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s obvious he¡¯s a piece of shit. But I¡¯m getting, I don¡¯t know, some¡ªnot the same feeling, but definite resentment?¡± She held up her hands in a ¡°stop¡± motion. ¡°If I¡¯m overstepping, forget I said anything.¡±
I sighed. ¡°It¡¯s¡ complicated. Well, no it isn¡¯t. It¡¯s just¡ªI love my mom,¡± I finally said. It came out a bit flat, though. ¡°I love her,¡± I said more sincerely. ¡°But, at the same time, I don¡¯t like her. She had the means to get us away from that monster. Growing up, the older I got, the more it became clear that she stayed with him not because she couldn¡¯t leave, but because she wouldn¡¯t. These days, there¡¯s enough information around that I know there are psychological problems in abusive relationships that makes getting away from the abuser difficult¡¡±
I felt my face form into a snarl, without making the accompanying noise. ¡°But any consideration I have for her is lost when I remember she did nothing whenever that piece of shit used Conner and I as an outlet for his aggression. She did the bare minimum to keep us safe when all she had to do was leave and take us with her.¡±
I took a deep breath and let my anger flow out of me, the process old and familiar by this point. I turned and stalked into the house, doing my best to hide my frustration and anger by the time I got to the living room.
¡°Liam!¡± My mom called as I walked in. ¡°We were just wondering where you went. Tony was telling me that his family owns every property on the street. Isn¡¯t that wonderful?¡±
I pulled on my best fake smile, which was a bit muted from the heavy conversation I just left. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°It seems like a nice way to keep the family together...¡±
Book 2, Chapter 6
Tony did a good job keeping my mom and I distracted while we waited for his brother to return. He told amusing stories about the family, mostly centered on embarrassing situations involving his little brothers. I did my best not to look like I was waiting to be dismissed from jury duty.
¡°...so Guapo grabs this entire five-pound ham,¡± Tony was saying, gesturing with his hands to mimic the events of the story. ¡°Scared out of his mind he¡¯s going to get yelled at for ruining so much food, and hides it under the sink.¡±
My mom was covering her mouth with her hand, amusement in her eyes. ¡°No!¡±
¡°Yes!¡± Tony said solemnly. ¡°He then grabs his savings, rides his bike to the Ralph¡¯s, buys a replacement ham, and manages to get it into the fridge right before Mom and Abuela get home. He¡¯s so relieved he didn¡¯t get caught that he forgets about the ham he hid under the sink. In the middle of summer. Before we had Central Air.¡±
¡°Oh no!¡± My mom said, her shoulder shaking with laughter. ¡°How long was it there?¡±
¡°Two weeks,¡± Tony said, shaking his head. ¡°He had wrapped it in plastic grocery bags which stopped the smell from spreading too much. That was until my mom was looking for something under the sink and shifted it, spilling five pounds of awfulness everywhere.¡±
The conversation continued for a bit until Tony had to take a call. He excused himself and stepped out into the driveway to take it, leaving me alone with my mom. She was sitting with a somewhat prim air on one end of the sofa that faced the entertainment center, while I occupied the love seat to her right. In front of us was a glass coffee table with a few drinks we had taken from the party.
Alice¡¯s living room was slightly more modern than her mother¡¯s house but much less lived-in. Less cared for. The walls were unadorned. The furniture was functional. The gray carpet was just slightly darker than the whitewashed walls. The one thing that stood out was the new end table that was near the front door, where Alice put her keys and purse.
It made me curious to see her bedroom, to see if the¡ hand-me-down feel of the place was present there. Not enough to actually get up and go see, of course. That felt like it would be an invasion of privacy.
¡°Liam..?¡±
I turned my attention back to my mother, her earlier good mood having left with Tony. I could see the worry eating away at her like a bead of molten metal dropped in Styrofoam. ¡°Yeah?¡± I asked, hiding my own worry for her benefit.
¡°Why are they calling you Colm?¡± She asked.
Shit. I had thought any mentions of my name had happened out of earshot. Someone must have been talking about me in earshot while I had been doing the tracking spells. I slumped back in my chair and stopped myself from running a hand through my hair. It felt gross with the gloves on. The silence stretched as I debated with myself how much to tell her.
¡°Because that¡¯s my name,¡± I said at last. ¡°I¡ªhad it changed.¡±
My voice caught on that last bit. My name change hadn¡¯t been legal, but it had been thorough. At least, that¡¯s what the person who I paid a very, very large sum of money to had said. They had claimed that unless the full power of a major investigative body took a look at it, it should hold up to most scrutiny.
My mom¡¯s eyes began to water. ¡°Why?¡±
¡°Because I hate him,¡± I said after a moment. I opened my mouth to continue, but nothing came out.
¡°L¡ªLiam, I know you¡ª¡° she began.
¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I interrupted. ¡°Don¡¯t defend him. Don¡¯t try and patch things up. I¡¯m going to find Conner, I¡¯m going to get him on his own two feet, I¡¯m going to relocate him somewhere far, far away from Jack.¡± I had never called my father by his first name before, as I had known the old cuss would see it as disrespectful. It felt liberating. ¡°And if I have my way, we will never see him again.
¡°How often we see you will largely depend on if you¡¯re still with him,¡± I said with a sigh.
My mother shook with unshed tears, looking at me like she wanted to say something but was afraid of my reaction. I leaned forward and patted her knee, hopefully taking the sting out of my words.
¡°None of that really matters right now,¡± I said. ¡°We can hash this all out when Conner is safe, alright?¡±
My mom nodded shakily, pulling a hanky from her pocket and dabbing her eyes.
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I fell into a pensive silence, going over my options. It took me a bit to realize that I¡¯m going about this entirely wrong. I have solved multiple cold cases. I just might be able to find a missing person.
¡°Grab your things,¡± I said as I stood. ¡°We¡¯re going to Conner¡¯s apartment. You know the address?¡±
She nodded. ¡°But what about the¡ªthe thing?¡±
¡°I¡¯ll have him meet us there,¡± I said, heading for the backyard.
I poked my head out the sliding glass door, seeing Alice on her phone. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m going to check out Conner¡¯s apartment. Can you tell your brother to meet us there? Also, can you come and watch my back?¡±
¡°Yes, and of course,¡± she said, quickly putting her phone to her ear and standing. She split off down the hall to what I assumed was her bedroom. I waited for my mom to get ready before heading outside.
We met Tony in the driveway, my mom clutching her phone to her chest, likely keeping the address I had requested to hand. Tony saw us, noticed the change in my bearing, and ended his call.
¡°What¡¯s up?¡± He asked.
¡°Going to check out my brother¡¯s apartment,¡± I said. ¡°I have some experience in investigation and if I have to sit still for one more minute I¡¯m going to start setting things on fire.¡±
Given that I could start fires with my mind, maybe I should have said¡ not that.
Tony took it in stride, however. ¡°I get it, man. I¡¯ll have Guapo meet you there. You have the address?¡±
¡°I can forward it,¡± Alice said, emerging from the house sporting some jewelry that seemed familiar. Specifically the chain ¡°belt¡± she wore that I¡¯ve seen her shoot lightning out of when held in her hands.
I was going to comment on the chain being overkill, but given that I was going to be grabbing out of the trunk of my car¡ªit felt a little hypocritical. I held out my hand for Tony to shake.
¡°It was good meeting you Tony,¡± I said once he gripped my hand. ¡°Sorry about¡¡± I gestured vaguely with my other hand. ¡°All this.¡±
He pulled me into an embrace, slapping my back affectionately before releasing me. I was so surprised by the gesture I had nearly done something violent but had stopped myself before I could more than tense up. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it man,¡± he said. ¡°Family is important. You need anything, you let me know. You got it?¡±
I nodded shakily, feeling awkward. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. The word felt insufficient, but it was all I could manage under the mounting anxiety of having been touched without warning. With a final nod, I started across the street to my car.
Alice caught up to me. ¡°You alright?¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± I said, glancing behind me to see Tony back on the phone. ¡°Just caught me off guard.¡±
Because of my upbringing, being touched when I wasn¡¯t expecting it causes me to flinch. It¡¯s not nearly as bad as it was¡ªturns out, being forced into hand-to-hand combat with magical pirates and extradimensional entities does a lot to make one confront being touched without permission. But every now and again I get a flash of the old phobia and it rattles me more than expected.
I went and turned on my car to get the AC going, while also popping open the trunk before I helped my mom into the passenger seat.
¡°Oh, no, I can sit in the back. Alice is so tall, she needs the legroom,¡± my mother said.
¡°She¡¯s also just as polite as you, and would think worse of me if I let my mom ride in the back,¡± I said. Sybille glanced at Alice, who nodded in agreement.
¡°Alright,¡± Mom said, finally setting her weight in the chair. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±
¡°Positive,¡± Alice said.
¡°I gotta grab a few things from the trunk,¡± I said as I closed the door.
I went over and opened the trunk all the way. Inside was a fairly small and trash-filled space, with the spare tire and jack thrown in without a care for placement. Alice gave me a judging look.
¡°Okay, this works better than I thought,¡± I said with a smirk, before shoving aside the wheel, grabbing an up-to-now hidden handle, and lifting up the false bottom. The trash, tire, and jack all stayed attached to the false bottom as I move it out and leaned it against the left tail light. With the cover off, the enchantment deactivated.
¡°Oh¡ªoh wow, that¡¯s subtle,¡± Alice said appreciatively. ¡°How does it wor¡ª¡°
Her voice cut off as she caught sight of what was hiding in the false bottom of the car. One of the things I love about the 1992 Honda Accord was that it has a deceptively large trunk space, especially with a few after-market modifications. Having to disguise the hidden compartment with the trash-covered false bottom meant I had to put my groceries in the back seat, but it was a small price to pay for having a secret arsenal to hand.
In the car was an M4A1, the standard assault rifle of the US Armed Forces, and an MP5 Navy, five loaded magazines for each. Below them were two matte black 1911 pistols, also with five loaded magazines. Lining the left wall were three grenades in their own protective case. In a similar, larger case on the right wall just above the wheel well was a 40mm breech-loading grenade launcher, the same kind that was used in Terminator 2.
The rifle, submachine gun, and pistols took up the top half of the trunk. The bottom half was reserved for one pistol¡ªa Mk VI Webley¡ªand a large, gray case made out of a composite material about the dimensions of a suitcase.
¡°Jesus Christ, Colm,¡± Alice muttered.
¡°You only need to get attacked by pirates once before you think you were a little unprepared,¡± I said, picking up the Webley and the in waistband holster next to it. The gun leaped into my hand when it got about three inches close, which made Alice back up a step.
¡°That wasn¡¯t you,¡± she said.
¡°Nope,¡± I replied. ¡°This one¡¯s a mean fuck, and he¡¯s always hoping to be of service.¡±
I slipped the gun into the holster, then the holster into my pants just over my appendix. I grabbed two speed loaders and dropped them into my right pocket.
¡°You brought an arsenal to a party,¡± Alice said with a frown.
¡°Technically,¡± I said, making sure the weapons were all still in their housing before replacing the false cover. ¡°I bring an arsenal everywhere.¡± I shut the trunk. ¡°Don¡¯t think you¡¯re special.¡±
She snorted. ¡°Just don¡¯t let my abuela catch you. She hates guns.¡±
I gestured to the back seat behind my mom. ¡°Better sit on that side,¡± I said. ¡°If I move my chair forward even a little bit I won¡¯t be able to get in the car.¡±
Once we were all seated, I put the car in gear. I did my best to drive calmly, despite all the nervous energy running through me. My mind kept supplying me with grisly horror stories from the cold case podcasts I listen to, putting Conner in the middle of them.
Hold on, buddy.
Book 2, Chapter 7
¡°Okay, so, Dad wasn¡¯t exaggerating when he said this place was a shithole,¡± I observed as we neared my brother¡¯s apartment.
Located spitting distance from Skid Row¡ªa place literally synonymous with poverty and homelessness¡ªConner¡¯s apartment building was one of those beige boxes that seem to pop up as soon as the crime rate reached a certain milestone. It was ugly and functional, with most of the windows dominated by crappy window-unit air-conditioners most likely supplied by the tenants and not the landlord. We were distant enough from Skid Row that the sidewalk wasn¡¯t covered in tents (though there were some scattered about) but were close enough that the residents of the tent cities were in evidence. Trash was everywhere. Graffiti, while not omnipresent like in certain places in the city, was nonetheless making itself abundantly known. The smell of urine mixed with other waste started to fill the car, so I turned on the air recirculation on the AC.
¡°I¡¯ve never been to this part of LA,¡± Alice said. ¡°You see it on the news occasionally, but in person¡¡±
¡°TV doesn¡¯t really do it justice,¡± I said.
I saw her nod in the rear-view mirror.
My mom didn¡¯t comment. She had been here before and was probably less shocked by what she was seeing. She was also more focused on me. She had to tell me to turn on my headlights and it had taken me a minute to figure out how. I hadn¡¯t used them in years. I can see perfectly well in almost complete darkness, and my car had several enchantments on it that made other cars (or rather, their occupants) avoid it and made cops ignore it. Since she had to prod me into turning them on, she had been studying me. Perhaps she had been studying me since she first laid eyes on me. It has been nearly a decade since we were together. I looked a lot different from the gangly young man she had known. Now I was a gangly man. A gangly man with superpowers.
I felt my face become thoughtful. I rarely think of my abilities as anything other than that: abilities. But a lot of them were pretty synonymous with superpowers. I had super strength. I couldn¡¯t pick up a car or anything, but I could definitely rip a door off a car and hurl it with enough force to embed it in another car if I hit the right spot. I had enhanced hearing and sight. Not smell though. I looked into what makes for a strong sense of smell and it¡¯d involve turning too much of my heads real estate into scent receptors.
I didn¡¯t feel super. Mostly I felt scared. Surprisingly, I wasn¡¯t scared for myself. That there, that was a new experience. Or at least an unfamiliar one. I was usually scared for myself and the state of my mind and/or soul. But now I¡¯m not scared about me¡ªI¡¯m scared about my little brother.
I preferred the former.
The new vulnerability played across my mind as I searched for a parking space on auto-pilot. It¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s weird not being scared about myself for once. On one hand, a part of me guiltily felt relieved that I wasn¡¯t the one in danger. The larger part of me felt that other part of me feeling relieved was a major betrayal, not only to Conner but to myself. Fuck you, selfish part of me.
Conner and I were only two years apart, and he had always been mature for his age. We grew up together and were each other¡¯s first friends. But as I hit the age where mom kept floating the idea of college, we grew apart. Probably because Conner knew, just like I did, that I¡¯d take any opportunity to get away from my father I could get. Just like he would.
I became ashamed to realize that, aside from the occasional phone call where I didn¡¯t do too much asking, I had no idea what Conner¡¯s life had been like after I left. I had just been¡ ecstatic. And a mess. And ecstatic mess who was stumbling into his first series of real relationships. I had had few thoughts about what Conner must be going through, alone. I had just been relieved to be making friends who knew nothing about my home life.
Look how that turned out.
I realized I had parked and began shutting the car down. Alice reminded me about the headlights and I murmured a thanks as I turned them off. I was about to climb out of the car but was held up by a concerned noise my mom made.
¡°I don¡¯t think you can park here,¡± she said, pointing at the big ¡°No Parking After 6 PM¡± sign.
¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± I said as I resumed my exodus from the tiny Japanese vehicle. The car wasn¡¯t uncomfortable once I was in it, but being as tall as I was made getting in and out of it a non-trivial exercise. I met Alice on the sidewalk and noticed my mother hadn¡¯t exited the car yet. I approached her door and opened it so we could talk.
¡°You alright?¡± I asked.
¡°Maybe we should do this tomorrow morning? The police said some things about this part of the city¡¡± She was wringing her hands and looking at the squalor around us like it might come alive and attack her.
I felt like saying something along the lines of ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t have to worry: I¡¯m the most dangerous thing here.¡± But I don¡¯t think she¡¯d find comfort with that and it¡¯d probably bring up many awkward questions. Or rather, reasonable questions with awkward answers. When is the best time to tell your mom you¡¯re housing a piece of yourself from another dimension, and in that dimension, they¡¯re analogous to Cthulhu? And that you might be infected with whatever the fuck that is?
The short answer is there isn¡¯t a good time, and I¡¯m not going to think about the long answer.
¡°I don¡¯t think anyone¡¯s going to give us trouble,¡± I said, holding out my hand for her to take. ¡°Despite my feelings for the man, I admit Dad did an adequate job teaching me to defend myself,¡± I continued as I helped her out of the car and closed the door behind her.
¡°It¡¯s one thing to know how to defend yourself,¡± she complained as she nervously looked around. ¡°And another to go somewhere where you know you¡¯ll likely have to.¡±
A valid point.
¡°Conner doesn¡¯t have time for us to be squeamish,¡± I said gently. Then, in a more encouraging tone: ¡°Show me his apartment.¡±
She nodded and began walking towards the big beige box that could be called an apartment complex but probably should be called ¡°condemned.¡± As we approached I could see cracks in the walls and water damage, and we haven¡¯t even entered the thing yet. My mom guided us to the main entrance, which was one of those security doors with a mechanical keypad. This brought my mom up short.
¡°Shoot!¡± She said. ¡°I forgot to call the manager,¡± she looked up at me apologetically. ¡°He let us in last time.¡±
I made a show of looking around casually. ¡°This part of town, I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s more for show than function.¡± I reached over and gripped the doorknob and gave it a rattle. While I did so, I gathered the magic of the one spell I knew under my new method and turned the knob on the other side of the door. On my second rattling of the door, it opened.
My mother frowned in disapproval. ¡°They should really have better security.¡±
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I shrugged and waved her through, Alice and I sharing a look over her head.
Last year, during our adventure at sea, Alice had let me know that my magical education was lacking. I was almost entirely self-taught when we met and was using magic in a very dangerous manner if you wanted to live longer than three decades. It was basically like trying to operate a car without engine oil, or a firewall between the engine and the driver¡¯s seat.
That missing fundamental was what is known as a Separation Method, or Method for short. It was also known in more recent times as an Insulating Method. Basically, a Method was a way to cast magic and keep the magic from affecting you and keeping it affecting the shit you want it to affect.
Alice had recommended the Bulwark Method, which is what most of the Martinez family and the larger magical community use. With the Bulwark, you basically make a mental construct that is separate from your mind, where you can assemble spells and fire them off without having to be afraid of cooking your brain in your skull. The downside of this method was it took a while to set up, with most practitioners taking two to three years to achieve it. The upside is that once it was made it made learning new spells incredibly easy.
The Bulwark wasn¡¯t the only method, however. In fact, there were dozens. Maybe hundreds. But because it was so prevalent in the community, the Bulwark was synonymous with Method. Kinda how older people call all tissues Kleenex¡¯s or copiers Xerox¡¯s.
I had gone with a different Method. As much as I could appreciate the ease and uniform use of the Bulwark, I was already behind in my magical education and I didn¡¯t want to spend a few years doing meditation exercises to build a tiny room in my mind where I can store my spells like a magical gun locker. The method I had chosen was Circe¡¯s.
Why the method was named after a Greek sorceress known for turning people into animals is a mystery, even to some of the truly ancient people who practice the method. The nearest I could tell (and I am no expert on the subject) is that turning people into animals is not something you can accomplish with a pre-built Bulwark spell; each casting needed to be tailored to the individual. Which is where Circe¡¯s method shines.
Instead of building a little room in your mind where you store all your magic spells, Circe¡¯s method requires you to sit down with one spell and learn it by rote from every single angle, while practicing a form of meditation that keeps the energies from bleeding over into your body. The downside of this method is that you have to do it with every spell you want to learn, which makes adding spells to your arsenal a pain in the ass. The upside is that every spell you learn this way becomes the Swiss Army Knife version of that spell.
The spell I focused on for my first spell with my new method is a moderately powerful telekinesis spell, meant to push or lift a couple hundred pounds. Alice knows the spell and gave me the little book that detailed how to cast it. But since I had to go over every inch of the spell, from its weakest application, narrowest focus to widest, whether I could split the effect or flatten it¡ªit became so much more versatile.
The other upside of Circe¡¯s method is that, when you completely master a spell, you no longer need the verbal components.
My mom lead us to the elevator (I was surprised that it worked, but not surprised by its cleanliness. In that it was not clean. I was thankful for my gloves.) and took us to the third floor. I gave a worried glance at the flickering fluorescent lights, housed in a broken light fixture. I suddenly remembered that I¡¯m a good buck fifty heavier than I looked, standing in a shitty elevator in a shitty apartment building that was definitely not up to code. I hoped their elevator technician was on the ball.
The doors opened with a jerky, stutter-step motion. One of them didn¡¯t quite open all the way. My mom almost tripped on exiting, as we discovered the elevator hadn¡¯t quite made it all the way up to be flush with the third floor. The hallway we exited to had a couple of half-full trash bags leaning up against the wall, under some colorful (and shitty) graffiti of a cartoon cat fellating a cactus.
¡°Is that supposed to be Garfield?¡± Alice asked.
I shrugged.
My mom lead us down the hall, of which only one of the four light fixtures was operating, lending the place some real Silent Hill vibes. If it wasn¡¯t for the two children loudly chasing each other up and down the hall under the watchful (if tired) eyes of their mother, I¡¯d probably be resting my hand on my Webley and getting ready to draw.
We fell into single file on the right to allow the children to run past, looking like they were playing a game of tag. I was watching them with a little amusement and almost ran into my mom as she stopped in front of a door.
¡°This is it,¡± she said, gesturing at the door.
I had expected some police tape over the door and wasn¡¯t disappointed. It wasn¡¯t crossed over the door, however, but hung loosely from the frame, suggesting that someone had been inside and hadn¡¯t bothered to step under the tape. I caught my mom¡¯s eye.
¡°Was this like this when you were here?¡± I asked.
She shook her head. ¡°No, we had to duck under the tape.¡±
¡°When were you here last?¡± I asked, fidgeting with my gloves.
¡°About two weeks ago,¡± she replied.
I winced. They had been looking for Conner and trying to call me for two fucking weeks. I shoved my guilt aside and tried the doorknob, finding it locked. I was about to make up some pretext as to why it wasn¡¯t locked for my mom''s sake but realized she had already seen me do magic and that I was trying to hide largely from habit. I caught her eye and winked as the door clicked and swung open, guided by my magic.
She gave a little gasp. ¡°W-was that you?¡±
¡°You betcha,¡± I said, scanning the room.
The apartment was tiny. From seeing the building outside and noticing the general structure inside, I assumed the northern side of the building was mostly studio apartments while the southern side had the bigger, family-sized apartments. Because of the size of Conner¡¯s apartment, I could see most of it from the front door.
The far right corner had a twin mattress with a big comforter and a bunch of large pillows. Above it were some floating shelves Conner likely installed himself with some tools, books, and a model steam engine I had gotten him for his birthday right before I moved out. He had wanted to be an engineer at the time so I figured he¡¯d like a model train that was an actual real steam engine, and I was right. I was touched to see it here and surprised that no one had stolen it during his absence. I stepped into the room to get a better look at the place.
The kitchenette was bare. Conner had never been much of a cook, and the fast food wrappers overfilling the trash can told me that hadn¡¯t changed. From what I could see from the small counter, he subsisted mostly on McDonald¡¯s, McDonald¡¯s coffee, and instant coffee.
As I scanned the room a portrait of his daily life started to paint itself in my mind. The scattered mechanical and engineering books told me something about his goals. The tools here and there, along with a couple of engine parts, told me he brought his work home. The coveralls in the hamper with his name on them told me he worked in a garage, but the university letter on the nightstand told me he was taking night classes.
Overall, nothing stood out that would tell me why people would bother to kidnap him. From what I could piece together, he looked like he was too busy to even be in a position to catch the eye of any criminals or criminal organizations. The fact that they hadn¡¯t demanded a ransom was also telling.
Why keep him alive?
¡°Alright,¡± I said, pulling the glove off my right hand. ¡°Time to do what I came here to do.¡±
There was a sharp intake of breath as my mom caught sight of my hand. Whoops. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about it later,¡± I told her, soothingly. ¡°I promise. But right now I need my concentration because I¡¯m going to do more hoodoo to find Conner.¡±
First thing I did before I actually touched anything was remove the mental block I had on my psychometry. I hadn¡¯t used it since before my cruise adventure because I was convinced (thoroughly and LOUDLY) by Ida and Alice to stop trading the souls of murderers to eldritch beings for power and to protect myself the old-fashioned way with high-powered ordnance (this from Ida) and magical prowess (this from Alice).
Psychometry is the ability to tell the past of an item by touch. I had used it mainly to break cold cases for my own purposes (see previous comment about murderers), breaking into old evidence lockups to touch things until I got something I could use. It was a pain in the ass to experience 24/7, however (nobody wants to know that someone had blown their nose on their sheets, even if the sheets had then been washed and dyed), so I had figured out a little trick to ¡°turn it off¡± when I wasn¡¯t using it.
Alice thinks the technique I used is similar to building a Bulwark, which was the leading factor in her continued attempts to get me to use the method. She thinks that because of the mental shenanigans I¡¯ve forced myself to do to live with the powers I¡¯ve bought, I could master the method in record time. She might be right, but Circe¡¯s method is just more appealing.
So, with my psychometry now in full effect, I crossed back to the open door and touched the door handle, because that was the most likely thing the kidnappers had touched.
Information exploded in my mind and I crumpled to the floor like a marionette with cut strings.
Book 2, Chapter 8
I found myself in space. Odd shapes made out of darkness moved in my periphery, but when I turned to get a better look at them all I saw was more nothingness. Though there was nothing as far as I could see, I was standing on something, though I wouldn¡¯t look to see what I was standing on.
I was coming to the conclusion that I was having a dream when I was distracted by a shape resolving in the distance. It started like¡ well, it looked like the ¡°Nothing¡± from the Neverending Story, only made out of darkness that was so dark it stood out against the backdrop of space. Super Darkness, I guess. The clouds began to gain definition, becoming a vaguely humanoid shape.
As soon as the shape became something more detailed, terror struck me like a hammer. It was huge. I suddenly knew this being dwarfed planets and stars like how I dwarfed ants. A ¡°hand¡± manifested and reached for me.
If I could pee I would have.
I could scream.
I did so.
* * *
I became aware of a flare of pain in my cheek.
¡°Oh!¡± Someone said, surprised. ¡°Do you think that¡¯s necessary?¡±
¡°We need him to wake up because I¡¯m not strong enough to hold him down,¡± said another, younger voice, grunting with effort. ¡°I¡¯m trying to see what¡¯s in his mind that got him so worked up, but what I¡¯m seeing doesn¡¯t make sense.¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°Oh right,¡± the second voice muttered. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m¡ª¡° grunt of effort. ¡°Distracted.¡±
I slowly realized I was thrashing and made an effort to calm down. I began to piece myself back together. The second voice was Alice. The first was my mom. I¡ was on the floor.
¡°How long was I out?¡± I asked as I opened my eyes. ¡°Also, ow, fuck, my cheek.¡±
Alice was kneeling on my chest, holding my arms above my head. She let out a sigh and let go of my wrists, slumping off of me. She was breathing hard. I glanced around and saw a dent in the wall by the door that hadn¡¯t been there before.
My mom cast a worried glance at Alice and myself before responding. ¡°A couple of minutes,¡± she said, clutching her hands to her chest. ¡°You t-touched the door and just fainted.¡±
I groaned and rubbed my head and face. I slowly levered myself up into a seated position and shot a lazy glare at Alice. ¡°You slapped the same place I was punched,¡± I accused.
She shrugged. ¡°We¡¯re both right-handed, apparently.¡±
I sighed and gave my mom an apologetic look. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I assured her. ¡°There was¡ well, something happened here.¡±
I ignored the questions my mom began asking and held up my hand for silence as I sorted through the information touching the door knob had given me. What became apparent was that touching anything else in the room would probably be just as dangerous, so I took a moment to re-erect the mental defense against my own psychometry.
My psychometry wasn¡¯t perfect. Usually, when I touch something I get flashes of information, usually presented in a slideshow of images with an undercurrent of instinctual information about what I was seeing. What I got when I touched the door was that someone¡ªor something, had been here and their mere presence was strong enough to blanket everything with their psychic residue. A residue that was so strong it knocked me on my ass.
But other than that, I have no idea what happened to Conner. Something or someone with a presence akin to Alice¡¯s Gran (Not her abuela, someone much older(and a lot more terrifying than the appellation makes it seem)) had come here to kidnap my little brother. A mechanic. Why?
I didn¡¯t want to make this about me, but¡ I mean come on. I had a few enemies, one of which was really, really pissed at me now that I¡¯ve come out on top in direct confrontations twice. Could it have grabbed Conner in a revenge attempt against me?
I made an irritated noise and returned my attention to the room. ¡°Something with an incredibly powerful, ancient, and pervasive aura came through here,¡± I said more to Alice than my mom. ¡°All that¡¯s pretty much all I can get.¡±
Alice scrunched her nose in through. ¡°I can¡¯t really pick up auras,¡± she said. ¡°I have to have a mind to interact with in order to get anything.¡±
I nodded, suspecting as much. I stood up with some help from Alice, which is when her phone made a noise. She pulled it out and read the message.
¡°That¡¯s Guapo,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s on his way, should be here in fifteen minutes.¡±
I looked around the room. ¡°Let¡¯s go wait for him in the car,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t want the building manager to show up with some awkward questions.¡±
My mom agreed heartily. I followed the girls out and locked the door behind me. We decided to take the stairs down, avoiding the temperamental elevator. We passed through the same security door onto the orange streetlight-lit street. It was then I noticed two men standing next to my car, about a dozen yards down the street. The light that had been illuminating the parking space when I had parked was out, but my modified eyes cut through the darkness.
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¡°There are a couple of guys near my car,¡± I said. ¡°You two stay here for a second while I make sure they aren¡¯t trying to steal it.¡±
My mom did a little gasp and clutched her purse to her chest. I glanced at Alice, felt her mind brush mine, and let her inside just enough to let her know my suspicions. I could tell from the way the two men were dressed that they weren¡¯t local.
I clenched my hands into fists anxiously, realizing that I hadn¡¯t replaced my glove after taking it off upstairs. Dammit. This was my backup pair. I put aside my irritation to study the two men as I approached.
The one closest to me was a tall, good-looking black dude, mid-thirties with close-cropped hair. He wore a flower-print dress shirt covered by a leather vest, paired with leather slacks. He had a series of gold rings lining his right ear, connected by a delicate chain. The light was too low for me to tell, but I think his leather dance shoes were a vibrant blue.
His counterpart was caucasion, middle height with an athletic build. He had one of those haircuts I associate with male models in magazines, but haven¡¯t noticed (until now) in real life. He was wearing a more muted version of his friend''s getup, with a white dress shirt and gray vest, and slacks. His dress shoes were white.
¡°Can I help you, fellas?¡± I asked as I stopped about ten feet away from them, at the edge of the light behind me.
¡°Well, that would depend on whether you were Colm Avery, known formerly as Liam Hayes?¡± Said the tall one, approaching.
Fuck.
I help up a hand in a ¡°stop¡± motion. ¡°Why don¡¯t you stay right there,¡± I said with an edge in my voice. ¡°I tend to get frisky when strange men show up to confront me in a place I had only decided to visit less than two hours ago.¡±
The tall man stopped and held up his hands in the ¡°I surrender¡± pose. ¡°No harm meant,¡± he said.
¡°I think this is our guy,¡± the other one said.
¡°I¡¯ve yet to hear what you want,¡± I said.
¡°You haven¡¯t told us if you¡¯re the guy we¡¯re looking for,¡± replied the shorter one.
I gave him a look. Then, remembered not everyone can see in the dark, snorted. ¡°If you can¡¯t tell, I¡¯m giving you a very exasperated look. It¡¯s mixed with the ¡®are you a moron¡¯ look. It has many layers.¡±
The tall one laughed. ¡°This is him,¡± he said to his friend, then turned to me. ¡°We are representatives of the Corvus Concord¡ª¡°
¡°Crow Agreement,¡± I interrupted, nodding. The tall guy¡¯s body language went from amused to irritated real quick. ¡°Or perhaps Raven Contract?¡±
¡°Listen, man,¡± the tall guy said. ¡°You can make this real easy on yourself¡ª¡°
¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯m not real chummy with a couple of assholes who wait next to my car in the middle of the night under a broken street light that wasn¡¯t broken an hour ago, who are doing a really shitty job of pretending to be mob toughs,¡± I interrupted again. Then: ¡°Who haven¡¯t even bothered to introduce themselves.¡±
I waited for one of them to open their mouth before interrupting again. With my future sight, it was pretty easy. ¡°I got your letters,¡± I said. ¡°I got your messages. Since my lack of reply was too subtle: The answer¡¯s no. I don¡¯t want into your little magic society.¡±
¡°That¡¯s not a smart move,¡± said the shorter one, and I had to stop myself from sighing at the classic mobster line. I did catch a wince from his partner, however. ¡°There are a lot of benefits in being part of a larger organization. Being alone has risks.¡±
¡°Now you sound like a protection racket,¡± I said. ¡°Are you guys new? Are you off script?¡±
¡°They aren¡¯t new,¡± Alice said as she came up beside me. ¡°And he¡¯s not alone,¡± this, she directed at the pair.
¡°Alice! Fancy meeting you here,¡± the tall one said with forced joviality.
¡°Church,¡± the shorter one said, like an epithet. I raised an eyebrow at him.
¡°Ade, I thought you would have ditched this dead weight by now,¡± Alice said, ignoring the smaller man. ¡°Every time I see the two of you together, I¡¯m slightly more disappointed.¡±
The tall ones¡ªAde, I assumed¡ªforced cheer deflated abruptly. ¡°Sorry I¡¯m not holding onto your esteem,¡± he said in a flat voice.
¡°You heard his answer,¡± she said, her hand resting on her hip. The seemingly innocent gesture placed her fingers on her chain. I noticed that both men¡¯s eyes had locked onto her hand. ¡°Go intimidate some other Incipient.¡±
Both men raised their eyes to Alice¡¯s, then to mine. ¡°Fine, but before we go,¡± I tensed as the shorter of the two reached into his vest and drew out a letter. He noticed my flinch and smirked at me. Boy, don¡¯t you fucking smirk at me, you were almost a smear on the pavement, I thought as he tossed the letter to me. I caught it with my magic and let it float in front of me to read the front. It was unmarked.
Apparently, my magical display caught them off guard, because both of them were displaying very different body language. Ade¡¯s was more guarded while the shorter of the two seemed agitated. Oh, were they under the impression that I couldn¡¯t defend myself? Suddenly the respect they showed Alice made more sense, and whatever respect I had for their organization plummeted. And it had already been pretty fucking low.
¡°What is this?¡± I asked, still not touching it.
¡°A summons to Elysium,¡± Ade said, his voice a smidge more respectful.
¡°I¡¯m not really interested in the Greek afterlife,¡± I deadpanned.
The shorter one made a disgusted noise. ¡°Explain it to him, Church. We¡¯re leaving.¡±
He spun on his heel and started walking in the other direction. ¡°As first impressions go, this is pretty shit,¡± Ade admitted. ¡°But you really should reconsider. Many practitioners wouldn¡¯t be alive without the Concord.¡±
He turned and began to follow his partner. ¡°Myself included,¡± he said over his shoulder. ¡°See you around, Alice.¡±
I finally reached up and took the letter in my gloved hand, scanning it with my magical senses. There was a faint spell over it, but nothing strong enough to cause harm. I tapped the letter against my thigh a couple of times before turning around and seeing my mom approach.
¡°Who were they?¡± She asked.
¡°Girl Scouts,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re getting really aggressive this year.¡±
My mom gave me a long-suffering look.
I gave her a sad smile. ¡°They¡¯ve been trying to recruit me for something,¡± I said. ¡°I thought it was a Ponzi scheme, but if it is they are really doing the¡ª¡°
¡°I¡¯m not an idiot, Liam,¡± she interrupted, her normally muted voice full of emotion. ¡°I¡¯m dealing with enough with Conner being missing, but being treated like a child is where I draw the line.¡±
I glanced at Alice, who shrugged.
I gave my mom a measuring look. She was glaring at me, lines of her face in stark relief due to the slanted light coming from the street light back in the direction of Conner¡¯s apartment. I noticed that the orange cardigan was beginning to fray, and her clothes were wrinkled. Her knuckles were white from the death grip she had on her purse strap.
I sighed. I stepped forward and drew her into a hug. I felt her release a pent-up sob. I rubbed her back for a minute as her shoulders shook. I felt Alice step away, giving us our privacy.
¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m not trying to make this difficult for you.¡±
I held her while she cried.
Book 2, Chapter 9
¡°Been a hell of a day for you,¡± I said. ¡°Hell, been a few weeks. One son goes missing, the other won¡¯t pick up. When you finally contact one, your husband slugs him, you find out he has magic powers and is being evasive about everything.¡±
My mom nodded and took a step back, looking up at me with tear-strained eyes. ¡°I¡¯m trying to hold it together, but¡ªbut¡ª¡°
¡°But I¡¯m not making it easy,¡± I suggested.
She nodded.
¡°I¡¯ll give you some context,¡± I said. ¡°But I have to keep it brief because we¡¯re Skid Row adjacent and I wanna make sure we aren¡¯t here any longer than we have to be. In fact,¡± I said as I raised my head to look around. ¡°We should probably find a working light to stand under for Guapo¡ª¡°
I saw Alice had done exactly that. I pointed her out to my mom. ¡°Let¡¯s go stand with her,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t feel comfortable leaving her alone over there, no matter how much ass she can kick.¡±
¡°What? She can fight?¡± My mom asked.
¡°She can shoot lightning,¡± I clarified. ¡°No, yeah, I¡¯m being serious,¡± I said to her wide-eyed look. ¡°She lit up the night sky this time fighting a ninja cock-sucker that could teleport around by¡ ugh, I¡¯m still fuzzy on the details. I had to kill him a couple¡ª¡° I almost said ¡®million¡¯ but didn¡¯t want my mom thinking I was being hyperbolic. ¡°¡ªdozen times before we reached a kind of stalemate and he offered to fuck off if I stopped killing him.¡±
¡°You¡¯ve gotten vulgar,¡± my mom complained.
¡°That¡¯s what you comment on?¡± I asked, giving her an incredulous look.
She shrugged helplessly. ¡°You were so polite! Now you¡¯re talking about killing ninjas and shooting lightning and using the f-word!¡±
I laughed, but it had a bitter tinge. ¡°I was polite because if I misbehaved, I¡¯d get hit,¡± I said. As we approached Alice, she brought her phone up to her ear and began a subdued conversation. I could listen in but I was focusing on my mom. ¡°If I had bad grades, I¡¯d get hit. If I maintained eye contact too long, I¡¯d get hit.¡±
With every word, my mom seemed to shrink in on herself. I sighed and got the conversation back on the rails. ¡°Remember when my college had those disappearances? It was right when I dropped out.¡±
She frowned in thought. ¡°Yes,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°I had thought you were one of them, but then you were found passed out in a field or something. You said you had partied too much..?¡±
¡°A lie,¡± I said. ¡°The kids that disappeared were my friends.¡±
Her eyes widened in horror. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say anything? Oh, Liam!¡±
¡°Because they didn¡¯t disappear,¡± I said. ¡°They were murdered. By a monster. Who ate them and almost ate me.¡±
Her horror faded away into an uncertain incredulity. I nodded and pointed at her face. ¡°And that right there is why I didn¡¯t tell you.¡±
She looked hurt for a moment, then did a double-take at my finger. ¡°Your hand!¡±
Shit.
I ran the offending hand through my hair, surprised at how much the nervous tic calmed me. ¡°It¡¯s not frostbite,¡± I said, which is what most people assumed was happening to my hand. The second most common assumption was a thorough full-sleeve tattoo, with painted nails to complete the look. ¡°Look, forget the hand right now. There¡¯s a point I¡¯m trying to make.¡±
My mom made an effort to drag her eyes away from my hand and to my face. I smiled reassuringly.
¡°I made friends in college, Mom,¡± I said. ¡°Actual friends. People I knew that weren¡¯t going to disappear in a few months when Dad took us to another part of the country. For the first time in my life, I was happy, but more importantly, not afraid.¡±
I glanced down the street, not really seeing anything. ¡°I wanted to spend as much time with them as possible because with Dad footing the bill, I was afraid the rug would be pulled out from under me. So when they started to get into Wicca, occultism, and the like, I dove right in. Then we accidentally stumbled onto real magic. We¡ As I assume is the case more often than not, bit off more than we could chew. Only I survived. And in surviving made an enemy.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not the most¡ stable, person,¡± I left the ¡®as you can imagine¡¯ unsaid. ¡°I didn¡¯t handle losing the only friends I had ever had well. I made decisions that, in hindsight, were kinda fucking crazy. I accumulated power¡ª¡°As I said this, I grabbed a nearby soda can from a pile of trash with my magic. I brought it in front of us, startling the shit out of my mother. I lifted my hand and made a crushing motion with it, crushing the can with my magic at the same time to illustrate. I let the can drop at the same time as my hand.
¡°Last year, I had finally calmed down enough¡ª¡° I paused and chuckled ruefully. ¡°Or maybe just got complacent enough¡ªthat I took a break. I went on a cruise. That¡¯s where my enemy found me.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t like talking about that time,¡± I said. ¡°So I¡¯ll just say I had to do a lot of things that I¡¯m not proud of, resulting in a lot of¡ loss.¡± This I said as I studied my ink-black hand. I pushed away the memories of them being covered in blood. I sighed.
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¡°This is all besides the point,¡± I said. ¡°When I¡¯m being evasive, it¡¯s not because I¡¯m trying to be a dick. It¡¯s because I¡¯m dealing with things that are very much not a part of the day-to-day life of the average person and explaining it would just take too fucking long unless you can accept it at face value.¡±
I grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. ¡°So this is the part where you need to be strong, okay? I¡¯m going to be saying a lot of crazy shit that sounds impossible but you just need to roll with it. Because Conner is alive but someone who has abilities like mine is hiding him. We don¡¯t know why and they haven¡¯t contacted you, so ransom¡¯s off the table. I¡¯m scared that he got grabbed because of something having to do with me, and if that¡¯s the case and he gets harmed because of it, I¡ª¡°
I lowered my hands from her shoulders.
¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do,¡± I said in a low voice. ¡°But people will pay.¡±
My mom flinched.
I felt Alice¡¯s attention on me and I looked at her. ¡°Guapo¡¯s looking for a parking space,¡± she said.
I nodded. I stepped off to the side and lit up a cigarette, taking a long drag. I eyed the pack and made a face. Going to have to grab another at some point. I also took off my one glove and put it in my pocket. Having one glove on was kind of pointless.
A minute or two later one of the twins from the party jogged up holding a reinforced briefcase like you see in movies where they are transporting nuclear launch codes. I raised an inquisitive eyebrow at this. Alice waved him over and we started heading for my car.
¡°Sorry it took so long,¡± Guapo said, a little breathy. ¡°They changed security procedures and I had to get Mom on the phone to scare them into letting me take it out.¡±
I glanced at Alice who nodded solemnly, backing up the veracity of the story. Apparently, Mama Martinez is a badass. We gathered around the back of my car as Guapo set the case on the trunk. I felt a tingle of magic as he did something, the latches popping open. He opened it with a little ¡°tadaaaa¡± hand motion.
¡°A shit, it¡¯s dark,¡± he said as he began to fumble for his phone.
¡°I can see fine,¡± I said as I held my hand above the item, seeing if my magical senses could pick anything up.
The item in the case looked like a Native American medicine stick, about two feet long and capped with elk¡ªor more likely, deer antler. Turquoise beads were set in a spiral sequence from the antler down to the base, which was capped in a woven fabric that hugged the shape of the stick. As my hand hovered over it, I could feel a slight magical ambiance that suggested the item had an ongoing effect, rather than something activated.
¡°I forgot the Navajo word for it, but we call it the Blood Stick,¡± Guapo said with a shrug. ¡°While holding it, you can use it to sense the direction of anyone related by blood within a half mile. It¡¯s not a great search radius, but if there¡¯s a magical defense that can block it, the family hasn¡¯t found it in seventy years of use.¡±
¡°No, this is fantastic,¡± I said as I reached into the case and lifted the stick. I felt a tingle go up my arm and suddenly I was aware of my mom, sanding several feet behind us on the sidewalk. The sensation was odd. It wasn¡¯t like I had a magic compass in my head pointing to her, but it¡ it was¡ªHmm. The nearest sensation I could think to liken it to was similar to living in an old house, and getting a feel for it. You just knew when someone was moving around because of the odd moans and clicks of the wood of the house. You knew someone was in the kitchen because the support beam outside your room groaned a bit. The stick imbued a similar sense of knowing. I didn¡¯t know what exactly was telling me my mom was behind me, but I just knew she was there.
I put the stick back in the case. ¡°Thanks, man,¡± I said sincerely. ¡°I appreciate this.¡±
He slapped my shoulder. ¡°De nada,¡± he said. ¡°Give me your hand so I can key you to the case.¡±
I frowned but did as he asked. He touched my hand to the case, I felt another magical tingle and suddenly I knew the case would open when I wanted it to. Neat. He also didn¡¯t react to my hand''s odd coloration. Maybe he couldn¡¯t see it in the low light?
¡°Look, if something happens to it, it¡¯s not a tragedy,¡± he began. ¡°But it is over three hundred years old and belongs to a family friend.¡±
¡°A family friend who hasn¡¯t come to claim it in seventy years?¡± I asked.
¡°He could ask for it back any day!¡± Guapo replied good-naturedly.
I smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll take good care of it.¡±
Guapo held out his hand for a fist bump and I did so.
¡°What do you guys have planned next? Or are you turning in?¡± He turned to Alice. ¡°Do you need a ride home?¡±
Alice looked at me, waiting for my response. I glanced at my mom.
¡°We¡¯ll resume tomorrow,¡± I said after a beat. ¡°It¡¯s been a long day for Mom and I.¡± Plus I didn¡¯t have any fucking leads.
Alice gave me a hug, startling me. ¡°We¡¯ll find him,¡± she said in my ear before holding me at arm''s length, meeting my eyes. ¡°We will.¡±
I nodded, not trusting my voice just then. She gave me a smile before heading off with Guapo. I closed the case and placed it in the back seat. We got in the car and I fired it up. My mom was silent as we merged into traffic.
I glanced at the clock. A little after nine. ¡°Can you Google for a Best Buy or a Target near here? I need to pick something up real quick.¡±
¡°S-sure,¡± my mom said as she pulled her phone out of her purse.
My sure-fire investigative cheat didn¡¯t work, and now I was floundering. Now that I thought about it, I didn¡¯t know much about actual investigations besides what I saw on what little TV I watched as a kid and the cold case podcasts I listened to. I¡¯d always just fondled evidence until I saw something that identified the killer and ran off.
Had that aura been designed to ward off psychic investigations? If it was as pervasive as it seemed, having an aura like that would basically be the magical equivalent of walking around firing a gun in the air while screaming through a megaphone.
Now that I thought about it, if someone went around with that kind of aura, it¡¯d be super easy to track. It¡¯d basically leave a magical/psychic furrow in the natural world until enough time passed to blow it away like tracks in sand. I¡¯d need something to interact with it besides my psychometry however, I can¡¯t risk passing out every time I touched something.
And then there were those two assholes. How the hell had they found me? How had my MOM found me?
¡°Hey,¡± I said to get her attention. ¡°Do you have that PI¡¯s contact info?¡±
¡°Yes,¡± she replied, glancing at me.
¡°Do you mind if I grab that from you when we get to the Hotel? I have a couple questions about Conner I want to float by him,¡± I asked.
¡°No, not at all,¡± she said.
I felt slightly better. Instead of no leads, I had some things I could do to narrow down the search. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was better than the nothing I thought I had when I had parted with Alice and her brother.
Going to sleep felt like a betrayal, but I was ragged. With the anxiety of the doctor''s visit compounded with the family drama on top of Conner¡¯s abduction, I was surprised I wasn¡¯t falling apart mentally. If I kept pushing through it, however, I knew there¡¯d be a crash and then I¡¯d be useless for days. I needed to pace myself.
For Conner.
Book 2, Chapter 10
Luckily we found a Best Buy still open and even luckier found a guy who was happy to sell me a phone and laptop without trying to up-sell me on a bunch of peripherals. I think he had been trying to cut out early when I showed up in his department. Sorry, bro.
¡°What do you need a computer for?¡± My mom asked while we waited for the guy to get the laptop from the back.
¡°I have a friend who¡¯s,¡± I debated lying but figured Perry would understand the situation. ¡°Do you remember Perry Carmen? He was my friend that one semester we were in Ohio.¡±
My mom squinted in thought. ¡°I think so. Did he have that video game you fell in love with? I think you were playing it whenever I went to pick you up.¡±
I was surprised she remembered. ¡°Yes!¡± I said with a smile. ¡°Well, he and I stayed in touch and he ended up in a¡ kind of clandestine profession.¡±
¡°Like a spy?¡± She asked.
¡°Kinda,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s a hacker.¡±
Perry would say the term was a gross oversimplification, but essentially true. His official job on his taxes was ¡°Net Security Consultant¡± but he did everything from white hat jobs, to data mining, to actual illegal hacking. That last bit I¡¯ve never seen and Perry has never admitted to it, but he certainly has never denied it either.
¡°Why do we need a hacker?¡± My mom asked.
I paused as the sales rep came back and took my debit card. He glanced at my hand as he took it. ¡°How long did that take?¡±
Ah, he was one of the people that assumed it was a tattoo. ¡°Several months,¡± I said. ¡°Probably could have done it quicker but after a while, I just don¡¯t want to be stabbed anymore and needed a break between sessions.¡±
He smiled good-naturedly. ¡°I hear ya,¡± he said, rolling up his sleeve and showing off the Superman logo on his bicep. ¡°Just this was three hours.¡±
¡°Nice,¡± I said, hiding my anxiety. I don¡¯t know how what to say about someone¡¯s tattoo. I¡¯ve never gotten one. I know what I¡¯d say if someone showed me their tattoo unprompted, though, which was ¡°nice.¡± My mom was watching this with a wide-eyed expression and I hoped the guy just thought my mother was one of those old white women who hated tattoos and not appalled at my ability to lie off the cuff.
Apparently, I passed muster as the guy rang me up and returned my card with a receipt. He handed me a big back with my laptop and the new phone¡¯s packaging (the phone was already in my pocket). We said a polite goodbye and headed for the car.
¡°Why do we need a hacker?¡± My mom asked when we were out of the store.
I glanced around to make sure there was no one in earshot. ¡°I¡¯m going to ask Perry to look into Conner¡¯s online activity leading up to his disappearance. The cops should be doing that already but I don¡¯t know how fast they can work. I¡¯m pretty sure they need, like, warrants and¡ I actually don¡¯t know. I¡¯m basically going off of movies. What I do know is that Perry is an internet wizard and things like ¡°privacy¡± and ¡°laws¡± are vague ideas to him at best. If there¡¯s something to be found online, he can find it.¡±
My mom had a combined look of dubiousness and worried on her face. ¡°That sounds illegal,¡± she said.
¡°Very,¡± I replied as I put the laptop in the back seat. ¡°It¡¯s better if you don¡¯t ask any more questions in case the cops pull you in for questioning when this is all done.¡±
She gave me a wide-eyed stare as we climbed in the car. I saw her formulate several responses before settling on: ¡°But you could go to jail!¡±
¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I said. Then: ¡°Well, not normal jail. There¡¯s apparently a higher regulatory body for people like me, even if they are a soft touch most of the time. So soft I¡¯ve never heard of them until recently.¡±
¡°What do you mean? ¡®Normal jail?¡¯¡± She was gripping her seat belt.
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I paused my reply as I navigated the parking lot and got back on the road. ¡°Remember when I mentioned I have abilities? One of them makes it so if I don¡¯t want cops to see me, they can¡¯t.¡±
Her incredulity was almost comedic with how severe it was. ¡°Like an anti-cop spell?¡±
I chuckled. ¡°Something like that.¡± It affected everyone, but I can tweak the spell to have more effect on people with authority. How it knew who had authority was something I hadn¡¯t figured out yet. It was just one of those things you say ¡°¡¯cause magic¡± to with a comically exaggerated shrug.
We were silent for a while. Me, focusing on driving in the unfamiliar city and my mom wrestling with the day. I was mildly surprised when she spoke up again.
¡°How does one¡ªhow do you get magic?¡± She asked. ¡°I assume it isn¡¯t easy or it¡¯d be everywhere.¡±
I nodded. ¡°True,¡± I said. ¡°Though I think the main reason magic isn¡¯t well known is because of Christianity. I hear in the East, real magic is less hidden and more of a ¡®kind-of¡¯ open secret. So you¡ª¡°
¡°Christianity?¡± My mom asked, alarmed. Fuck. I haven¡¯t spent time around her in years and forgot that she went to Church every Sunday. ¡°What does Christianity have to do with it?¡±
¡°Aside from the whole ¡®Thou Shall Not Suffer a Witch to Live¡¯ thing,¡± I began, glancing at her from time to time to judge her reaction. ¡°Christianity has, over the centuries, made great strides to either absorb or eradicate everything considered ¡®spiritual.¡¯ The Pagans and Crusades are the biggest examples I could cite without thinking too hard. From what I¡¯ve picked up from Alice, who is much more educated in the current ¡®public¡¯ face of the magical community, magic being a secret is mostly just an old survival instinct burned into the magical community from hiding from witch hunts and Inquisitions. Some people in the community have very long lives, and for them, these habits are very real tools that have kept them alive.¡±
I waved my hand, dismissing the topic. ¡°But that¡¯s beside the point. To answer your question: There are a lot of different ways. I learned magic by being exposed to it.¡± And then doing it wrong for eight years. Plus bartering powers for souls. I held back a wince.
¡°That¡ incident, you told me about,¡± she said.
¡°Yeah,¡± the wheel made some noise as my grip tightened on it. I forced myself to relax. ¡°Though that was just the one that went bad. We did a lot of other, more benign things.¡±
¡°Like what?¡± My mom asked, sounding genuinely curious.
I generally didn¡¯t like to think about that time, with how it ended¡ but up until that horrible night, it had been the best time of my life. A smile slowly formed on my face as I got onto the freeway.
¡°Mary was trying to get a far-seeing spell to work,¡± I said. ¡°We thought we were doing it right but everything came out blurry. We could sometimes tell based on the colors and general shapes that we were looking at what we targeted, but it was useless. We gave up on the spell until John had a thought. He was really into astronomy, and¡ I don¡¯t remember the explanation, something about focal length and light diffusion and lenses. He worked with Mary to tweak the spell, made it larger¡ª¡° I gestured at the steering wheel. ¡°Usually when the spell was written out it was about as big as this wheel. This time he shoved all his furniture into the corner of his studio and took up the whole floor with it.¡±
I let out a sigh. A happy one.
¡°We looked at Alpha Centauri.¡±
I changed lanes to get around a semi.
¡°I dunno what they did but it was beautiful. It wasn¡¯t like looking through a window or a telescope. It was like someone had photo-realistically painted the star in the air, hovering over the floor of that shitty studio apartment. It wasn''t super bright, either, like they had applied a filter so we could look at it with the naked eye. For three minutes it was one of the most amazing things I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±
¡°What happened then?¡± My mom asked.
I shot her a glance, smirking in amusement.
¡°Someone forgot to carry a one or something because they fucked up the spell and it started to burn the floor. John got evicted when the landlord saw the burns in the hardwood.¡±
My mom put a hand over her mouth. ¡°Oh no!¡±
I chuckled. ¡°I knew John for the better part of two years, and that was one of the three times he was evicted,¡± I let out a rueful laugh. ¡°He had a wild streak in him... Also a hatred for cleaning.¡± I added after a beat.
We kept up the light conversation until we hit the hotel. It felt nice. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever just talked to my mom before. I called her every month but that was mostly to let her know I was still alive and to listen to what was going on in her life. I went into every check-in with the hope that she had decided to leave my dad.
I got her a room a couple of doors down from mine and said goodnight. When I got to my room I spent a few minutes started up the laptop, connecting to the hotel Wi-fi and downloading the few chat apps I¡¯d need to contact Perry. Because I wasn¡¯t doing it via my regular means I had to jump through a few hoops that I barely remembered.
I was supposed to go to create a new Discord account under a certain name, join a certain public server, go to a certain channel, and do a certain message. Then I was supposed to send an email with no body, but a subject with a specific message.
I don¡¯t know what any of this accomplished. What little I knew of the internet made me think that almost every communication was filtered one way or another through the government so these rudimentary attempts at subterfuge wouldn¡¯t do a lot if someone really wanted to intercept our communication. For all I knew Perry just demanded it so I wouldn¡¯t come to him with minor troubles¡ now that I thought about it, that was likely the case.
With my two messages fired away, I took a shower and got ready for bed. Tomorrow would be a big day.
Book 2, Chapter 11
¡°Colm! Colm wake the fuck up!¡±
I shuddered awake, incredibly confused. How had Alice gotten into my hotel room? I blinked blearily at her and realized that we were not in my hotel room. I was also dressed. I sleep in my undies so that was weird. It was also the middle of the day. What the fuck is going on?
¡°What the fuck is going¡ª¡° I began, but an automatic weapon went off next to me and I recoiled into a ball before casting a glance over my shoulder to see the hottest thing ever.
Ida crouched next to me. We were in what looked like a mall food court, hiding behind a¡ terrarium? What do you call those things in malls that have a bunch of plants and a few trees? Anyway, we were hiding behind one of those things and Ida was leaning out with my MP5, firing off ten to fifteen rounds before returning to cover. She was wearing a loose teal tank top that showed off her impressively muscled arms and her black sports bra. Her black capri pockets were bulging with the extra magazines from my trunk. She glanced back at me.
¡°Are you alright?¡± She asked.
¡°What the fuck is happening!?¡± I yelled, scrambling for my waist. My hands thankfully found my Webley where it was supposed to be and I yanked it free.
¡°Their leader cast some mental spell and you took it on by yourself,¡± Alice said, raising behind cover with her chain in hand and sending a lightning bolt at our unseen adversaries. ¡°Which was really fucking stupid because I¡¯m a mind mage you fucking idiot.¡±
I was panicking. ¡°The last thing I remember was going to bed after searching Conner¡¯s apartment.¡±
Alice¡¯s reply was cut off as a hail of bullets tore into our cover, and we all (except for me, because I was already there) flattened ourselves to the floor. Once the gunfire died down she shot me a look. ¡°You don¡¯t remember anything since then?¡±
¡°Not a thing!¡± I said, raising up a little bit and stealing a glance at who was shooting at us.
I dropped down and gave Alice an incredulous look.
¡°I¡¯m just as confused as you are,¡± she said.
The people attacking us were wearing robes with kris daggers hanging from their waists. They were all holding some form of firearm, aside from their apparent leader. He had been behind cover so the only thing I could see of him was an impressive headdress and what looked like a scepter.
We were being attacked by cultists. Cultists right out of a D&D campaign.
¡°Was the prick with the hat the one that cast the spell?¡± I asked.
¡°Oui,¡± Ida said, pulling a new magazine from her pocket and replacing the spent one in her gun. ¡°At least, he was the one waving his arms around and shouting right before it happened.¡± Alice nodded.
¡°How the hell did you get a submachine gun in a food court?¡± I asked after a beat.
¡°Is that really important right now¡ª¡° Alice began.
¡°I said I missed having one when we were in that bar with the pinball machines, and you gave me the one you had in your trunk in a magic gym bag,¡± Ida said, pulling the cocking lever on the gun. I finally noticed the empty bag on the ground by her feet. She leaned forward and gave me a kiss on my cheek. ¡°It was very sweet.¡±
Then she leaned out and fired off three quick bursts, which were effective if the accompanying cries of pain were anything to go by.
Fuck yeah, Past Colm.
My emotions were a maelstrom, the primary one being confusion. Rising right up next to it was anger. I harnessed my magic into a pane of force in front of me. I made it thick and slightly porous. Just behind that pane I made a solid wall of force and stood from behind cover. Ida swore and tried to drag me down but I wasn¡¯t going to be stopped. I lifted the Webley, sighted on the planter the headdress asshole was hiding behind, and pulled the trigger.
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A scream from a nightmare combined with the roar of a lion, with the volume of a jet engine exploded from the end of my gun. A fist-sized red line of pure malice cut through the intervening space between me and the planter and slammed into it. The planter shattered and burst like it had been shot by a tank. A small tank, but still, tank. I felt defensive magics enact and then fail as the concussive force buffeted the cultist and sent him flying into a bunch of chairs and tables.
The cultists stared in shock for a heartbeat before orienting on me and opening fire.
Have you ever been shot at? Have you ever been shot at and knew you were not behind cover and there was a high probability you were about to be shot? If you have, you know what a fucking terror-filled moment that is. If you haven¡¯t you can probably imagine. It¡¯s a very unique experience I wouldn¡¯t wish on most people.
The bullets slammed into my telekinesis and traveled for an inch or two before shattering. The pieces hung in the air in front of me, each bullet blooming into a pattern about an inch or two wide as they struck the second pane, before being arrested by the first porous pane I had erected.
Fuck you, assholes. I¡¯m Neo.
I trained my gun on another cultist. He seemed to get the message and instantly turned and ran. The morale of the squad shattered and they all broke cover and started running en masse. I lowered my gun and carefully put it back in its holster. I kept the shield up long enough to make sure none of the cultists would decide to die fighting or take a few shots while they ran away.
¡°Holy shit, Colm,¡± Alice said.
I glanced at her, seeing a slightly troubled expression on her face. Get over it, Alice. I was done with half measures. A glance at Ida revealed an impressed expression.
¡°So that is the gun you were talking about,¡± she said.
I let the shields drop and rubbed my temple with my left hand. While Circe¡¯s method protected me from the typical feedback one gets from ¡°wild¡± casting, it still produces it¡¯s own form via mental strain. Far less dangerous and debilitating, but still troublesome if you go overboard.
¡°What day is it?¡± I asked, still in the middle of my own little memory crisis. ¡°Please tell me I didn¡¯t lose years.¡±
¡°It¡¯s Wednesday,¡± Alice said.
We went to the party, to the doctor, to Conner¡¯s apartment on Saturday. I had lost three days.
I started breathing heavily. I felt my pulse skyrocket.
Ida sidled up to me and squeezed my wrist, before moving her hand down and lacing her fingers between my own. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll help you.¡±
¡°Yes, we will,¡± Alice said. ¡°But we should probably scarper before the cops show up.¡±
¡°That reminds me,¡± I began. ¡°Where are all the people?¡± This was a food court; there should be people.
¡°That¡¯s what tipped us off about the attack,¡± Alice said. ¡°I should have noticed it, but you two being all lovey-dovey was distracting as hell. Ida noticed it first.¡±
Ida nodded. ¡°I noticed that people were leaving quickly in groups,¡± she said, glancing around. ¡°When I noticed the staff doing the same, I pointed it out to you, and you said there was an attention something happening.¡±
¡°Attention ward,¡± Alice said. ¡°And then we sensed a big spell about to go off and you jumped in front of it like a fucking moron.¡±
I nodded in understanding but latched onto one part of the story. ¡°Lovey-dovey?¡± I mouthed.
Her expression fell. ¡°Ah,¡± she said, softly. ¡°You do not remember.¡±
She began to remove her hand from mine but I held on. ¡°No, no,¡± I said. ¡°I can catch up. This is a lovely development.¡±
She beamed a smile at me, before really attempting to let go. ¡°We really should get moving though,¡± she said.
I nodded enthusiastically and let her hand go, gathering my magic again. I hardened it into a point and began etching symbols and lines into the floor. ¡°Go see if any of those guys survived,¡± I said. ¡°We can interrogate them with Alice¡¯s mind mojo.¡±
Alice nodded and ran off to the other end of the food court. Ida started gathering her spent brass and tossing it into her bag. ¡°What are you doing?¡± She asked.
I split my attention and swept the area with my TK, gathering all the brass into one spot for her (along with a bunch of cracked tiles, dirt, and plant matter from the beat-up terrarium thing). ¡°A hex that¡¯ll wipe all electronic data in the area clean in a few minutes. I don¡¯t want to set it off right now and have us all get new phones, but I don¡¯t want the cops to get a look at us on the CCTV.¡±
Ida frowned, no doubt trying to reconcile the necessity with her old profession. She scooped up the final bits of brass into the bag and dumped her gun into it. She then went around and wiped down everything we might have touched while I finished up the ward. Just then Alice came jogging back. ¡°Uh, soooo,¡± she began.
I turned and raised an eyebrow.
¡°They, kinda¡ª¡°she made a vague gesture with her hands. ¡°Melted?¡±
¡°What?¡± Ida and I said in unison.
¡°They just melted,¡± she said. ¡°There were robes, guns and knives, and puddles of brackish liquid. Does your gun fucking melt people?¡±
¡°Just a lot of kinetic force,¡± I said. ¡°Though this was my first time shooting it at a person. Didn¡¯t liquefy the deer I shot.¡±
I started the hex and waved everyone after me, then paused. ¡°I hope you ladies remembered where we parked,¡± I said. I tried to have a humorous delivery but it came out more strained than I had intended.
Ida took my hand again and squeezed. Alice nodded and took the lead, heading for the stairs. We could hear sirens in the distance.
¡°Also,¡± I said after a tense silence. ¡°Since when do you say ¡®scarper?¡¯¡±
¡°What?!¡± Alice said, defensively. ¡°It¡¯s a fun word! I¡¯ve been watching a lot of British crime dramas.¡±
Book 2, Chapter 12
¡°Okay, so run it back for me,¡± I said once we were driving. Some cops drove past us but didn¡¯t give us a second glance because of the wards on my car. ¡°How the fuck did we end up in a food court being attacked by nerds in cosplay?¡±
Alice was at the wheel because I didn¡¯t remember where we were and it¡¯d be smarter to have someone drive who knew where we needed to go than to feed me directions in my understandably confused state.
¡°Well,¡± Alice began, taking a turn hard enough to make me grab the handle above my seat. She drives faster than I do, Jesus Christ. ¡°After we went to your brother¡¯s place and you got knocked out by whatever was there, you contacted your hacker friend.¡±
¡°I remember that part,¡± I said.
¡°He looked into Conner¡¯s online activity and saw that there was some unusual activity, not in Conner¡¯s online interactions but in certain groups having an interest in him,¡± she said. ¡°Which led us up North¡ªoh, we¡¯re in Seattle, by the way,¡± she added as an afterthought. I threw up my hands in the ¡°of course¡± pose.
¡°Merde!¡± Ida said in the back seat as Alice made another sharp turn. ¡°Concentrate on driving!¡± she growled before I felt her attention shift to me. ¡°Initially your friend thought it was just something Conner was involved in that got the attention of these groups but, when he forwarded the data to us, I asked him to see if they were focusing on anyone else. He had to stop his investigation because the FBI or some other organization tried to track him down as soon as he broadened his search, and he reasoned he stumbled onto a major ongoing investigation. He forwarded what little data he got before they came down on him and hasn¡¯t responded since. That was Monday.
¡°We followed several leads in the Seattle area, mostly connected to a criminal organization known as the Thirty-Threes. A motorcycle club, I think. We didn¡¯t get anything substantial until we hit a bar they used as a front and hangout, where Alice discovered with her telepathy they had a kidnapped woman in the basement. You¡ got violent.¡±
There was a pause. I ran back the timeline and nodded thoughtfully.
¡°Two or three days without news on Conner, and a justifiable outlet,¡± I said in a low voice. ¡°I was probably going batshit with worry.¡±
¡°They had it coming,¡± Alice said, her voice flat.
¡°The woman, Sandra,¡± Ida continued. ¡°They¡ªshe wasn¡¯t in any shape to be interrogated, but Alice did something to calm her down and she gave a description of someone who might be your brother before she was separated. We couldn¡¯t get any more information from her but you took some of her blood on a rag and said we needed to pick up a few things. We called the cops, watched from the car to make sure they got her into an ambulance, and then went to the mall as it was the closest place that had all the things you need.¡±
I glanced in the back seat, not seeing any supplies besides my laptop and the case with the blood stick Guapo had given me. ¡°I guess we decided to eat first,¡± I said.
¡°And that¡¯s when they attacked,¡± Alice supplied. ¡°Do you have any idea what you wanted from the mall? Because you get kinda quiet when you¡¯re pissed.¡±
Ida made a noise of agreement from the backseat.
I searched my pocket and found the rag Ida had mentioned. It had a smear of blood on it. What would I do with this? We already knew where the woman was, we needed to know where she had been. So¡ª
¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah, I think I know what I was thinking. I was probably quiet for other reasons.¡±
¡°Oh?¡± Alice said, drawing out the word with dread.
¡°Yeah, I needed the stuff for a summon.¡±
Alice¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°Colm,¡± she said like a mother chiding her son for sticking a toy up his nose again for the sixth time.
¡°It¡¯s a safe one,¡± I said quickly. ¡°Mostly.¡±
* * *
It took four stops to get everything I needed. Copper tubing, two packages of Maruchan Ramen, a microwave, an outdoor generator, a bowl, a gallon of water, and a quilted pillow. We found a vacant lot that was obscured by trees on the edge of the city and began to set up. Alice and I had walked around the property hexing any security or cameras while Ida brought out the stuff from the car.
¡°You bought a laptop and a phone, as well,¡± Ida said as she poured gasoline into the generator. ¡°You never mentioned what you do for a living?¡±
¡°I always change the subject when it¡¯s brought up, too,¡± I said, glancing at her. But if we¡¯re going to be dating, I thought, I should probably air the dirty laundry before it can really stink. ¡°I, uh, cheat at cards. Not something I can really talk about.¡±
Alice barked a laugh from where she was laying down the copper tubing. ¡°So THAT¡¯S how you know how to make a luck charm! You fuckin¡¯ cheat!¡±
I felt my face heat up a bit. I was distracted by my embarrassment, which made me use too much force on the copper tube I was bending into shape. I straightened out the kink as much as I could before deciding to toss it aside and grab another.
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Ida stood up, frowning. Today she was wearing a denim jacket over a white t-shirt, black jeans, and combat boots. Her black hair was up in a tail with her bangs slightly framing her eyes. She put down the gas can and put the cap back on the generator intake. ¡°Like counting cards?¡± She asked. ¡°But with magic?¡±
I shook my head, placing a finished pipe in the pile. I looked at Alice¡¯s progress and decided to make a few extra, just in case. ¡°There¡¯s a couple of spells that enhance luck,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s the layman''s explanation, but that¡¯s the result it achieves. Doesn¡¯t do much in situations other than games, however, because of how it works.¡±
¡°How does it work?¡± Ida asked as she grabbed some of the finished tubes and brought them over to Alice.
¡°You familiar with the concept of Feng Shui?¡± I asked, receiving a nod. ¡°It¡¯s similar, but instead of aligning energies to be more positive, it straight up nudges things to go how the caster of the spells wants. If the caster wants higher cards, it¡¯ll nudge cards along during a shuffle so that they are more likely to be dealt to him. If he wants his opponent to fold, that person may suddenly feel a drop in confidence.¡±
¡°How does it do that?¡± Ida asked.
¡°If that was known, it¡¯d be science and not magic,¡± Alice said. ¡°It¡¯s a really tough spell to learn, too. A lot of subtlety involved.¡± She gave me an appraising look.
I shrugged, uncomfortable at the implied compliment. I¡¯ve never been able to take them well.
After a bit, Alice called me over to check her work. We¡¯d spent many nights talking shop over the phone and she¡¯d adopted many of my improvements to summoning circles but hadn¡¯t really had a reason to practice them until now.
I looked it over and gave her a nod. ¡°Looks great,¡± I said as I crossed to the southeast part of the circle. ¡°But you gotta adjust the wall symbol to be slightly giving if you have an electric item in the circle, or it¡¯ll lose power during the summon.¡±
¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t have thought of that,¡± Alice said. ¡°I¡¯ve never used an appliance as payment before.¡±
Alice was also sporting a jacket, though hers was a tighter fit and made of black leather. Under it were her golden necklaces over her faded Nirvana shirt. Her chain was once again around her waist, through the loops of her shredded jeans. If you feathered her hair, she might look like a cast member of Grease. She even wore a pair of Chuck Taylor¡¯s.
¡°Technically the Ramen is the payment,¡± I said. ¡°The entity just has very particular tastes.¡±
I had buried an extension cord under the circle, with one end exposed in the center and the other emerging next to the generator. I placed the microwave in the center, plugged it in, filled a bowl with water, and placed one package of noodles inside but used two flavor packets. I put the bowl in the microwave and closed the door. I then carefully placed the quilted pillow in the exact center of the top of the microwave.
¡°Can you start the generator?¡± I asked Ida.
She nodded and fired it up. It was one of the models with the lever handle you had to pump several times to get it going. Once the light on the microwave came on I programmed it for HIGH for five minutes and hopped outside the circle.
Ida came up to me and put her arm through mine, leaning into me. ¡°When does it start?¡±
¡°Already did when I left the circle,¡± I said. ¡°Though he won¡¯t answer the call until the ramen is done.¡±
¡°Five minutes is a long time for ramen,¡± Alice commented.
¡°He likes it mushy,¡± I said with a frown.
¡°Gross,¡± Ida and Alice said.
After a minute: ¡°And this is safe?¡± Ida asked.
¡°Summoning is never safe,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s always a certain risk. Having said that; this is probably the least dangerous entity I know how to contact.¡±
She shifted, reaching toward her back where she had one of my 1911s in her waistband. I felt her grip on my arm loosen as she got ready for action. ¡°Should I be ready?¡±
¡°We¡¯re protected,¡± I said. ¡°I said the thing about every summon being dangerous because it¡¯s the mentality I¡¯ve had to adopt¡ Similar to how people are taught to assume every gun is loaded and to never point it at anything you don¡¯t want to shoot. Summoning is dangerous, but if you do it right you mitigate the danger.¡±
Ida thought about this for a moment before relaxing and leaning into me again.
¡°Should probably be on your toes, though,¡± Alice said, one hand on her chain.
I hummed in agreement. Ida noticed my hand was resting on my Webley, under my shirt. She sighed and took a step away from me (aw, dammit), drawing her pistol and holding it relaxed, next to her thigh.
When the timer counted down to zero, the microwave beeped. On the second beep, the microwave burst into motion, hopping into the air and folding into itself like a transformer. One second there was a brand new Kenmore microwave and the next there was a little junkyard robot man with a pillow for a head. Ida raised her gun but I put a hand on it to stop her from firing.
The little man-that-used-to-be-a-microwave(plus pillow) made chewing sounds, his stomach convulsing. He let out a contented humming sound like he was eating his favorite thing in the world.
¡°Colm,¡± the little metal and plastic man said, his voice scratchy like a lifelong smoker. ¡°Who¡¯re your friends? You finally take my advice?¡±
¡°No one you need concern yourself with,¡± I said. It was hard to know where to look, because when he spoke, his ¡°stomach¡± moved like lips, even though there was no opening. But there were two wrinkles in the pillow that suggested eyes. This is probably my fifth time summoning the little guy and I just defaulted to looking at the pillow. ¡°And no one should take dating advice from you.¡±
The little monster shrugged. ¡°Your loss,¡± he said. ¡°You lookin¡¯ to borrow Bogo?¡±
I nodded. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°I promise to get him two Big Macs and a McFlurry.¡±
¡°No McFlurry this time,¡± the little man said with a shake of his pillow. ¡°He¡¯s developed lactose intolerance or something and he made a fuckin¡¯ mess when I got him back last time. Get him a cookie or something else. No chocolate.¡±
¡°A sugar cookie,¡± I said.
¡°Yeah, deal,¡± The little man said. ¡°Thanks for the ramen.¡±
And then he collapsed into a pile of scrap with a pillow on top of it.
There was a moment of silence.
¡°Well,¡± Alice said, turning toward me. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting that.¡±
¡°Aren¡¯t you glad I didn¡¯t spoil the surprise?¡± I asked with a smile.
Ida snorted, tucking her pistol into her jeans. ¡°You had me pull my pistol for that?¡±
¡°You practice good habits all the time,¡± I said, turning and looking at the trees. ¡°Not just when they¡¯re convenient.¡±
Ida rolled her eyes and took my hand again. ¡°What¡¯s a Bogo? Sounded like you two were talking about a dog.¡±
¡°Funny you should say that,¡± I said, spotting movement in the trees.
Sprinting into the vacant lot was a golden retriever. But it wasn¡¯t any golden retriever, it was like someone took every golden retriever and concentrated them into peak golden retriever. When you saw this dog, you saw the goodest fucking boy to have ever existed. This dog was such peak dog, looking at him made your heart melt and eyes water.
Then he barked.
A seam appeared on his lower jaw and between his eyes, split him down to just behind where the heart would be on a normal dog, and opened up showing teeth placed like theater seating, where each chair was a fang in this thing''s mouth.
And just like that, it was the goodest boy again. No sign that it was half mouth.
¡°Ladies,¡± I said, stopping Ida from drawing her gun again. ¡°Meet Bogo.¡±
Book 2, Chapter 13
¡°What the fuck is it?¡± Alice asked, taking a step back.
Bogo gave another bark, exposing his impossible mouth before running up to me with his tail-a-wagging. ¡°Hey there Bogo,¡± I said and knelt down, scratching him behind the ears. I made sure to be careful with my new nails. ¡°Remember, when you¡¯re up here you gotta do the quiet barks so you don¡¯t scare the locals.¡±
Bogo looked contrite and made a small ¡°boof¡± noise.
¡°That¡¯s a good boy,¡± I said, patting his side vigorously.
¡°Seriously, what the fuck is that,¡± Alice said.
Bogo gave her a look that seemed to say, ¡°Really? I¡¯m right here.¡±
I turned and looked at Alice. She was standing back, her stance wide and her hands on the chain around her waist. I determined I needed to calm her down before she electrified the not-dog.
¡°Don¡¯t know what he is, to be honest,¡± I said, still petting the maybe-dog behind the ears. ¡°All I know is that he¡¯s well-behaved, sweet as a puppy, and the best-damned tracker I¡¯ve ever heard of.¡± Bogo shook in excitement at the praise. ¡°So please relax so he can do his job.¡±
Alice let go of her chain but didn¡¯t relax her stance. It¡¯ll have to do. I turned back to Bogo and fished the rag out of my pocket for him.
¡°Alright buddy, I got a different kind of job for you this time,¡± I said. ¡°We aren¡¯t hunting a bad guy this time.¡± Bogo turned his head to the side in the classic dog body language of Curious. ¡°We need to find where the lady whose blood this belongs to has been. Do you think you can do that? Track where she came from?¡±
Bogo made a small ¡°boof¡± noise and spun in a circle. ¡°Right on, buddy,¡± I said, holding out the rag for him.
Bogo slammed his nose into my palm, dead center of the bloodstain. He sniffed and sniffed and sniffed like he was trying to set a speed record for breathing. He finished his sniff sprint with a final, deep inhale, his face splitting slightly to reveal his big mouth for a moment before he spun around and pointed south.
¡°Got the scent, boy?¡± I asked.
¡°Boof!¡±
¡°This is adorable,¡± Ida said. ¡°In a weird way.¡±
* * *
We piled into the car. Alice was at the wheel again because Bogo needed to be up in front to navigate and she refused to touch him. Alice and I were both too big to sit in the back comfortably so Ida took one for the team once again and sat in the back while Bogo sat in my lap.
The trip was weird for its normalness. Bogo directed us down interstate 5 all day, his head pressed to the small opening I had made in the window. Bogo wanted the window all the way down but that made conversation impossible with the speeds Alice drove. She pushed my little four-cylinder for all it was worth, rarely dropping under a hundred miles an hour unless traffic got bad. Only one cop noticed us. I figured he must have had particularly high willpower because he gave chase for all of two miles before Alice had me hold the steering wheel while she stared into the rear-view mirror unblinking for 30 seconds. The result was the cop broke off and pulled a Uey like he was responding to a bank robbery.
¡°What¡¯d you do?¡± I asked.
¡°Made him think his wife was cheating on him,¡± she said as she resumed driving.
¡°You read his mind?¡± Ida asked.
¡°No, just planted a thought,¡± Alice said, swerving around a station wagon.
¡°How did you know he was married?¡± Ida asked.
¡°Didn¡¯t.¡±
There was a silent moment as Ida and I processed that.
¡°He¡¯s going to be really confused if he isn¡¯t,¡± I said.
Aside from that little adventure, there wasn¡¯t much excitement. One can only be scared of Alice¡¯s driving for so long before you either have a heart attack or become inured to it. If it wasn¡¯t for Conner¡¯s life hanging over my head, I might have enjoyed it. A road trip with my two friends. Hell, we should take a real road trip once this was over. I couldn''t even listen to music with how worried I was.
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¡°Can¡¯t he, like, tell us where to go? So we can fly?¡± Alice asked about an hour after sunset.
Bogo made a grumbly noise. He had picked up that Alice wasn¡¯t too keen on him and he wasn¡¯t taking it well. I scratched his ears.
¡°He needs access to the air the person traveled through, as far as I know,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s not really smelling the air so much as following a psychic trail. He can¡¯t tell us where the trail goes the same way a bloodhound doesn¡¯t know the exact location of the person he¡¯s tracking. Plus, he can¡¯t talk.¡±
¡°Boof,¡± Bogo said, sadly.
¡°I know you do your best, buddy,¡± I said, giving him a pat.
¡°I know he can¡¯t talk,¡± she said. ¡°But he¡¯s pretty smart. I figured we could get a Thomas Guide and he can point at it or something.¡±
¡°If only,¡± I said. ¡°I know of an entity that does something similar, but it only takes payments in human organs.¡±
¡°So, road trip,¡± Ida said.
¡°Road trip,¡± I replied.
¡°Boof.¡±
My memories started to come back, to my immense relief. Just snatches and impressions. The biggest memory to return was how Ida and I had initiated our relationship. It was fragmented and I only got a few moments, but what I could pick out was I said something along the lines of ¡°Oh my God I missed you¡± and the next thing I knew we were making out while waiting for her stuff in the luggage terminal.
I had built it up in my head like a scenario from a movie, where we flirted here and there and then confessed our attraction during an action scene or something. Nope. Just a year of long-distance flirting and some public make-outs while Alice pretended to dry-heave in the background.
When it got too late and we were all flagging, we stopped for the night about ten miles outside Bakersfield at a little roadside motel that looked better put together than the average Motel 6. The girls went to arrange for our rooms while I took Bogo for a walk to stretch his legs. While I¡¯ve never seen him poop, he does pee. And I needed to take him pretty far away as his piss is highly caustic and I didn¡¯t want to have to explain why my dog was pissing paint thinner to anyone. Ida was waiting for us when I got back to the motel.
I gave Bogo one more pet. ¡°Have a good night, buddy,¡± I said before walking over to Ida.
¡°Boof,¡± he said, hopping up on the hood of my car with surprising daintiness. He walked in a circle before lying down with his head on his paws.
¡°He is just¡ going to sleep on the car?¡± Ida asked, amused.
I nodded, tiredly. ¡°He likes to sleep on something heavy,¡± I said. ¡°Or maybe dense? Most of what I know about him is from observation.¡±
¡°What if it rains?¡± Ida asked.
¡°Oh, he¡¯ll love that,¡± I said. ¡°I really hope it doesn¡¯t rain because it¡¯s hard for him to remain incognito when he¡¯s excited.¡±
She gave an amused smile before lifting up a room key with a jingle. ¡°Come,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re in room eight.¡±
My heart skipped a beat. ¡°We¡¯re¡± in room eight. She caught the look on my face and took my hand in hers. ¡°Any more memories come back?¡± She asked as we walked down the length of the building.
¡°A few,¡± I said. ¡°But it¡¯s like like I¡¯m being handed random puzzle pieces and trying to figure out what picture they make.¡±
She squeezed my hand. ¡°But it¡¯s a good sign, yes? It looks like they will return to normal.¡±
¡°A very good sign,¡± I said.
We were traveling light. We each had a change of clothes, a jacket, and some toiletries. Alice had taught me a spell you could draw with water onto clothes that would clean them in ten minutes, which is apparently how we¡¯ve been doing laundry. Unless I get those memories back overnight, she was going to have to teach it to me again. Ida unlocked the door and I saw my travel bag on the bed next to hers.
¡°We need to talk a bit before we sleep,¡± she said, pulling me towards the bed. She sat down and patted the space next to her. I sat down with her.
¡°Have you remembered our conversation?¡± She asked. ¡°About¡ what is happening to you?¡±
She pulled up my hand, her fingers still entwined in mine. She touched the black skin of my hand with her finger to illustrate.
¡°No, but I can imagine,¡± I said. ¡°I was worried about the possibility of contagion, wasn¡¯t I?¡±
She nodded. ¡°I just wanted to make sure we won¡¯t do something we¡¯d regret,¡± she said slowly. ¡°Whatever that may be. The good news is you called your doctor and she said ¡®over-the-clothes stuff¡¯ is fine.¡±
Oh right. The doctor! With everything going on, I had forgotten about her. Jesus, shouldn¡¯t she have called me? I patted my pockets but only found the phone I had picked up at Target. ¡°First: that¡¯s funny and slightly embarrassing but completely fine. Thank you,¡± I said, squeezing her hand. ¡°Second: do you know where my phone is? She was supposed to call me with my blood results.¡±
She gave me a smile to my first statement which turned into a thoughtful frown at my question. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen it since you called her.¡±
¡°When was that?¡± I asked.
¡°Sunday night,¡± she said. ¡°When it became apparent that things might get¡ ah, heated.¡±
With her accent, she pronounced ¡°heated¡± without the H sound, which I found adorable and highly attractive. There was an awkward moment when we both became aware that we wanted to tear each other¡¯s clothes off, but didn¡¯t because we¡¯re responsible adults. And then the moment went longer because we both looked at each other hungrily and thought ¡°What¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡± The silence became very uncomfortable until Ida finally shook herself and stood.
¡°Maybe it¡¯s in your bag?¡± She asked, letting go of my hand.
Thank you for being the voice of reason, Ida.
Also: Dammit. I mean, yes, definitely, we should be smart about this. We don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on with my body. We need to be super-duper-safe. And, knowing me, if Ida and I did the deed while my brother was missing/in danger I know my stupid brain would compound the guilt I already felt, so it was a smart move all around to wait until later to get intimate. But all the same¡
Dammit.
Book 2, Chapter 14
With Ida¡¯s help, I tracked down my other phone and found I had several messages from my mom and two from the doc. The messages from Mom were what I¡¯d expected, mostly her being worried about me not picking up and if I had any more news on Conner. I¡¯d call her back in the morning.
The first message from the doctor was from her receptionist, saying that my blood results were in and that the cage had been prepared. I had completely forgotten about that. The second one was from the doctor herself, telling me I should call her as soon as possible. Uh-oh.
I called back but got the answering machine. I sighed and left a message that I¡¯d be calling back as soon as I woke up.
After that Ida and I spent a little bit chatting until we both started yawning. We got comfy, snuggled, and fell asleep in each other¡¯s arms.
I dreamed.
* * *
I was in space again. This time, on the surface of the moon. I had that weird dreaming quality where I knew something wasn¡¯t right but I wasn¡¯t quite lucid yet. I hopped up and down to test the gravity and was disappointed when I discovered it was normal Earth gravity. Lame.
Maybe I¡¯m not on the moon? I turned around, trying to spot it in the sky. Instead, I spotted the creature of absolute darkness taking up most of the horizon.
I screamed. Just like the last time.
Then the thing reached for me and I fucking tried to turn to run, but that weird thing happened when you have a terrible dream where the thing you want to do is suddenly impossible, like you¡¯re in a late-night infomercial for Snuggie¡¯s and you¡¯re trying to grab a bowl of chips but you are just a fuck up for some reason. I couldn¡¯t turn away.
My fear ratcheted up and up, with some distant part of me screaming this couldn¡¯t be possible¡ª
* * *
I awoke with a sudden jerk, slamming the back of my head against the headboard with enough force to crack it. The motion and the noise startled Ida awake, who rolled out of my arms and was suddenly on her feet in a shooter¡¯s stance, my 1911 in her hand, held ready but not pointed at anything in particular. Had she been sleeping with it under her pillow? Wait, we¡¯d been using the same pillow.
The pain in my head chased away my confused meandering thoughts and brought me to the present. I groaned and rubbed my head, feeling a goose egg already forming. Son of a bitch, that hurt.
Ida relaxed a bit when she took in the scene, placing the gun on the nightstand. ¡°Another bad dream?¡± She asked as she turned on the lamp.
I felt Alice¡¯s mind brush mine, and I sent her calming thoughts that there was no danger. The contact promptly cut off as, I assume, she went back to sleep. I must have really knocked my noggin if it had woken up Alice in the next room.
¡°Yeah,¡± I said, patting the top of my head to see if it was bleeding. It wasn¡¯t, thankfully. ¡°Wait,¡± I said, putting my focus on her fully. ¡°Another? Did I tell you about my dream at Conner¡¯s apartment?¡±
She shook her head. ¡°You mentioned it, but you¡¯ve been having nightmares every night since we¡¯ve been on the road,¡± she relaxed and straightened the tank top she had been sleeping in, then sat next to me.
¡°I have a lot of trouble sleeping,¡± I said, trying to downplay it. It was a true statement, but these dreams are¡ something else. And apparently, they¡¯ve been happening every night. Normally my sleep is plagued by anxiety-fueled dreams about my home life growing up, or the terrible night I first encountered the Doorman. More recently, the dreams have been flavored with the faces of the pirates I killed on the island last year. Oddly, those were the¡ calmest? Not serene. But compared to the guilt I felt at the time, I half expected dreams that featured men I killed to elicit some emotional response. Mostly I felt a vague sense of unease.
But this dream, and the dream back at Conner¡¯s were something else. I felt¡ small. Helpless. In a way that I haven¡¯t since I was a very small child.
There was a scratching at the door. Ida and I shared a glance, then she and I stood. She picked up the gun and took up a position to cover me as I went to go see who was at the door. I checked the peephole but didn¡¯t see anything.
The scratching again, followed by a muted ¡°boof.¡±
I relaxed and opened the door, seeing a concerned Bogo looking up at me.
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¡°Hey there, boy, is something¡ªoof!¡±
Bogo shoulder checked my knees and I had to take a step back to maintain my balance. What followed was a slightly silly retelling of an episode of Lassie as I tried to get Bogo to tell me what was wrong. The not-dog didn¡¯t seem to be his usual communicative self, however, and just kept looking up at me with sad eyes and kept himself pressed up against whatever part of me he could reach.
¡°Sorry,¡± I said to Ida. ¡°He hasn¡¯t acted like this before. Dunno what¡¯s got into him.¡±
¡°Well,¡± Ida said, sitting on the edge of the bed. ¡°He¡¯s essentially a dog, no?¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°A very smart, very weird dog. But a dog.¡±
¡°He¡¯s probably worried about you,¡± she said.
¡°Boof!¡± Bogo said.
A tired smile slowly took shape on my face and I knelt and gave Bogo a thorough petting. ¡°I¡¯m okay, you big goof. Just had a bad dream. Do you want to go outside or sleep in here?¡±
Bogo left my side, did a circle in front of the bed, and plopped down. His expression conveyed ¡°going to keep an eye on you¡± as he watched me from the floor. I stood and went back to the bed, grabbing a pillow.
Ida¡¯s eyebrows raised. ¡°Not coming back to bed?¡±
I shook my head. ¡°You get some sleep,¡± I said. ¡°I doubt I¡¯ll be getting any. I¡¯m going to meditate for a while. It¡¯s not sleep, but it is restful. And beneficial in other ways.¡±
She looked worried. ¡°Alright,¡± she said. ¡°But come back to bed if you need to.¡±
I nodded tiredly and crossed to a corner of the room that was free of furniture. I dropped the pillow down and sat on it, getting comfortable. Ida waited for me to settle before turning off the lamp and getting into bed.
I¡¯ve been doing a lot more meditation since the cruise last year. I had a lot of mental¡ problems, for lack of a better word. In a controlled environment, I can be excellent. Very competent, sure of myself, creative. But as soon as something throws a wrench into my plans I fall apart and, with how my life has been, I need to very much not do that.
I really should see a mental health professional. The trouble is, you have to trust those people. And I only trusted three people on the planet. Maybe four, if you count Perry. Sure, there¡¯s the patient/doctor privilege and all that, but when you operate on the edge of legality as I do, you know how flimsy those protective laws can be. Makes it hard to open up to someone, and I¡¯m honest enough with myself to know that honestly opening up will be the main thing that helps. Perhaps the only thing.
Thus, failing to seek professional help, I went with the next best thing: sitting on a pillow and just existing. Allowing my thoughts to happen and setting them aside. When a worry popped up, I acknowledged it and allowed it to exist, and then let it pass. When an intrusive thought popped in, I regarded it as calmly as I could, examined it as much as I felt comfortable, and again¡ªlet it pass. Ida snorted in her sleep. Instead of letting it intrude, I just allowed it to be in my mind for a moment before passing on to other things.
This is the simplest form of meditation I know, and it¡¯s the one I start with. I use it to prime my mind for the more involved meditation techniques you use to train your mind to hold magic. I usually did it for a bit and then switched to the heavier, more magically inclined meditation, but tonight I just¡ didn¡¯t.
Magically, I was as competent and powerful as I¡¯ve ever been. Though I only could cast one spell with Circe¡¯s Method, it was a vastly versatile spell with applications across the board. Most of all, it was safe. I didn¡¯t run the risk of boiling my fucking brain every time I used it. I was also proud of the progress I had made with my chosen Method. The manuals and other resources I had looked at said that the first spell you learn with Circe¡¯s method is the hardest, with some people taking as long as ten years to master one spell. When I had done it in a little under one I had given myself a little pat on the back.
Technically, drawing or writing out spells came with the same risks of casting them without a Method, but since the energies were spread out over a longer period of time the danger was negligible. Thus I felt very little anxiety about writing out spells, though it has the potential to be ¡°unsafe.¡±
My thoughts were wondering again. I acknowledged them and set them aside.
That was my main problem with meditating for long periods: I drifted easily. I think things through a lot. I¡¯d like to attribute that to how I was able to survive my second encounter with the Doorman. Because I am such a nervous mess, I kept thinking of ways I could die, and then try to think of ways to circumvent them. I had been weak, so I thought of ways to be stronger.
This leads me back to how I react when things don¡¯t go according to plan. Remembering how I had basically shut down for the first few days of the pirate attack makes me cringe. I couldn¡¯t afford to do that again. Not only could it get me killed, but it could get my friends killed. It could get Conner killed.
Conner.
My meditation broke apart when I thought of my brother, and it took a good while for me to calm down. I rolled each worry for my brother around, getting¡ªnot comfortable. That¡¯s the wrong word. Acclimated? Acclimated to the emotion and thought. Once I could exist with the thought without my emotions threatening to overwhelm me, I moved on to the next. Each thought a hammer blow against my psyche, and every time I shored it up with more reinforcements, thicker mortar.
I don¡¯t know how much time passed during this portion of my meditation, but I did notice that I was getting better at it as time passed. It took less time to confront the awful thoughts and set them aside. I wasn¡¯t ignoring them. No, that wouldn¡¯t do anything. No, I was staring them down, knowing them, examining them from every angle, knowing each cutting edge like an old friend. And then I took them and put them to the side, where I could reach them if I wanted. Not out of sight, not out of mind, but not hanging over me, either. No longer a threat to my calm.
When I heard Ida¡¯s alarm go off, I finished with the final worry and put it aside. I opened my eyes and found Ida watching me. I gave her a tired smile, and was surprised that it wasn¡¯t forced. I felt calmer than I had since I left my house. I was still thoroughly tired, but I felt ready to confront the day in a way I had not felt since¡ since college, really.
And then a wet nose poked into my neck and Bogo was making himself comfy in my lap.
¡°Hey bud,¡± I said, scratching his ears. ¡°Ready to go back to work?¡±
¡°Boof!¡±
Book 2, Chapter 15
I took a shower and when I came out, Ida was trying to give Bogo some beef jerky with no success. Bogo turned pleading eyes to me as he shied away from the dried meat.
¡°Bogo only eats when the job¡¯s done,¡± I said as I ran a thick comb through my unruly hair, pulling out the snarls with little regard for my scalp.
¡°What?¡± Ida asked as she straightened from her crouch.
¡°Boof!¡±
¡°He doesn¡¯t need food, specifically,¡± I explained, my voice straining as a particular bit of hair refused to un-knot. ¡°He gets sustenance from¡ªand I¡¯m mostly guessing here, it¡¯s not like he could explain the particulars¡ªthe payment, and the actual chase.¡± The knot finally untangled.
¡°Boof!¡±
Ida looked from me to Bogo, shrugged and plopped the jerky in her mouth, and began chewing loudly. She stood and went to go take her own shower. I was getting antsy for a smoke, so I decided to take Bogo for a walk. I also wanted to be around when Alice left her room so I could pester her for the laundry spell because I hadn¡¯t suddenly remembered it overnight.
I was worried I wouldn¡¯t get my memories back completely. It wasn¡¯t terrible, but not being able to remember the majority of the beginning of Ida¡¯s and my relationship bothered me. Almost as much as losing memories that could help in tracking down Conner.
I tugged on my spare clothes and opened the door, cocking my head outside for Bogo¡¯s sake. The smart not-dog hopped up excitedly and went outside with a happy trot, before waiting just outside for me. I followed him, closing the door behind me. I lit up a cigarette and took a long drag with closed eyes, some anxiety melting from my shoulders.
I opened my eyes to find Bogo giving me an expression I could only describe as disgust.
¡°Yeah, they stink,¡± I said, patting his head. ¡°But you¡¯ve smelled worse.¡±
Bogo huffed but came along happily enough as I started walking the length of the parking lot. I pulled out my phone with my free hand and checked the time. A little after eight. I called my mom and she picked up after the second ring.
¡°Liam?¡±
¡°Hey Mom,¡± I said with a slightly distracted air. I was scanning what I could see of the road and the motel for any potential problems. ¡°Sorry, I missed your calls. We ran into some problems and I¡ªwell, an evil magic dude cursed me with forgetfulness.¡±
¡°Please tell me you aren¡¯t being serious.¡± I could tell she was rubbing her forehead.
¡°I wish I wasn''t,¡± I replied, a small, rueful smile on my lips. ¡°But it¡¯s good news.¡±
¡°How is being cursed good news?¡±
I had been thinking about it a lot in the shower. I hadn¡¯t spent much time thinking since the attack, because I¡¯d been mind-scrambled and just trying to keep my panic from taking over. But last night¡¯s meditation had done wonders to center me and organize my thoughts. I felt¡ Capable. In a way I haven¡¯t felt in a long time.
¡°Because there¡¯d be no reason to attack us if we weren¡¯t a threat,¡± I said. ¡°If we weren¡¯t making progress, they would just let us go about making wrong moves.¡±
There was also the possibility that we had just pissed off one of the country¡¯s only magical biker gangs and they had hunted us down in revenge for attacking their bar. But I doubt it.
Also, how the fuck were people finding me all the time?
My mom was silent for several moments as she processed this.
¡°That¡¯s¡ good, I think. Just¡ªjust be careful, alright?¡±
I paused my walk to wait up for Bogo, who had stopped to sniff at the back of an old Buick. I felt around inside the chassis with my telekinesis, curious as to what had distracted Bogo. A moment of feeling around revealed a couple of desiccated mouse corpses. At least, I think that¡¯s what they were. I felt some old fur and brittle bones, but couldn¡¯t tell much more than that without breaking into the car and looking with my eyes.
¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± I said, flicking away the mostly finished cig. ¡°Can¡¯t make any promises.¡±
We said our goodbyes and I dialed the doctor''s office. The receptionist put me on hold. Even in a magical shadow society, doctors'' offices were all the same. I decided to bug Alice while I waited.
I walked up to her door and tried to unlock it with my TK the way I had at Conner¡¯s apartment. I was just going to crack the door so I wouldn¡¯t have to yell to get her attention and wake up the late risers at the motel. Unfortunately, Alice had warded the door and my magic couldn¡¯t get through.
It was a wise decision and something I should have done last night to my own door. I contributed the oversight to my muddled mindset and promised myself to do better in the future. In fact¡
I turned and regarded my car. Specifically, the trunk, thinking about the armored case in the hidden compartment that had my arsenal. There were a few items in there I had made (well, I commissioned them from people who knew what they were doing, and then did the enchanting myself) that might make life easier.
The only reason I wasn¡¯t using them was that it¡¯d be the magical equivalent of walking around in full combat gear with an RPG held casually on my shoulder. To the non-magical, it¡¯d look like I was cosplaying, which was also attention-grabbing.
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Not the correct solution, I decided. I needed to find out how people were finding me. I could always create an incognito amulet as I had on the ship, but that came with its own problems. With my expanded education and Alice¡¯s help, I had finally figured out how it worked. It basically cut you off from the astral, the plane of thought that mirrored and somewhat supported this universe. One can exist without contact with the astral, as I had demonstrated with my prolonged use of the ward, but it left you vulnerable to outside influences. Now that I thought about it, the accelerated transformations I had been exhibiting towards the end of that conflict could be contributed to the fact that I didn¡¯t have the insulating protection of the astral. Hmm. Something to bring up with the doc.
Bogo nudged my leg. I looked down and he cocked his head at me. I glanced around and realized I had been staring into space for a few minutes. I turned back to Alice¡¯s door. I couldn¡¯t hear anything through it, which was surprising. I had enhanced my hearing a good bit. I leaned against it and pressed my ear to it. Nothing. Did she ward against sound, too?
I took a step to the side and put my ear against the wall. Though it was fuzzy and indistinct, I think I heard water running. I dipped my phone away from my other ear so the hold music wouldn¡¯t compete for my attention, and reaffirmed my opinion. Alice was in the shower. I lifted the phone back up to my ear and backed away.
Not sure I agreed with warding for sound, unless it was one-way. Maybe I¡ª
The hold music ended.
¡°Colm?¡± Said a voice I vaguely recognized.
¡°Doc?¡±
¡°Hello, Colm,¡± she said. ¡°We have the cage prepared. I can give you the news about your tests when you come by.¡±
I sucked in air between my teeth. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s not going to happen anytime soon,¡± I said. ¡°Kind of in a family emergency.¡±
I could tell the doc wasn¡¯t thrilled. ¡°Is it important? Your ailments might not be immediately life-threatening, but we can¡¯t afford to¡ª¡°
¡°My brother was kidnapped,¡± I said. ¡°By someone from our side of the street.¡±
¡°Oh,¡± her tone changed. ¡°I see.¡± I heard some papers being moved around. ¡°In that case, I should probably give you your results now. Do you have a few minutes?¡±
I nodded and walked over to a bench by the motel office, then remembered I was on the phone. ¡°Hit me,¡± I said as I sat down.
¡°How nuanced do you want this?¡± She asked.
¡°Explain like I¡¯m five,¡± I said. ¡°I got a D- in biology.¡±
¡°Well,¡± she drew the word out, likely arranging her thoughts. ¡°Your new cell structure¡ªthat is, the cells from your non-mutated limbs, is very robust. I hit them a wide range of poisons and radiation and they held up remarkably well. You aren¡¯t immune¡ª¡° she was quick to clarify. ¡°But whatever effects a normal person would experience would be reduced in you.
¡°The other good news is I could find no trace of the mutated cells in your blood, saliva, urine, or stool,¡± she said. ¡°Without further tests, I can¡¯t say for sure, but I think the method of spreading is likely that when a non-mutated cell dies, a mutated cell takes its place. Which is why the skin is the part of you changing the fastest. This is just a hypothesis that may very well be wrong, but I think it¡¯s likely.¡±
She paused and waited for me to interject. I didn¡¯t.
¡°As for any sexual activity,¡± she went on after a moment. ¡°We didn¡¯t grab a semen sample, so I can¡¯t recommend it. Judging from the samples we did get, however, I can¡¯t imagine it¡¯d be any different. So if you DO engage in sexual activity, I HIGHLY advise¡ª¡°
¡°Wear a rubber,¡± I interrupted, my face heating. ¡°Yeah, got it.¡±
¡°I can tell this makes you uncomfortable, so I¡¯ll move on,¡± she said. ¡°As for the composition of the mutated cells¡ I haven¡¯t the foggiest. We can¡¯t tell what they are made up of.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t know anything about them?¡± I asked.
¡°Oh, we know plenty,¡± she said with a sigh. ¡°They are even tougher than your improved cells, but we knew that already.¡± I had a brief recollection of what I did to her sink. ¡°They also absorb several forms of radiation and ambient energy without changing temperature or showing damage. In shape, they mimic your hexagonal cell structure, but if enough stress is applied to them they adapt to a more advantageous configuration. It¡¯s baffling.¡±
There was a tense pause. ¡°Which is probably something you didn¡¯t want to hear from your doctor,¡± she said. ¡°But that¡¯s just the mundane side of things. Magically¡ it¡¯s worse.¡±
I sighed. ¡°Of course. You can¡¯t sense anything magical.¡±
¡°No, we can sense some magic,¡± she corrected. ¡°We just can¡¯t determine what kind it is. Hell, Mark¡ªwho ran the tests¡ªis half convinced the energy we¡¯re reading isn¡¯t magical at all.¡±
Alice exited her room and spotted me. She began to approach but I waved her off gently, pointing at the phone. She nodded and went to find Ida, I presumed.
¡°The silver lining, if you can call it that, is that the energy has nothing in common with other malignant curses or magical transformation magic. It¡¯s not increasing, or getting more powerful. It just¡ It just is, as far as we can tell. It¡¯s almost as if the magic, or energy, is leaking into you, a steady trickle from somewhere.¡±
My mind suddenly latched onto the muted presence in the back of my mind¡ªor, perhaps, the back of my ¡°being¡± would be a better word. It felt my attention and regarded me back.
I wrestled my attention back on the conversation. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯ll have to come in for additional tests when I¡ When I¡¯m done with this emergency. Also, I wanna run an idea by you.¡±
I gave her my theory on disconnecting from the astral.
¡°Hmm,¡± she said, and I imagined her leaning back and stroking her chin in thought. ¡°That could have definite consequences. How long did you have this spell in effect?¡±
¡°About two weeks?¡± I said.
She muttered something I didn¡¯t catch. ¡°We¡¯ll definitely need to test that. If we can determine the magic has no presence in the astral, and is in fact enabled by your absence from it¡ªit¡¯d narrow down the field of inquiry. Greatly.¡±
I sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll come in as soon as I can.¡±
We went over some other incidentals, (apparently, I wasn¡¯t drinking enough water) covering some general health things. After a bit we wrapped up, I thanked her and ended the call.
¡°Fuck,¡± I said quietly.
Bogo nudged my leg, making small huffing noises. I idly rubbed his head.
I shook myself out of my funk and walked over to Alice, who was leaning against the door to my room. ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°Was your ward¡ª¡°
The world flashed and I found myself in a giant amphitheater¡ except it had a roof. What do you call that? A stadium? Amphitheater still felt right. The floor was a mix of black and white marble, with sharp, angular designs that I recognized as disruptive to magic to anyone standing in the center. Right where I was.
The walls were so far and the light so dim I could barely make them out. Someone without my night vision wouldn''t be able to see them at all, I bet. In fact, where was the light coming from? I could see no obvious sources of illumination, but the room didn¡¯t have that grainy quality I associated with my vision having to piece a lack of light. There were thousands of seats, all empty. The only other occupant of the room was an absolutely huge man in a business suit, sitting behind a desk. Propped up next to the desk was a hilt of some implement. I couldn¡¯t tell what it was, but it gave off the vibe of an ax.
I took a moment to examine the man, as he was doing to me in turn. His face was weathered but not old, covered in a neat beard that was a few days late for a trim. His eyes were a piercing gray, almost luminescent. His black hair was slicked back, his hairline interrupted by a thick scar that went down to just above his left eyebrow. His suit was navy blue and tailored to fit, and he sat with the easy confidence I associated with someone who knew they could kill everyone in the room or a billionaire.
After a tense moment, the man spoke.
¡°You didn¡¯t read the letter, did you?¡±
Book 2, Chapter 16
Letter? What letter?
¡°Look, I haven¡¯t been home in a week¡ª¡° I cut myself off as I remembered the two assholes from the Concord. ¡°Is this about the letter from the Raven assholes?¡±
The man¡¯s eyes crinkled in the corners as he suppressed a smile. ¡°They do jobs for us as a favor for certain services we render, but aren¡¯t otherwise affiliated with Elysium.¡±
Elysium! That¡¯s right. I glanced around one more time before looking at the large man in the nice suit. ¡°This doesn¡¯t look like the halls of the exalted dead.¡±
I got the impression the man wanted to groan. ¡°The name is a bit of a¡ self-deprecating joke. One that caught on despite my attempts otherwise,¡± he opened a drawer and pulled out a thick piece of parchment. Maybe vellum? ¡°If we ever meet again and I¡¯m not wiping you from existence, maybe I¡¯ll tell you about it.¡±
My anxiety ratcheted, and I took a step back as I centered my balance. If this asshole makes any moves I¡¯m lighting him on fire and then throwing him into a distant wall.
¡°No need to feel threatened so long as you follow three simple rules,¡± the man said as he produced a feather quill and ink jar and began writing on the parchment. ¡°That¡¯s the purpose of this meeting, by the way. To show that our reach is long, and to hammer in how important the rules are.¡±
¡°And these rules are..?¡± I asked, not relaxing in the slightest.
¡°One: Don¡¯t impede, empower, dissolve, install, or otherwise influence any form of current or past government or religion. The one exception is voting if your government or religion has a democratic process.
¡°Two: Do not put yourself in a position where you command a nation or a religion. You may take part in national or religious leadership positions, so long as they are minor positions. A warning will be issued if you climb too high in an organization. If this warning is not heeded you will be executed.
¡°Three: You are not allowed to house greater interdimensional beings within your mind, body, soul, or in a phylactery, amulet, charm, talisman, or any other magical equipment, paraphernalia, or ephemera. Any questions?¡±
I hoped I looked as calm as I was trying to look because my balls jumped up behind my sternum on the last rule. I briefly ran my attention over my guest and sensed something from it that I had never felt before; apprehension.
I wrangled my thoughts away and back onto the subject at hand. Questions? I had plenty. Like how the fuck do people keep FINDING ME?! This asshole not only knew how to find me, but also somehow teleported me! Unless this was a mental construct. No, I ruled that out. My mental defenses were still up and I felt no pressure in the slightest on them. So, I was teleported. Teleporting can be done, but it¡¯s usually such a pain in the ass to travel more than a hundred feet that no one bothered with it unless it was an emergency. The fact that they had just up and snatched me was a very impressive display of power and resources¡ which was probably the point.
¡°I assume breaking these rules results in a time-out?¡± I asked.
¡°If by ¡®time out¡¯ you mean ¡®immediate execution,¡¯ then yes,¡± he replied with a sardonic air.
I sighed and scratched my head, my hair still damp from the shower. The longer it gets the harder it is to dry. Focus, Colm.
¡°...I¡¯m curious,¡± I began after a moment, hesitant. ¡°Why those rules? Are you trying to keep magic under wraps? Maintaining the ¡®Masquerade?¡¯¡±
¡°I meant more pointed questions about what adhering or violating the rules entails¡ª¡°There was a beep from his suit. He frowned and pulled¡ a phone? It was phone shaped, but it was made out of a very thin rectangle of geometric black glass. Obsidian? He glanced at it and replaced it in his suit coat. ¡°My nine o¡¯clock just canceled, so I¡¯ve got some more time. To answer your question: We don¡¯t give a shit about whether the general public knows about magic or not. The only thing Elysium cares about is maintaining a certain amount of magical stability in this territory, and these rules have been found to be efficacious when enforced.¡±
¡°What about other countries? Or continents? How big is the territory you¡¯re talking about?¡± I asked. My anxiety had faded into the background, allowing my curiosity to take the reins.
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He gave me a condescending smile. ¡°My territory¡¯s a touch bigger than a continent.¡±
¡°The world?¡±
His smile remained the same.
Okay. That implied a great deal. I stored that line of thinking down for later. ¡°So, what, do you just grab every asshole who learns magic and threaten them with death if they try to become the God-King?¡±
¡°Not every asshole, no,¡± he said. ¡°Just those who seem to have an impact on the future.¡±
¡°What?¡± I blurted, my mind racing.
¡°Oh, calm down,¡± he said. ¡°We can¡¯t see the future. At least, not reliably. No one can. Otherwise, everything would be quite boring. A few spells and you know how everything is going to go. No, the future is in constant flux, always changing based on that smidge of ineffable free will we all possess. But if one devotes their time to it, watching the future can reveal¡ trends. The people who get to come to this room are people who come up more than a few times at pivotal moments of magical upheaval.¡±
¡°So where were you assholes when I was fighting the Doorman last year?¡± I asked, surprising myself with how harsh I sounded.
¡°Just because we have eyes doesn¡¯t mean we can see everything, Mr. Avery,¡± he said just as sharply. However, when he spoke, his presence swelled until I felt a weight press on me, making me want to take a step back from him. Suddenly the large man felt much larger, much more dangerous.
He sighed, and the weight disappeared as if it hadn¡¯t been. ¡°That¡ incident, was one of the reasons I wanted to meet you personally. If you hadn¡¯t intervened, we would have likely needed to step in once we became aware of the situation. The Doorman isn¡¯t a great threat, as IDBs go, but it can wreak havoc on a population if left to its own devices.¡±
The acronym confused me for a second before I realized it was likely a shortening of "interdimensional being." ¡°So you can pin a medal on me and give me a pat on the back?¡± I asked sarcastically.
¡°If I had the sense that you had done it out of the goodness of your own heart, and weren¡¯t just blindly struggling to save your own skin¡ perhaps,¡± he replied, clasping his hand in front of him. ¡°No, I wanted to make sure nothing had jumped the Veil and was hitching a ride in you.¡±
I tried very hard not to think of my guest. ¡°That can happen?¡± I asked woodenly.
¡°When holes are punched in the dimensional membrane, such things have been known to happen,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s not common, but one can only watch a civilization cannibalize itself once before you learn to look for the signs.¡±
¡°Since I¡¯m still alive, I assume I passed muster,¡± I said, trying to sound a lot more confident than I thought.
¡°You did,¡± he replied. ¡°And, for what it¡¯s worth, I do thank you for stopping that thing.¡± He said. ¡°Whether you did it for personal reasons or not. My only regret is you didn¡¯t find a way to kill it.¡±
My blood ran cold. Trix didn¡¯t kill it?!
¡°It¡¯s still alive?!¡±
He raised his eyebrows. ¡°I thought you knew.¡±
¡°I¡ªthe last I saw of it, it was being dragged through a portal by a giant monster hand! I assumed the next thing to happen was ¡®smash smash!¡¯¡± My voice had raised an octave and was a whole lot louder.
¡°Sadly not,¡± the man said. The more rational part of my mind berated me for not asking his name yet. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened on the other side of that portal, but I have had recent reports of its movements.¡±
¡°Not in our reality,¡± he was quick to add when he saw my horror.
I placed a hand on my heart. It was beating so hard I could hear it in my head. ¡°Jesus,¡± I muttered. "Just about gave me a heart attack."
I felt a nearly forgotten fear rise up and put its hands on my shoulders. Like an old friend giving me a surprise visit. I had thought I was done with that fucking prick. I¡ªshit. I¡ªI don¡¯t know what to do.
I pulled a cigarette pack from my pocket and palmed one out. The man at the desk frowned as I lit it with a thought and took a deep drag.
Okay, first thing.
¡°What do I call you?¡± I asked.
¡°Jager,¡± he replied.
¡°Okay, Jager,¡± I said. ¡°So, you scared the bejeezus out of me and gave me some incredibly worrying news. Anything else I gotta do to get out of here?¡±
Jager took the parchment he had set aside earlier and pushed it towards me, holding out the feather quill with his other hand. ¡°Need your signature that you understand the rules as given, and no tricks or subterfuge was used to mislead you.¡±
¡°I mean, if I was misled, would I know?¡± I asked. ¡°I never heard of you until a few days ago.¡±
He shrugged. ¡°Just a formality I have to observe to keep the machine running.¡±
I sighed and approached the desk for the first time since I was brought here. As I got closer I suddenly realized that the floor of this room was slightly curved, like a shallow, inverted bowl. I soon realized that the big man behind the desk was actually a huge man behind a large desk. The top of the desk came up to just above my navel. Jager, seated, was of similar height to me.
I turned to look behind me and¡ okay, the room wasn¡¯t slightly curved. There was something with the jagged designs in the floor and walls that messed with my perception. When I turned back, Jager hadn¡¯t moved and was watching me expectantly. I resisted the urge to sigh again and took my time reading over what was on the parchment, which wasn¡¯t much. I ran my magical senses over it and the quill and found no trace that I could detect. It was basically a promissory note.
I took the quill, dipped it in the ink, and signed my sloppy signature.
¡°That¡¯s it?¡± I asked, handing back the quill.
¡°That¡¯s it,¡± he said, tucking the quill, ink, and parchment away in his desk. ¡°Follow the rules and we¡¯ll luckily never see each other again.¡±
¡°Super, I guess,¡± I said without enthusiasm.
The world flashed and I was back in the parking lot.
I was then tackled.
¡°Boof!¡±
Book 2, Chapter 17
¡°Yes, I¡¯m fine, Bogo. Let me up,¡± I said to the excited not-dog doing his best to sniff his (or my?) distress away.
Bogo must have sensed my mood because he immediately backed off and sat a foot from me. I heard my name yelled and was joined by Alice and Ida, who arrived just in time to see me regain my feet and wipe the dirt off the back of my pants.
¡°I am so sorry!¡± Alice said, her normally steady voice heavy with emotion. ¡°With everything going on I totally forgot about the fucking letter and¡ªand I forgot that YOU have amnesia and didn¡¯t remember the date and I¡¯m a double fuck-up because I forgot it was today and THEY ACTUALLY TELEPORTED YOU?!?¡±
I heard a sound and looked down the lot, seeing a middle-aged man with a woman that I hoped was his daughter exiting a room and giving us curious looks. ¡°Let¡¯s take this inside,¡± I said and headed for Alice¡¯s room, which was closer.
The room was a disaster. Someone (I presume Alice) had lifted the bed, frame and all, and shoved it up against the wall where the headboard used to be. Where it had been was a big, partially done magic circle with¡ I squinted my eyes and looked at the center. Yup, those were likely my hairs.
I turned and raised an eyebrow at Alice. Externally, I was trying to be calm, but internally, the meeting with Jager had shaken me greatly, dealing a heavy blow to whatever mental progress my night of meditation had given me. No, that¡¯s not fair to myself. Without the gains of last night, I¡¯d probably be handling this a lot worse. Even so, it was all I could do to keep my breath steady and my hands from shaking.
¡°I thought you had been kidnapped by the Doorman¡¯s brother or something!¡± Alice almost yelled as Ida closed the door behind them. ¡°I badgered Ida into helping me find some of your hair from your comb and was halfway done with a Reprisal Sign when Ida talked some sense into me. Thank God she is ice under pressure because she calmed me down enough to get me thinking and I remembered that stupid letter Ade and Stewie gave you.¡±
I frowned. ¡°I take it from your reaction that being teleported isn¡¯t a normal occurrence?¡±
¡°Fuck no!¡± Alice nearly shouted. Ida put a hand on her shoulder and Alice made a visible effort to calm down. ¡°No. It barely ever happens. Hell, I used to think my grandma was full of shit until literally a few minutes ago. Usually, you are taken to an office and have the magical equivalent of a Skype call, they tell you ¡°obey the rules or die¡± and that¡¯s it.¡±
I made a frustrated noise. Ida crossed the room and went to take my hand but I flinched away from her. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said quickly. I slowly placed my hands on her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m¡ªwhen I¡¯m stressed some old tics with being touched come up. It has nothing to do with you.¡±
She nodded. ¡°I know,¡± she said with a weak smile. We had spoken about my problem before, it having come up in one of our many Facetime calls, but this was her first time experiencing it. She was putting on a brave face but I could tell it hurt. I¡¯ll have to make it up to her when I¡¯m in a better frame of mind.
What a shit time to start a relationship.
¡°I¡ª¡° I took a deep breath and held it for five seconds before letting it out. I repeated this twice more, letting my hands fall back to my sides. ¡°I need to take a walk and calm down. Not only was being teleported out of the blue terrible, but I also learned the Doorman is still out there¡ if the big guy can be believed.¡±
Alice and Ida spoke up but I waved off their questions. ¡°Gimme a few minutes,¡± I said and left the room.
Bogo was waiting for me, looking worried and boofing with every other breath. ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± I said as I jerked my head to the sidewalk. ¡°I need to clear my head.¡±
I had a lot of problems. Missing brother, top of the list. Now a mysterious organization that can teleport people from any corner of the planet has made itself known to me. The face of said organization was the first thing that has ever made my mostly silent passenger feel anything other than mild interest. I nudged it mentally and felt the same apprehension as before. I didn¡¯t dare engage it any more than that, as the last time I had fully contacted it I had gotten the ability to grow tentacles and gained knowledge I tried not to think about.
Then there was the fact that people kept finding me. How the hell was that happening? I¡¯m sure I would have taken measures against tracking magic during my missing time but I couldn¡¯t be sure because my fucking memories were missing. Part of me wished I hadn¡¯t killed that guy so I could kill him again. What a fucking pain in the ass this whole memory thing has been.
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I sighed and dipped into an¡ alley? I guess it¡¯s an alley. A small street between two buildings. It was between a gas station and a McDonald¡¯s with a chest-high wall on the McDonald¡¯s side that served as a buffer for the drive-through. I found a dusty patch of asphalt and looked around to make sure no one was looking before I used my magic to draw a complicated spell into the dust. One of the unexpected benefits of focusing on telekinesis as my first spell with Circe¡¯s Method was that I could whip up large spell arrays much faster than drawing them out by hand. It was also easier on my knees.
Even with the added speed, it took several minutes for me to draw out the spell, having to scratch the symbols into the asphalt in places where the dust wasn¡¯t thick enough. It took long enough that Ida came looking for me. She nodded at me in greeting but didn¡¯t say anything, just crouched next to Bogo and gave him some attention while I worked. It was another minute or two before I was satisfied the spell was complete.
¡°That¡¯s very neat,¡± Ida said when I took a step back. ¡°You get this Gandalf look when you do magic like that.¡±
¡°That¡¯s the hottest thing anyone¡¯s ever said to me,¡± I said, eliciting a laugh from her. I circled the spell, which was laid out in several concentric circles about eight feet wide, taking up most of the alley. I made a couple of adjustments as I saw it from different angles.
¡°What¡¯s this do?¡± Ida asked.
¡°Hopefully it¡¯ll tell me how people have been finding me,¡± I said. ¡°First, the private eye my folks hired found me. Then those two douches from the Concord. Then the assholes that attacked us in the food court. Finally, being teleported by Elysium. I have a ward in my wallet that¡¯s supposed to stop tracking magic but people keep showing up to harass me.¡±
¡°Maybe they are tracking you the old-fashioned way,¡± Ida said.
I made another adjustment to the spell. ¡°Possible, but I find it unlikely,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve barely left my house in the last year, and the first day I¡¯m in LA my folks find me at Alice¡¯s place? That would imply that I, you, Alice or her tight-knit psychic family let the information slip to someone snooping around. And then the Concord guys show up when we go to my brother¡¯s place.¡± I shook my head. ¡°I don¡¯t like it. Something¡¯s up. I need to get a handle on it before I can focus on finding my brother, especially since the fight in the food court. What if they track me again and Conner gets caught in the crossfire? Or any one of us?¡±
Ida nodded. ¡°So how does the spell help?¡±
¡°It¡¯s hard to explain, as I¡¯ve only used it once or twice,¡± I said. ¡°I found it when I was researching ways to circumvent being tracked¡ the spell I used on the cruise ship has some side effects that I don¡¯t want to encounter again.
¡°Basically,¡± I said as I stepped into the center of the spell, giving it a final once-over as I spoke to Ida. ¡°It looks over the subject¡ªin this instance, me¡ªand checks to see if any sympathetic links have been made. The size of the spell, or the power used if you¡¯re mentally casting it, dictates how far back it checks. This size right here should check back a week or two.¡±
¡°Like checking the logs on a router,¡± Ida said.
¡°Similar!¡± I agreed. ¡°Magic is basically taking your energy, be it mental, physical, or other, and melding it with the energy or the material or astral plane to produce the desired result. Doing that always leaves a trace until reality bends back to the way it was.¡±
¡°Is it dangerous?¡± Ida asked, giving Bogo a final pet before standing.
¡°Shouldn¡¯t be,¡± I said. ¡°But if magic were exact, it¡¯d be a science. A lot of what makes a spell work is the mindset and willpower of the person doing the magic.¡± I winked at her and raised my crossed fingers. ¡°Fingers crossed.¡±
Then I initiated the spell.
So, the first time I used this spell, I had cast some tracking magic on myself in preparation to give the spell something to display for me. It displayed the tracking magic as a thin, hazy gold line that originated from me, went to where I had cast the spell, and terminated at me. The second time I had cast the spell I had asked Alice to use a few tracking spells, and I had gotten similar hazy lines that had pointed off into the distance. The tracking spells I had blocked showed up as small circular blemishes on the perimeter of the spell.
This time, when I cast the spell, it lit up on the edges like a force shield had suddenly popped up. So many tracking attempts! I could tell from the density and slight color changes that only a handful of practitioners were responsible for them. I spun around, looking at the light show, but didn¡¯t see anything making contact with me. Which means none of the tracking magic had succeeded. I was about to end the spell when I noticed something new.
While there were no hazy lines attached to me, there were impressions of me. I was standing in the middle of them so it had taken me a moment to see them, but there were several images of myself in various positions. Still frames of me walking, sitting, eating, talking. God damn it, I didn¡¯t bring out my spell book and I needed to check my notes. I didn¡¯t want to summon it in the middle of the spell for fear of interrupting it.
¡°Hey, can you text Alice and bring her here?¡± I asked. ¡°This is a behavior I¡¯m not familiar with.¡±
* * *
¡°That explains a lot,¡± Alice said.
¡°It does?¡± I asked.
¡°Yeah, those are divining impressions,¡± she said, gesturing at the images of me. I was standing just to the right of them. ¡°They aren¡¯t tracking you; they are tracking where you will be.¡±
I sighed. ¡°Fuck me.¡± I don¡¯t know how to defend against fucking seers. Now that I thought about it, though¡
¡°Jager¡ªthe guy who teleported me,¡± I began. ¡°Said that he only meets with people who have a strong¡ presence? In the timeline? The way he phrased it was along the lines of ¡®people who keep showing up in the future.¡¯ Could this be related?¡±
Alice shrugged. ¡°This is beyond me,¡± she said as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. ¡°But Mama is a diviner.¡±
I killed the spell and scraped it away as best I could without destroying a section of the asphalt. ¡°Let¡¯s hit the road, we can pick her brain while Bogo tracks.¡±
Book 2, Chapter 18
¡°Can¡¯t we do a Seeming? I hate giving lectures over the phone.¡±
¡°No, Mama, we¡¯re driving,¡± Alice said into the speakerphone. ¡°Pretend we¡¯re competent adults that don¡¯t need pop-up books to learn.¡±
Mama Martinez grumbled something in Spanish. The front area of the car was even more cramped with Ida leaning forward between the seats so she could hear the phone. Bogo had his nose pressed up against the crack in the window, but one of his ears was cocked back towards the phone. Seems even the not-dog was interested in a crash course in divination.
We heard Mama say something in Spanish and a child''s voice replied with a whine. Mama shooed off whoever was there and returned to the phone. ¡°So what do you want to know?¡± Mama asked after she settled.
¡°Can you track someone with divination?¡± I asked.
¡°Yes,¡± Mama replied.
There was silence as we waited for her to continue. Alice made a frustrated sound. ¡°Mom!¡±
¡°Ay, ni?a, don¡¯t get your panties in a twist,¡± Mama Martinez said with some laughter in her voice. ¡°Let an old woman entertain herself once in a while.¡± There were some muffled sounds as the background noise on the other line diminished, followed by a closed door. ¡°I¡¯d prefer to have this conversation where I can¡¯t be overheard, but the bathroom will have to do.¡±
Must not get great reception in the basement.
¡°Why do you think you¡¯re being tracked by divination?¡± Mama asked with a groan. I imagined her sitting down on something and getting comfortable.
¡°Divination impressions in a sympathetic aura reading, for one,¡± I said. ¡°Second, I was told by a member of Elysium that I¡¯m coming up a lot in divination.¡±
¡°He was Summoned, mama,¡± Alice interjected. You could hear the stress she put on the word. ¡°Right in front of us in the fucking parking lot.¡±
¡°Oh,¡± Mama Martinez said. ¡°Dios m¨ªo. Well yes, okay, that would do it. So you want to block divination? You¡¯re shit out of luck if you want to block Elysium.¡±
¡°How does divination work?¡± I asked instead. Maybe with more knowledge a solution would present itself. ¡°I haven¡¯t studied much about it.¡±
I heard a deep inhale and knew she was gearing up for a lecture. I checked Bogo and knew from his body language that we had a long way to go yet so settled in to absorb the information.
¡°Divination is a more mechanical pursuit than most people think,¡± Mama Martinez said. ¡°No one can see the future because the future hasn¡¯t happened yet for us. There are some theories that beings from higher dimensions live outside of time and can move through it like how we move through a three-dimensional space, but that doesn¡¯t apply to us humans so we¡¯ll ignore that and focus on what we know works.¡±
As she spoke, her voice faded in and out slightly, and I got the impression she was gesturing with the hand that was holding her phone. I could hear her fine with my improved ears but Ida was having to focus to pick things up.
¡°To understand divination, you have to understand time. What is time? Time is a measurement. Time is a measurement of distance traveled. ¡®One second¡¯ is a unit of measurement that measures how far matter moves in relation to the viewer. How can one see the future if the future is based on quintillions of variations of movement, each movement affecting other movements and setting off even more variations which set off more variations, etcetera.
¡°So how does divination work? Basically, you build a predictive model in the astral of the area you want to divine, set your parameters, and hope your model is good at guessing where the matter is going to end up. The longer you do it, the more refined your model becomes, the better your results.
¡°We use the astral because the astral is a pure mental plane and energy there doesn¡¯t behave like energy here. As far as we can tell it¡¯s completely possible to make something from nothing in the astral and space doesn¡¯t really seem to exist there. If you¡¯ve ever been there you know that if you want to go somewhere, you just end up there without any real effort. Wizards, magicians, and demigods have gone insane trying to figure out the astral¡ But I¡¯m getting off topic.¡±
She grunted as she (I presume) shifted her seat. I checked on Bogo to make sure he was still calm.
¡°Because we have to use the astral to get around the power needed to map around staggering amounts of mass in constant motion, there are a few quirks to divination that pop up every now and then. One of them I believe Colm here fell victim to.
¡°The astral tends to cling to people with power, or people around the periphery of power, or even just things that have or are around power. And because the astral is purely mental, time there is also wishy-washy. Thus you can get people that show up in divination that won¡¯t do anything for ten, twenty, thirty years, or even a century. But because what they do or what they are involved in is so impactful, the echoes of it wash through the astral and mess with our predictive models. This is where prophecy comes from.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°Diviners use these ¡®future-echos¡¯ as a keystone to base their predictions on, as they act as a point of reference for where things will be. The problem is that these ¡®future-echos¡¯ don¡¯t always happen because the future is never set in stone. There were some three hundred prophesies thrown out the window the second Nagasaki was nuked. Surprisingly few people saw that coming.¡±
¡°But these ¡®future-echos¡¯ can be accurate?¡± I asked.
¡°Very much so,¡± Mama Martinez confirmed. ¡°Probably more often than not, but I haven¡¯t made a great study of it to say with any certainty.¡±
Mama was interrupted by a knock on the door. There was an exchange in Spanish that I couldn¡¯t follow. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± Mama said after the other person had left. ¡°I need to help Carmen corral the little ones.¡±
I went over what she said, some things falling into place. First, I might have a strong astral presence because of my silent passenger. The Orphan had said it was a sliver of myself from another reality. If the me from that reality was as powerful as I was inclined to believe, it could create the astral ¡®clingy-ness¡¯ that Maria was talking about. I was also directly linked to a powerful being in the form of Alice¡¯s ¡®gran,¡¯ known to myself as the demoness Trix. A lot of my non-magical powers were from deals with her. Those deals likely left a psychic imprint on me in the astral. Or not. My education into the astral was only a goddamned year old. I wish I could sit in my room for another five years and get the education I needed. But back on topic:
I was also the focus of another powerful entity, the Doorman. The only reason I had become as powerful as I have is because of the things attention. If our confrontation was inevitable, would that create an astral backlash? Or echo?
I rubbed my temples, careful not to cut myself with my nails. Incognito Mode would solve these problems, but it would likely accelerate the transformation I was undergoing. I also had a suspicion that some of my more irrational decisions on the ship stemmed from being cut off from the astral. I didn¡¯t know much about the astral, but what I did know is that a mind without its connection to the plane of thought was more erratic and prone to developing psychosis.
Maybe I could modify the spell? Instead of cutting me off from the astral, put a bottleneck on it? I ran the idea by Alice.
¡°Sounds plausible,¡± Alice said. ¡°But I don¡¯t know. I only know enough about the astral to make my mental magic work and to protect against other telepaths. Luckily we have an expert on the line who will hopefully come back.¡±
The call dropped.
I glanced back at Ida and shared a look with her.
¡°We¡¯ll call her back in a minute,¡± Alice said.
I gave Bogo a pat on his side and tried not to devolve into a worried mess as the desert passed by.
* * *
¡°Sorry that took so long,¡± Maria said once we got her back on the phone ten minutes later. ¡°Julio cut his arm on the fence and it needed to be cleaned properly. Where were we?¡±
We were headed into a canyon that would lead into Santa Clarita, I was afraid we¡¯d lose reception once we were in. ¡°How to defend against divination.¡±
¡°Right! So, defending against divination is basically the task of tricking the astral into giving incorrect data or completely removing data from the astral. The latter is incredibly more dangerous so most practitioners just feed false info into the astral.¡±
¡°Similar to mundane counter-intelligence tactics, then,¡± I said.
¡°In abstract, yes. In practice, it involves a lot of elaborate magic and mental gymnastics. I can handle the magic on my end but you¡¯ll need to do the mental exercises that leave the false trails. I¡¯ll send Alice some notes so you can begin.¡±
¡°Thanks, mama,¡± Alice said.
¡°Thank you, Maria,¡± I said sincerely. ¡°I really mean it.¡±
¡°De nada,¡± Maria said. ¡°You find your brother and bring him back to us. We¡¯ll keep you all safer than Fort Knox.¡±
We ended the call and continued down the road for a while. It was Ida that broke the silence.
¡°It¡¯s really irritating being the only one who can¡¯t do magic,¡± she said.
The comment caught me off guard. Then I slapped my forehead. ¡°Remind me when we stop for the night,¡± I said. ¡°I have a primer on beginning magic theory to give you.¡±
¡°But I can¡¯t do magic,¡± Ida said hesitantly.
¡°Neither could I at one point,¡± I said, turning and giving her a smile. ¡°From what I¡¯ve been told, everyone in Alice¡¯s direct family can do magic and some people who marry into the family pick it up after a while. There¡¯s more to it than just education, but you¡¯ve been around magical shenanigans enough that I think there might be a shot at you picking it up.¡±
I saw her warming up to the idea. ¡°At the very least,¡± I continued. ¡°We can give you a magical foundation so you don''t feel left out when we go all magic nerd. I could also use your insights on a few things I''m making. I¡¯ve been trying to make an amulet that repels bullets but I can¡¯t get the thing to only target bullets. Keeps randomly destroying insects or fans in my house. I think it¡¯s targeting other fast-moving objects.¡±
¡°Yeah, people have been trying to make bulletproof enchantments since the invention of guns,¡± Alice chimed in. ¡°The problem is that to stop a bullet, you have to apply the same amount of force it''s exerting at the proper angle or it¡¯ll disintegrate into harmful fragments or ricochet. Shield spells are the way to go.¡±
She glanced at me before returning her attention to the road. ¡°Though that trick with the telekinesis was something I hadn¡¯t seen before. How did you do it?¡±
¡°The first one I came up with was a layer about a foot thick with the consistency of water, and another, thinner layer behind it that was as hard as I could make it without getting a headache. I watched a lot of ballistics videos on youtube and it turns out water stops bullets really well,¡± I gave Bogo a scratch behind his ears and he leaned into my hand as much as he could without taking his nose away from the window. ¡°But that was too hard to maintain over time and the area I needed to cover. Then some weeks later I read an article on aerogel and it gave me the idea to form a layer of telekinesis with a porous texture, and for some reason that was much easier to maintain. Doesn¡¯t work as well against rifle rounds but good enough against small arms fire.¡±
¡°Easier to deflect the energy,¡± Ida said. ¡°Tanks armor is fashioned in angles so that the energy is diverted to the side. For that matter, if you can make a texture like aerogel, can you not also simulate the weave of Kevlar and disperse the energy that way?¡±
¡°First, I was worried about ricochets,¡± I said. ¡°Second¡ the Kevlar thing never occurred to me.¡±
Ida sat back with an amused smirk. ¡°You might be good at magic, but you always approach solutions from strange directions.¡±
¡°So I¡¯ve been told,¡± I said, my ears burning.
After that I lapsed into thought, going over the incognito spell in my mind and trying to isolate the part of it that cut off the astral. If the mental exercises Maria was sending over were too difficult or time-consuming, I may need to find alternate means of hiding my tracks. Being ambushed once had cost me a few days of memories. If they had been competent, we would all be dead.
With that warm thought, I rolled the problems of the day around as we drew closer to LA.
Book 2, Chapter 19
While we were driving through the canyon I realized I hadn¡¯t floated my idea about creating an astral bottleneck past Maria, so it was hard to think of anything else until we were through and into Santa Clarita.
¡°Bueno,¡± Maria said on the third ring.
¡°Hey Maria, it¡¯s Colm,¡± I grunted a bit as Bogo shifted in my lap and put a paw right into my junk. ¡°Wanted to pick your brain on an idea I have.¡±
¡°Shoot,¡± she said, the word half cut off as a child screamed in the background.
¡°First, I was wondering if you could try divining me and seeing if you¡¯re able to pick me up easily? We might be barking up the wrong tree and I want to narrow down options.¡±
¡°Oh, yes! I should have thought of that,¡± she said. ¡°Having to watch the grandkids is making me sloppy. CARMEN!¡±
I winced at Maria¡¯s sudden bellow. I waited for Maria to be done letting Carmen know she was going to be in the basement before continuing.
¡°Second, the problem is that the astral has a strong connection to me, right? If we¡¯re right in our assumptions?¡± I asked.
¡°More like that you will have a strong connection to the astral, from the astrals point of view, which means you have a strong connection now because time doesn¡¯t really exist there. It¡¯s a weird, but important distinction.¡±
¡°What if I were to limit my connection to the astral?¡± I asked. ¡°Not cut myself off, but create a bottleneck?¡±
¡°I¡ªHmm,¡± Maria grew silent as she thought. She began muttering to herself, and I heard a rhythmic clicking. Finally, she made a frustrated sound. ¡°No idea.¡±
¡°I just don¡¯t have enough data,¡± she continued. ¡°My expertise is in divination, which is a huge, colossal pain in the ass. The potential benefits make it a worthy investment of effort, but a common trend amongst diviners is a narrow focus because of how much time and effort goes into refining your craft. A diviner that isn¡¯t always working on better divination is a shitty diviner. I know what I know about the astral to make my divination models work and that¡¯s pretty much where I stopped.
¡°I DO know that cutting yourself off from the astral for any length of time is a ticket to insanity,¡± she said, her voice full of warning. ¡°Thankfully it¡¯s tremendously difficult to do or it¡¯d be a bigger problem amongst younger practitioners.¡±
I frowned. Incognito mode was difficult to learn, sure, but not more difficult than my fire spells. ¡°I have a method to cut myself off from the astral,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s part of an anti-tracking spell, but I¡¯m hoping to modify it to just limit my connection.¡±
¡°What? How?¡±
¡°How what? How am I going to modify the spell?¡±
¡°No, how does it cut you off from the astral?¡± She said, with a weird intensity.
I shared a glance with Alice. I began going over the theory of the spell, which wove several basic anti-tracking, scrying, and far-seeing methods together into one function then built it into a shell model of one''s mind.
¡°Then you shape the spell into a kinda Faraday cage for your mind,¡± I said. ¡°Which, when I first tried to implement it, I thought just to encase my head. That didn¡¯t work and the spell broke down after a few seconds. You have to make it big and strong enough to cover all of your body, plus an inch or two outside of it.¡±
Maria was silent for a long time. With the window cracked, it was hard to hear what was happening on the other end of the line, but I think I could hear a pencil scratching.
¡°Where did you learn this?¡± Maria asked, her voice still laced with a weird intensity.
¡°A journal I got in an estate sale,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t understand all the methodology with it as I had to translate it from Dutch, but it works very well.¡±
¡°It shouldn¡¯t,¡± Maria said, the concern in her voice thick. ¡°How did you calculate the astral border resonance?¡±
¡°It was similar to the calculations I did with my summoning circle,¡± I said. ¡°I just modified them to apply to a parallel plane instead of a distant reality.¡±
Maria began muttering to herself. ¡°When Alice said you had worked on that new summoning circle Gran showed her, I took it to mean you had tested or modified it.¡±
¡°A bit of it is my own design, but most of it I cobbled together from the writings of several other summoners,¡± I said. ¡°Look, Maria, you¡¯re worrying me.¡±
She barked out a laugh. ¡°You¡¯re worried! You just told me you invented a better mouse trap and can easily do something I¡¯ve always been told is next to impossible.¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t say the spell is easy,¡± I said. ¡°Not terribly difficult, but not easy.¡±
¡°It should be impossible,¡± Maria said. ¡°Look, when you guys stop for the night¡ªif you don¡¯t have other pressing concerns, give me a call and I¡¯ll have Carmen set up a seeming so we can talk face-to-face. I need to see what this spell looks like in action.
¡°In the meantime, I¡¯ll get to divining and I¡¯ll call you back with how it went,¡± Maria said.
¡°Sure,¡± I said, a bit uneasy. ¡°Thanks for your help.¡±
Maria muttered something in Spanish but didn¡¯t reply as she ended the call.
¡°That was weird,¡± I said.
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¡°I think you just turned her whole magical career on its head,¡± Alice said.
I hummed a reply but kept silent. Something was bugging me but I couldn¡¯t put my finger on it. I rolled the conversation around in my head for a bit but couldn¡¯t find what was dragging on my attention. What was that weird intensity she had gotten? Why was my attention fixed on it?
Attention.
I focused on what I didn¡¯t want to put my attention on. I didn¡¯t want to look behind me. Ignoring my instincts and I craned my neck behind me, past Ida, and out the rear window.
¡°That moving truck is really hauling ass,¡± I said.
A relatively new U-Haul was keeping pace with us. With Alice, who drove like she was on fire and the only way to put it out was setting a speed record. Like she was stress-testing Honda¡¯s engineering.
Alice looked in the rearview, her eyes narrowed. ¡°It¡¯s warded against mental magic,¡± she said.
Ida cursed in French and grabbed the duffle bag from the floor and pulled out her MP5. I undid my seat belt and pulled my Webley from my waistband holster, while awkwardly moving Bogo out of the way. The not-dog sensed something was up and hopped between the front seats in the back, his back paws on the floor while his front paws were on the case of the Blood Stick, using it as leverage to see out the back window. He growled.
¡°Ope, that¡¯s bad,¡± I said.
¡°What?¡± Ida asked. ¡°Why?¡±
¡°I¡¯ve only heard him growl once before,¡± I said as I gave the Webley a once over. ¡°And that was when I was attacked by demons¡±
¡°Demons?¡± Ida asked with worry, her eyes nailed to the truck as she pulled spare magazines from the duffle bag.
¡°Not like, from Hell,¡± I said. ¡°A lot of the people I¡¯ve studied just use it as a catch-all term for monsters not from our reality.¡±
¡°How are we going to do this?¡± Alice asked, almost interrupting me. ¡°I can try to outrun them but I¡¯m not sure I can squeeze much more out of your car.¡±
¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not sure how they¡¯re getting a U-haul truck to keep up with you¡ Let them get a little closer,¡± I said with a smirk. ¡°There¡¯s something I¡¯ve been wanting to try.¡±
¡°Are we sure they¡¯re hostile?¡± Ida asked.
Bogo snarled.
¡°Pretty sure,¡± I said, my smirk falling into a frown. ¡°But yeah, I don¡¯t wanna shoot first just in case it¡¯s some practitioners and their own not-dog out for a trip and have someone at the wheel as crazy as Alice.¡±
¡°So?¡± Alice prompted. ¡°What do we do?¡±
¡°Speed up a bit,¡± I said. ¡°Make it look like we¡¯re gonna try to outrace them down the five. But the two-ten is coming up¡ªat the last second, make the change and see if they follow.¡±
Alice nodded. ¡°Got it.¡±
I closed the window that had been cracked and Bogo gave me an irritated look. ¡°Sorry, man,¡± I said. ¡°I just want to reduce drag for this next part. Hondas aren¡¯t meant for speed. Well, this one wasn¡¯t.¡±
The speedometer crept up as Alice wove through the limited traffic. The main reason she couldn¡¯t open up the throttle was that, while traffic was pretty good, the roads were far from free. She was having to move from lane to lane to dodge the slower, oblivious drivers. While that allowed us to somewhat keep the truck from closing, it was still able to keep pace. Which, was kind of impressive for a big moving truck.
I saw the sign for 210 East.
¡°Hold onto something!¡± Alice said and cranked the wheel at the last second, cutting through three lanes and just missing hitting the divider. She corrected the turn with a slight screech of tires.
The truck began the turn at the same time we did, keeping pace¡ªno, gaining steadily.
¡°Merde,¡± Ida muttered.
We went through the connection and merged onto the 210, where Alice could really put her foot down. The 210 has a lot less traffic than the 5 on a normal day, and today was no exception. The speedometer climbed above one-ten, then one-twenty¡
The truck kept up. Kept gaining.
The Honda started to make a really worrying noise if Alice tried to push it over a hundred and twenty-five, so she had to back off. Not to self: Take an automotive class so I can figure out how to supercharge my car with magic. Until then¡
¡°Seems like they¡¯re here for us,¡± I said, breaking the tense silence.
¡°Oui,¡± Ida said.
¡°Hit the brakes, Alice,¡± I said, bracing against the dashboard. ¡°Don¡¯t make them hit us, but get us close enough that I can fuck with them.¡±
¡°Brace yourselves,¡± Alice said. Bogo dropped down and laid as flat as he could on the floor, while Ida and I held onto whatever was in reach.
Alice pumped the brakes, the speedometer plummeting. Just when I thought the truck was going to rear-end us she cranked the wheel to the left and the truck shot past us on the right.
I reached out with my magic and, as I expected, found the cab and the bed of the truck to have defensive wards placed on them. That¡¯s fine. It would be easier to do what I¡¯m trying to do with access to the cab but I¡¯ll adjust.
So, the spell that forms the basis for my telekinesis is a fairly straightforward utility spell, meant to move big heavy things by shoving or dragging. By mastering it with Circe¡¯s method, not only did I broaden its application but also stretched and focused its power. The reason I could draw in the dirt with it was that I could take some of that hundreds of pounds of force¡ªoriginally meant to be spread over a surface area of several feet¡ªand narrow it down to a point, making an effective chisel or sharp point.
I don¡¯t know enough about car engines to enchant one, but I do know enough about cars to know that the steering system is reliant on a few bars not moving away from each other. I think one of them is literally called the ¡°steering rod.¡±
The long and short of it is; they warded the cab, they warded the engine, they even warded the tires. But they didn¡¯t ward under the engine, where a gear met a certain rod.
Now, a couple of hundred pounds of force may be able to break or bend one of those rods out of shape, but I doubted it. Maybe on a smaller car, but moving trucks deal with a lot of force, a lot of extra weight, not to mention the fact that they were just bigger. Nope, instead I just created a very small, very dense cube of force, poured all of my will into it, and slammed it into that gear when the driver tried to course correct when we dipped behind him.
I growled in the back of my throat in concentration as the two pieces of metal tried to crush my magic but I held on, gritting my teeth. When I felt the pressure mount, and then slip, I slammed everything into the spell and made it burst out. I felt something shift, and maybe heard a metallic ¡°clang!¡± but I probably imagined that part.
The truck started drifting to the right.
¡°Oh my God,¡± I said, panting. I wiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. ¡°That was way harder than I thought it¡¯d be.¡±
¡°What¡¯d you do?¡± Alice asked. She was moving us into the left lane and regaining the speed she had lost. The truck was wisely slowing down now that they had lost steering.
¡°They had warded the shit outta the truck, but missed a spot,¡± I said. ¡°I took out the steering mechanism.¡±
¡°Neat¡ª¡° Alice began.
¡°They are doing something!¡± Ida nearly shouted.
I had taken my eyes off the truck for what felt like less than a second, and in that second the truck had undergone some changes. Dark red¡ skin? I guess? Began to creep from the seams of the trucks body and cover the chassis. I could just make out what looked like ligaments reach from the wheel wells to behind the front wheels. Immediately after, the truck began to correct course and resume chasing us. The top of the cab bulged, a head forming from a mass of dark red skin. An eye appeared on the mass, the rest of the surface area taken up by a giant mouth.
The truck had effectively turned into a weird fleshy monster.
¡°That shit¡¯s not normal, right?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s not something you or your family see all the time, right?¡±
Alice was barely watching the road, her eye wide as she looked into the rear-view mirror. ¡°N-no,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s a new one for me.¡±
I nodded and rolled down my window. ¡°Whelp, they turned their truck into a weird demon thing,¡± I said, leaning out and aiming my Webley awkwardly back at the truck. I couldn¡¯t get the angle with it with my right hand so I swapped to my left. ¡°I say we have a strong argument for self-defense.¡±
I pulled the trigger.
Book 2, Chapter 20
And missed.
The jet-engine scream burst from my gun, missed the windshield of the demon truck by about a foot, and created a red line of hate-powered destruction, ending in a five-foot crater in a hill next to the freeway. I winced.
Ida leaned out behind Alice (probably so we wouldn¡¯t be firing from the same side of the car), braced her left arm against the roof of the car, waited a moment for Alice to find a smooth patch of road, and unloaded a small burst with her MP5. Six bullets found the big eye above the cab in a tight grouping, exploding¡ªsome liquid that might be blood? It was bright yellow. The wind caught the liquid and kept most of it from getting on the windshield below the head.
Over the next couple of seconds, the wounds the bullets made pulsed and winked like a twitching orifice, before the one big eye reformed into half a dozen misshapen eyes, each looking like they came from a different animal. Their one commonality was that they looked pissed.
¡°Oh, beurk,¡± I heard her say with disgust.
Then she lit up the windshield.
The driver was a heavy-set guy wearing a robe similar to the people who attacked us in the food court. His face was obscured by one of those tragic theater masks so I couldn¡¯t tell what his expression was, but I could guess by his panicked and ineffectual wheel jerking that he very much wanted to turn the truck away from the gunfire. Unfortunately for him, the truck was under new management. Ida walked the gun back and forth across the cab and soon I couldn¡¯t see much inside past all the bullet holes. I did my best to forget about the driver.
I took a page from Ida¡¯s book and braced myself against the roof as best as I could, aimed down the sights of the Webley, and waited for a calm stretch of road. Let¡¯s see how this thing healed from the Webley¡ª
¡°Hold on!¡± Alice shouted.
I was almost flung from the car as Alice jerked the thing to the left. If I hadn¡¯t gotten a firm grip on the roof I¡¯d likely be leaving the majority of my skin on the freeway right now. As it was, I had to suddenly tighten my hold on the door frame with enough force that I heard the metal protest. I spread my legs out, one foot catching the side of what felt like a headrest while the other squeezed between my seat and the door. My groin and back protested the awkward angle and I felt like I was doing a shitty dance move in slow motion.
¡°Ow! Watch it!¡± Alice yelled.
Oops, probably kicked her.
¡°Sorry!¡± I grunted, sliding mostly back into the car. Feeling like a dumb ass, I copied what I saw from several action films and just poked my left shoulder and head out of the window while I hugged the back of my seat with my right arm. I braced my left forearm against the side of the car and waited for the truck to dip into view.
That¡¯s when I saw what had made Alice turn suddenly: another truck.
This one wasn¡¯t all ¡°demoned¡± out. At least, not yet. It also wasn¡¯t a U-Haul truck. It was a big industrial flatbed with fence-like sides, the kind you see transporting propane or other gas tanks in bulk. In the back were several cultists¡ªGod do I feel silly every time I think that word¡ªaround a ritual circle that pulsed red even in direct sunlight. As I watched, six hands reached from the center of the circle and gripped the bed of the truck. A vaguely humanoid monster with purple-black skin came out, its face dominated by a pair of mandibles and one giant eye. In all it had eight limbs; six arms and two reverse-joint legs that ended in what looked like parrot feet.
Without even thinking I turned and shot it, my arm moving almost of its own accord. The Webley roared its hate and the top half of the demon exploded into bits, covering this stretch of the 210 with monster parts. I hope they weren¡¯t toxic.
As the remaining half of the monster fell to the side, I saw another six hands reach from the bed of the truck.
¡°Oh, fuck that,¡± I said and aimed at the truck¡¯s engine.
The driver must have sensed my intent (or made a logical deduction), because it swerved to the left and behind us, using my own car to spoil my aim. Tracking the flatbed brought the demon truck into sight, however, so I adjusted my aim and put a round right dead center into the demon truck''s engine.
A new roar followed the scream of the Webley as the front of the demon truck exploded, leaving behind something that didn¡¯t look so much like a vehicle as it did a gory stump. However, the explosion must have damaged the front axle as the left wheel danced in its housing until it bent at an odd angle, slamming into the wheel well. The stopped tire dragged at the front of the truck, which started to spin out until finally falling on its side, leaving behind a truly impressive smear of blood and gore in its wake as it slowed to a stop.
There was a crash and my rear window flew back and away. ¡°Was that really necessary!?¡± I shouted as Ida began firing from the backseat.
Ida waited until her gun ran empty before replying, reloading with smooth efficiency. ¡°You have the money.¡±
I grumbled. I did have the money, yes, but that doesn¡¯t mean it isn¡¯t a pain in the ass to replace a window.
I was griping mostly to keep my mind off of how terrified I was. I knew the state of the car wasn¡¯t important; if breaking a window meant we lived another day, fuck it, let¡¯s break all of them. But holy shit an evil cult was attacking us with demons in broad daylight on a major Los Angeles freeway. What the fuck! Also, were there fewer cars on the freeway than there were a minute ago?
I wrestled my mind back to the task at hand. In the half minute, I was dealing with the demon truck and the distraction of my rear window being kicked out, the second truck had crept up behind us and I could see two of the black-skinned demons scuttling over the cab, preparing to leap.
I leaned a little farther out of the window to take aim at the truck''s engine. Before I could pull the trigger, one of the demons leaped from the top of the cab, deforming it with the jump. I changed targets on the fly and pulled the trigger. The blast from the Webley took off two of its arms but I missed the center mass. The demon landed right on the trunk of my Honda, its remaining four arms slamming into the roof and attempting to get a grip. The car jerked violently as the frost wheels left of the road for a moment from the impact, and it was all Alice could do to keep us from crashing. We swerved and I knocked my head on the side of the car and I saw Ida bouncing around the back seat. I couldn¡¯t see Bogo, and I hoped my not-dog was okay.
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Blinking the pain from my eyes I gathered my magic into a bowling ball-shaped mass of force and slammed it into the thing''s sternum (or what would be a sternum on a human). Just as my power was making contact the demon whipped a hand at my head faster than I could react and grabbed my face. A small, disconnected part of me realized this thing had several thumbs, kind of like a koala. The larger, more task-oriented part of me realized that judging from what I felt of this thing''s grip, it was fucking strong, and keeping up with the current course of action would result in me having a broken neck. The demon would be off the car, though.
I decided I wanted to keep my neck unbroken. I braced my legs on the seat as best I could as the hand on my face tried to yank me out of the car. I reshaped my magic around the hand on my face, not trying to pry it off but to just create a layer of force between it and my skin. With my right hand, I reached up and grabbed its wrist. The original plan was to dig my nails into the wrist but it was too big to get my hand all the way around, so I adjusted my grip and dug my thumbnail in there.
In the space between moments, I inanely wondered if my new nails would be able to pierce demon skin. Sure, I¡¯ve used them to mark wood and can accidentally cut myself, but this would be the first time I¡¯ve tried to use them to inflict harm.
I didn¡¯t need to wonder anymore, because my thumb sank a good third of an inch into the wrist and a howl emitted from the demon on the roof. I felt the grip on my face weaken by a hair and that was when I redoubled my efforts on my magic. I didn¡¯t try to force the hand off my face, instead, I tried to create a frictionless surface between the hand and my skin as I jerked my head back and yanked with my arm.
It mostly worked. The hand came off and didn¡¯t take my head with it, but it did give me some cuts on the sides of my head, one dangerously close to my eye. I yanked again on the arm as I once again condensed my magic, slamming it into the thing''s ribs. I let go as the magic hit it and watched as it was flung off the car to awkwardly fall into the K-rails in the center of the freeway. I was lucky the arms I had shot off had been on my side of the car.
I heard gunshots from the back of the car, but not the ¡°ratatat¡± of the MP5 but the bigger, punchier shots of the 1911 I gave to Ida. Was she out of ammo already? We need to stop at a gun shop if we survive this.
¡°Cops!¡± Alice shouted.
I turned and looked down the freeway. About a mile down the road was a blockade of cop cars across all four lanes of the freeway, reinforced by the boxy SWAT vans. Even at this distance, I could see that every single cop had a gun pointed in our direction.
I guess being chased by cultists and demons while firing hate-beams and other small arms was a little too much for the meager attention wards on my car to handle.
¡°Ida! Get in and hold on!¡± I said, doing likewise. I judged the distance between us and the cops.
¡°What do you think about getting as close to those cops as you can before slamming on the breaks and doing a u-turn?¡± I asked Alice. ¡°I bet that truck can¡¯t stop as well as an Accord.¡±
She shrugged. ¡°I can try,¡± she said. ¡°I know I drive fast but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m a fucking stunt driver. I¡¯m more concerned about the cops shooting at us. Is your car bulletproof?¡±
¡°It¡¯s an Accord,¡± I said, my voice full of incredulity.
¡°I had to ask! You said you enchanted it!¡±
Truthfully, I had reinforced the body and tires with some protective magics. But I didn¡¯t want to do anything really heavy-duty that¡¯d attract the attention of anyone with magical talent. So I doubted the enchantments would hold up against the entire Los Angeles Police force. I imagine it¡¯d be very much like how Robocop can take a shot from a handgun without a problem, but when he¡¯s shot by every cop in the city he nearly bites it.
The 1911 went off rapidly, and there was a large noise as something hit the car. I glanced back just in time to see a dead demon with two holes in its head fall off the trunk, hit the pavement, and then get run over by the truck still tailing us. ¡°Focus!¡± Ida shouted. ¡°Banter later!¡±
¡°I can protect us from bullets, but not the whole car¡ªin fact, we need to be in as small a space as possible,¡± I said as I reached down and hit the chair lever, pushing the back of the seat back. I heard Bogo make a noise of protest. ¡°Sorry, boy.¡±
I muttered something about how we¡¯re all going to have tinnitus as I started to move into the back seat. ¡°We¡¯re going to all be on one side of the car,¡± I said as I pulled myself along. ¡°Me, behind Alice, Ida on my lap, and Bogo on the floor. Alice, do you know any protective spells?¡±
¡°You wanna take over driving so I can cast them?¡± She asked sharply.
¡°Right, so it¡¯s up to me,¡± I said. There were a few awkward moments as I climbed under Ida and she straddled me, keeping her gun trained on the truck behind us. Bogo was stuck under the lowered back of the passenger seat until I hit the lever with my magic, snapping it back up and allowing him to crawl under my feet. It was a very tight squeeze for all of us.
I glanced under Ida¡¯s arm, between the front seats at the line of cops. I could vaguely hear them yelling at us over a megaphone. They were about a quarter mile away.
¡°They got another demon!¡± Ida shouted, making me wince. She was right next to my ear.
¡°When do you want to do this, Colm?!¡± Alice asked, the line of cops getting closer.
¡°On the count of five!¡± I said.
I began to gather my magic around us, starting with the sides and in front of Alice. I wanted to keep the back open in case Ida needed to shoot another demon.
¡°Five!¡±
I started making the porous field that would diffuse the energy of the bullets.
¡°Four!¡±
I backed up the field with a pane of solid force.
¡°Three!¡± I started filling in the area around us with the force, excluding Alice to keep her arms and legs clear to drive.
¡°Two!¡±
¡°We going on one or zero?!¡± Alice asked.
¡°We go on Go!¡± I said through gritted teeth, forming the final layer of protection behind us.
¡°One!¡±
I groaned as I poured as much magic into the protections as I could.
¡°Go!¡±
Alice yanked the wheel 30 degrees and pulled the e-brake, sending the car into a spin and swinging the little Accord¡¯s ass out of the way of the truck. The truck driver tried to keep on us but I was right with my assumption that it couldn¡¯t corner as well as a vehicle a quarter its size and it just turned awkwardly before spinning out. That was the last I saw before I squeezed my eyes shut.
What I guess happened next was the cops saw a truck with a demon or two on it and decided that their bullets were being wasted, just sitting in their magazines all useless. The car came alive with the sounds of metal hitting metal and suddenly it was all I could do to maintain my magic against a swarm of bullets. The small arms fire I barely registered, but the assault rounds slammed through the porous field and into the harder pane of force with such violence it felt like my head was being hit with a hammer.
I was vaguely aware of some screaming, of the car moving, being bounced around. It seemed to go on forever but after a while, it petered off. Someone was shaking me.
¡°Colm,¡± I think it was Ida talking? ¡°COLM! We¡¯re safe! You can stop!¡±
I let the magic fall with a groan. ¡°Are we still moving?¡±
¡°You are full of shit, you know?¡± Alice said. ¡°You enchanted this fucking thing.¡±
¡°Of course I did,¡± I said, glancing around. The entire right side of the car was a disaster. Everything had holes in it, the stuffing from the seats was everywhere. In the roof, I could see several long gouges where bullets and torn a path through. My fancy Bluetooth dashboard was destroyed. None of the windows, nor the windshield, survived.
Bogo crawled out from under my feet and made a distressed noise, before perching on the case of the blood stick. I was relieved to note, that aside from a few dents from a couple of stray bullets, it was intact.
¡°But that was a lot of gunfhbmb¡ª¡° I was cut off by Ida latching onto my face with a fierce kiss.
I was fine with this.
She released me and slid off my lap onto the seat beside me, giving me a self-satisfied smile. I held back a laugh. ¡°But that was a lot of guns and I didn¡¯t enchant the car to defend against a fucking fusillade.¡±
I glanced back at the roadblock. I could just make out a few large demon shapes being blown to bits. Aim for the head, guys.
¡°Fuck!¡± Alice shouted.
I turned around and swore as well.
The demon truck was back.
Book 2, Chapter 21
It was about a mile down the road, and from my vantage, I could see several helicopters trailing it. The truck had grown. In fact, it was less a truck now and more of a giant monster with¡ were those treads? It had four arms sticking out of a malformed torso, with more mechanical appendages sticking out of its ¡°back.¡± I briefly wondered what the purpose of those were, to which I got an answer as they fired something that struck one of the trailing helicopters. I watched as the helicopter began to lose control and fall out of the sky.
I frowned and stuck my head out the window and looked into the air, seeing more than a dozen aircraft circling. Okay, so, we¡¯re probably on national news.
I kicked myself mentally. If I had pulled out all of my equipment as soon as I learned Conner was missing, I could have probably nipped this situation in the bud.
No time like the present.
¡°Get in the front seat,¡± I said to Ida. ¡°I need to get into the trunk. You too, boy.¡±
Bogo shimmied back and then hopped up front, his tail smacking Alice in the face as he passed and caused the car to shudder as she flinched from the unexpected contact. I helped Ida climb forward into the passenger seat and then turned to the seat behind me.
I¡¯ve only ever owned two cars. My first car I got when I was back in college, a 1987 Nissan Sentra that I kept running with hopes, dreams, and duct tape. That car was a piece of shit, but it worked most of the time and was the only transportation inside my friend group. It was such a pain in the ass I immediately looked for a replacement, finding the car I am currently in. I think I only had the Sentra for maybe three months, so I barely consider it the ¡°first¡± car I owned. The Honda was an improvement in every way, as the previous owner had only put like thirty thousand miles on it before selling it to me for the low price of helping him move.
The Honda had a feature I loved. There was a keyhole above the back seat that allows you to lower the backrest of the seat to grant access to the trunk. I¡¯m not a car guy so I don¡¯t know if this is a common feature cars have, but my next car better have it, as it was incredibly handy in this situation.
I formed my TK and manipulated the latch that held the seat up and awkwardly lowered the seat down into my lap, having to move my legs to the floor and angle myself sideways to get my lanky ass out of the way enough to reach inside. I grabbed the false panel that hid my ordnance and hurled it out of the window.
¡°Hold on!¡± Alice screamed.
I dug my fingers into the seat as Alice did some maneuvering. I heard tires screech and an otherworldly roar, followed by a bright red blur as Alice passed the demon truck. There followed a crash that shook the whole car as the door closest to me deformed as something struck it, forcing Alice to spin the wheel and pump the brakes to regain control of the car.
Once the motion of the car calmed down, Alice started to speed up again, but I could tell we weren¡¯t going as fast as before. The engine was making weird noises and the car vibrated worryingly.
¡°I think one of the tires is flat,¡± Alice said.
I glanced out the rear window and saw the demon truck slam three of its ¡°hands¡± into the road and spin on the spot, killing most of its momentum for a nearly perfect 180. It started pulling itself across the road with its arms before the treads began to pick up the slack, speeding up alarmingly fast.
I reached into the trunk and lowered the back wall I had put in. I grabbed the M4A1 rifle with my telekinesis and the extra mags and floated them over to Ida.
¡°You always know what to get me,¡± Ida said, grabbing the rifle out of the air and inspecting it briefly before aiming it out the window.
¡°Hold up,¡± I yelled over the growing wind. With my magic, I also retrieved the grenade launcher and the bandoleer with the six rounds in it. Ida¡¯s eyes lit up when she saw them float over to her.
¡°I forgot you had these,¡± she said as she practically snatched them out of the air, the rifle falling into her lap.
I guess I had shown her my toys during the period I had lost. I shoved aside my frustration with my missing memories and focused my magic on grabbing the case in the trunk. It resisted, and I cursed as I remembered the touch-lock enchantment I had placed on it. I needed to touch it with some part of my body in order to move it. Grumbling about my own paranoia, I awkwardly climbed over the lowered back seat into the trunk and grabbed the handle for the case¡ª
Three spikes that looked to be made from bone punched through the trunk, one scratching the top of the case, one embedded itself into the grenade case and one came dangerously close to pinning my arm to the floor, missing my elbow by less than an inch. Each spike was about a foot long, two inches in diameter at the widest point, and tapered on both ends. They were also slightly slimy, I was distressed to find out as my arm brushed against the one that had nearly hit me.
I lifted myself up a bit and looked through one of the new holes in the trunk, seeing the demon tank((?) Was it a tank now? It had treads and ¡°guns.¡±) gaining on us, now less than a quarter mile away.
I growled as I took a firm grip on the case and heaved, not being able to get a lot of leverage because of the awkward angle, the cramped space, and the bone spike pushing on it from above. I shoved the spike out of the trunk with my magic and tried again, this time lifting the heavy case and mostly dragging it into the backseat. I awkwardly lifted the back of the seat while pulling the case into my lap.
So, a little preface on enchanting that I¡¯ve mostly learned via trial and error; it is possible to put multiple enchantments on something. Because of this, I thought about making a magical item just¡ªjust PACKED with magic so I could whip it out in emergencies and basically blow away any problem with overwhelming magical might. I know how to make spacially-adjacent storage (another word for interdimensional cubbies), so I thought it¡¯d be dope just to reach into nothing and pull out the magical equivalent of an m320 rotary grenade launcher. (I also experimented with just having an actual grenade launcher, but the cold environs of the cubbies create problems with the primers and powder, creating a lot of misfires, so they got tossed into the trunk.)
Sadly, when attempting to make the item, I learned that there was a limit on how many enchantments an item can have, almost exactly the same as how many instructions a ward can have. Put too many enchantments on something, the energies may destroy the item, destroy each other, or¡ªin one case that happened in my back yard¡ªblow up.
I should have known this would be the case, otherwise, the pirates I fought would have had ace-in-the-hole items they would have pulled out at the last minute, instead of weird superpowers that turned them into Final Fantasy bosses.
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There are ways to mitigate this, of course. A stronger basis item being enchanted, for example. Complimentary enchantments, as well. If you enchanted a tennis ball with fire and ice magic as well some kinetic properties, it¡¯d probably just burst during the inscribing process (Or whatever process you use. I happen to like inscription.). But if you put the same enchantments on a bowling ball, it¡¯d probably last a lot longer.
Creating a magical boomstick was out of the question, (at least with the method I was trying), so I had to figure out a new force multiplier. I hounded Alice for more magical manuals, trying to think of something and you know what?
I used to play a lot of video games. I used to watch videos of people making optimal builds, used to talk Dungeons and Dragons theory with my fellow nerds online. And one thing that always came up, again and again, is; when something is overpowered, it¡¯s usually due to one factor.
One thing the game designers didn¡¯t count on. One interaction. Or a specialized skill taken to the extreme. There were outliers to this, especially as games became more complicated. But it remains more true than not, in my experience. So, I thought, if I¡¯m making telekinesis my first spell with Circe¡¯s method, why not make sure it was a fucking banger? I got to work.
I had to source a lot of weird materials for my new toy. This last year I spent most of my time on the phone, it felt like, talking to the girls and the various people around the world drop-shipping my weird material requests, which I then received and did my own treatments with the help of some out-of-towners (ie: things I summoned).
This new project of mine was also another reason I kept pushing back my visit with Alice, as I didn¡¯t want to leave my house and all of its wonderfully dangerous protections without some insurance. Yeah, guns were great, and the Webley was monstrous, but sometimes you wanted something a little more versatile.
I cut my chin with my thumbnail and smeared the blood on the clasps on the case, keeping a pattern in my mind''s eye as it made contact with the case. There was a hiss followed by the restrictive enchantment breaking. A magical aura nearly as strong as my own when I was pissed billowed out of it.
Alice craned her head back to look at me. ¡°You fucking made it?¡±
My reply was cut off as Ida unloaded the M4 at the demon truck, but cut off abruptly to yell at Alice as we almost drifted into the divider. Alice turned around and brought the car back under control. I tried to meet her eyes in the rear-view mirror, only to discover it was gone. Goddamnit, I really liked this car.
I opened the case and inside was six months of some of the most sophisticated magic I¡¯ve ever done, aside from my summoning circle.
It was hard to describe, as it wasn¡¯t really wholly any one thing. The top part of it was similar to a mantle of a cloak or perhaps a tabard, but it would only cover the shoulders and maybe the upper chest. Under that were thick metal plates, similar to football pads or armor. Each plate was connected to the next with a metal connector similar to those used in plate armor. The metal went down the length of an arm, where it terminated in gloves made out of a metallic-looking leather covered in my magical script (mostly Elder Futhark runes with some geometric shapes). The whole thing was various shades of deep black.
¡°How did you bring down the resonance?¡± Alice asked as I began putting it on with the help of my magic.
¡°Combined the control enchantments with the efficiency ones,¡± I grunted as my head poked through the top.
¡°What?!¡± The car swerved, and I can¡¯t be sure if it was because she was dodging something or from her outburst. ¡°You can¡¯t fucking do that!¡±
¡°I did it with my summoning circle, with the computational model and the alignment control parts,¡± I said. ¡°You just gotta figure out where they fit together and arrange them so they get the power they need without interfering with one another, like a circuit board.¡±
¡°Oh!¡± Alice said, venom in her voice. ¡°Simple! Ida, take the wheel.¡±
I frowned and looked to the front of the car. Ida, confused but willing, leaned over and grabbed the wheel. There were no cars in front of us for a good while, likely due to the police closing off this section of the freeway, but I could see a mile or two down the road that would swiftly change.
¡°We need to get off the freeway!¡± I said, strapping on the left arm. Jesus, this thing is heavy.
¡°One moment,¡± Alice said as she leaned out the window, her belt chain in her hands. ¡°You guys have been having all the fun.¡±
She didn¡¯t sound like she was having fun as I felt her magic begin to gather in the chain. She sounded pissed. I glanced at Ida. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you use the grenade?¡±
¡°Too far,¡± she said, shrugging one of her shoulders. ¡°I think it only has a range of around 400 meters. I¡¯ve never actually used one.¡±
¡°That¡¯s a sha¡ª¡°
My words were cut off as sound rocked the car and a flash of light nearly blinded me. Ida got it worse as she was forced to face an awkward angle, holding the wheel. I blinked a few times and when I could see again, Alice was taking the wheel back from a cursing Ida. I turned to look behind me and grinned cruelly.
The truck had a huge gash in its side, like someone had fired a red-hot ice cream scoop at it and caved a trench into it. My grin faltered, however, when I saw the wound bubble and begin to heal, with several more limbs bursting from the wound. Luckily, they weren¡¯t as large as the arms on the back and front, but it wasn¡¯t a great sign.
¡°Fuck, it¡¯s healing,¡± I said. ¡°Growing a bunch of small arms.¡± Ida made a face and Alice swore.
I turned around and pointed at an off-ramp, shoving my arm in front so Alice could see where I was pointing. We couldn¡¯t see the street name because, you know, going the wrong way on the freeway. ¡°There! I think that goes to the hills.¡±
Alice nodded and tried to do the maneuver she did before, but there was a shredding sound and we nearly spun out. There was a terrible scraping noise and I could see sparks fly from my peripheral vision as I was bounced around the car. I knocked my head against the door behind Ida and grabbed her hand in reflex as I saw her bounce toward the open window. We should really put our seat belts back on.
Alice gunned the engine and sawed on the wheel, getting us moving again, but I could tell the old Honda was on its last legs. Luckily the pop was on one of the rear wheels, as the car was a front-drive and I doubt we¡¯d make much headway with one of the front wheels gone.
The spin-out allowed the truck to catch up, now within a couple of hundred yards, and was gaining fast. We had seen that this thing could corner well by using its arms, and I was afraid of what would happen if we got within reach. And I hadn¡¯t gotten the other glove on yet, goddamnit.
The enhancing power of the Mantle (what I decided to call my new toy) didn¡¯t work unless the whole thing was in contact with me, which was one of the drawbacks of the enchantment-saving measures I took. I panicked and began to flop around in the back for the other glove, with my hand and my magic both, but the bump to the noggin was affecting me more than I thought.
Thoomp.
A moment after the noise, the section of the demon truck covered in eyes exploded. The truck swerved back and forth in apparent pain and confusion before suddenly accelerating. Luckily it slammed into the rail on the side of the road, diverting it and making it lose a good portion of its speed. The only problem was, we were heading for the opening that rail ended at.
¡°Gogogogo!¡± I said as I finally got a grip on the glove and began to hammer my hand into it.
You ever see Pacific Rim? Or any giant robot anime? There¡¯s a part in most of them when they connect to their giant mech and a HUD comes up and a voice says something along the lines of ¡°Systems Online.¡± None of that happened with me when the mantle finally connected with me, but it definitely had the same vibe.
It wasn¡¯t like my senses improved, or that I had new information. It was more like¡ like my arms grew several feet. But they weren¡¯t awkward. They remained just as usable, just as efficient. They could just reach more. But it was more than that. It was like I had several pairs.
Now, there was a demon truck barreling towards us. I didn¡¯t know what kinda tonnage a demon truck had, so I didn¡¯t want to try to repeat the kind of trick I did before. Inside, I focused on the back of the car and shoved up the popped wheel, putting more pressure on the front wheels. Suddenly they had more traction as well as a good push and we zipped down the off-ramp just as the demon truck roared by, one of the smaller hands grasping the frame that used to house the window before it was dragged away.
¡°Colm!¡±
I turned at Alice¡¯s yell and saw that the end of the off-ramp was blocked by a couple of police cruisers. My first thought was to use my new expanded capabilities to help us push through, but then had another idea.
¡°Can you knock out those cops?¡± I asked.
¡°When we get closer, yeah. Why?¡±
¡°We need a new ride."
Book 2, Chapter 22
The cops saw us coming and drew their guns. There were five of them, with three cars parked across the end of the offramp. I waited for them to slump to the ground, but they must still be out of Alice¡¯s range as one cop opened fire. The bullet hit the front of the car, making Alice and I curse. I gathered energy to form the bulletproof wall and surprised myself with how easily it came together. In half a second, I formed a shield in front of the car, covering the front and a good deal more with barely any effort. I had to stop myself from doing a mad scientist laugh.
You see, I didn¡¯t have a lot of time to test the Mantle back home. I made sure it was working and wouldn¡¯t blow up, then packed it away so I wouldn¡¯t piss off Alice even more with another delay. The tests I did were mostly about how far away it would extend my reach, if it empowered me at all, etc. But nothing really hammered in results like seeing them in a combat situation.
You could say I was more than a little delighted with the final product.
After the first cop shot at us, it seemed whatever restraint the other cops were holding on to evaporated. Bullets began to hit my shield. I barely felt the strain as the cops were likely only firing 9mm.
We were about a hundred and fifty feet away when Alice suddenly hit the brakes. Simultaneously, the cops rag-dolled and fell to the ground one by one.
¡°Hold on!¡± Alice yelled.
We were going fast, and also downhill, with a missing tire. A hundred and fifty feet wasn¡¯t a lot of space to slow down. I quickly flooded the inside of the car with porous textured telekinetic magic, holding everyone in place with the exception of Alice¡¯s arms and legs. I wasn¡¯t about to be bounced around the car again.
The car collided with the roadblock going about twenty miles an hour. We all rattled around my impromptu collision cage, but the collision was mild otherwise. I released us from the magic and looked around. ¡°Everyone okay?¡±
¡°Yes,¡± Ida said with a shake of her head.
¡°Boof!¡±
¡°I¡¯m going to need an entire bottle of painkillers,¡± Alice muttered while rubbing her temples.
I slammed all the doors open with my magic, as a couple of them didn¡¯t want to open and decided to just give them all the rough treatment. I climbed out of the car, patting myself down as I did. Where was the Webley? Oh God, I hope it didn¡¯t fly out the window during one of the crashes.
I sent my magic into the car and found the gun under the passenger seat. I breathed a sigh of relief as I tugged it out and put it in its holster, glancing up at the freeway as I did. I didn¡¯t see the demon truck, but I also couldn¡¯t see the freeway proper from down here either.
¡°One of you is going to have to drive,¡± Alice groaned as she climbed out of the car, holding her head with one hand. ¡°Taking out five people at that distance took a lot out of me.¡±
Bogo scrambled out of the car and shook himself, bits of broken glass falling out of his fur. He gave me a look that interpreted as ¡°This is a lot more than I signed on for.¡± I gave him a helpless look.
I looked at Ida. ¡°I could¡ª¡±
She shook her head. ¡°We need your magic,¡± she said as she grabbed all the guns from the car and moved to one of the undamaged police cars. She looked through the window and squinted her eyes for a bit. ¡°This one has the keys in it.¡±
She opened the door and tossed her guns in the passenger seat. Then she came back to the Honda and kicked open the trunk, taking more of my arsenal and moving it to the cop car. I went over to help Alice out. ¡°You okay?¡± I asked.
She was rubbing her temples. ¡°Yeah, just need a few minutes¡ª¡±
My danger sense screamed. I dove into her in a tackle while throwing up a telekinetic shield around us.
A second later, half a dozen spikes punched into the wall of magic. I groaned as I felt every impact, like a hammer blow on my mind. These things were way stronger than the three that hit my car. I looked over my shoulder to see the six barbs floating in the air, barely arrested by my magic.
Beyond them, coming down the hill to the left of the offramp, was the pissed-off demon truck. It was sporting a new¡ organ? Sprouting off the side of where the cab used to be. I hesitate to call it a head, even though it is vaguely round because the only defining feature on it was a mass of little two to four-inch cilia that waved in the air in patterns. You could even tell where it was looking because the patterns flowed in the direction of its targets. You know; us.
I dropped my magic and helped Alice up. ¡°Come on, up, up, up,¡± I urged, glancing over my shoulder as the thing came barreling down at us. The protuberances on its back started to pulse, looking like it was about to fire another salvo. I heard a rattling of metal as Ida grabbed what she could from my trunk and tossed it into the cop car before sliding into the driver''s seat.
Alice got the point from my shoving and ran toward the police car, growling under her breath in pain. She slid over the hood Dukes of Hazard style and opened the passenger door, with Bogo jumping in right on her. Alice looked ready to protest but resigned herself to sit with the not-dog and closed the door. I opened the back door and my foot had barely touched the floor seat before Ida gunned the engine and peeled out onto a 4-lane street in the San Fernando hills. At least, I think this is San Fernando. Where the fuck are we? I awkwardly yanked myself into the car while avoiding the door closing on my leg.
¡°Where the fuck are we?¡± I asked as I turned and looked at the demon truck. What is that? Was that a boulder in its hand?
¡°LEFT!¡± I screamed.
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Ida calmly cranked the wheel to the left as I gathered my magic in a ball and shoved it at the boulder. I grunted as the magic and the rock came in contact, the backlash was immense but¡ also muted? I had a feeling the Mantle took care of some of the magical recoil.
Ida¡¯s dodge and my magic were enough to move the boulder off course. It slammed into the road to our right and disintegrated into hundreds of pieces, the force of the crash felt even through the floor of the car. The car fishtailed a bit from the sudden maneuver before Ida got it under control again.
¡°Where the fuck did it get a boulder?¡± Alice asked, eyes wide.
A sudden anger flooded me. I¡¯d largely fallen back into my reactive mindset when we were attacked, similar to what happened last year on the cruise. Fuck that and fuck them.
¡°Take us into the hills,¡± I said.
Ida nodded and started scanning the roads we were passing. Alice suddenly pointed. ¡°There!¡±
Ida dodged a minivan before swinging the car around and going up a two-lane road that only had a few buildings here and there. I noticed some horse paddocks in a couple of properties. A few seconds later, the truck came crashing onto the street, ignoring the intersection for a shortcut of going right through a house. Oh, Christ. I hope no one was home.
As we raced down the road with the truck slowly gaining, I pulled out the Webley and reloaded it. I took the three bullets I hadn¡¯t fired yet and stuffed them in my pocket, pulling out one of the speed loaders I have been keeping on me since leaving Alice¡¯s place. I almost took the time to collect the spent brass, but discarded them as I placed the speed loader (it¡¯s harder to get .455 ammo than regular .45). I snapped the breach closed and felt the gun practically hum with anticipation.
¡°Breaking a window,¡± I said.
The next moment, the rear windshield exploded out as my magic forced the glass from its housing along with the cage above the back seat, which I assumed was there to keep suspects from damaging the glass. I aimed the Webley down the road at the truck, bracing my arms against the back seat.
But just as I was getting ready to fire, the things on the back of the truck suddenly lurched forward and my danger sense warned me. I threw out my magic with a grunt, solidifying it into a multi-layered defense. It wasn¡¯t enough.
Every time that thing fired, the projectiles seemed to get stronger by an order of magnitude. The first spike hit my shield with more power than all the bullets of the cops combined, making me strain. The second and third felt like cannonballs. I quickly changed the shape of the defense to angle the force away, but I wasn¡¯t in time for the fourth spike. It slammed into my defenses and I groaned, barely keeping up the shield. The fifth hit the plane at an angle and skittered off to the side.
The sixth broke through.
Pain exploded in my abdomen as the spike broke my telekinesis, punched through the trunk of the cop car, through the backseat before embedding itself into the side of my belly. I screamed and fell back against the cage separating the front and back of the car.
¡°Colm?!¡± Ida said, looking in the rearview.
¡°Are you okay?¡± Alice said, then gasped when she saw what was wrong. Bogo was whining.
I growled through my teeth and got up awkwardly, pain lancing up my side as the movements forced me to use my core muscles. The low growl I was making became a roar as I fought through the pain and once again drew a bead on the truck, which had gained significantly with Ida¡¯s distraction.
¡°Fuck you,¡± I said and squeezed the trigger again and again, in half-second intervals.
The first shot connected next to the new growth, blowing a chunk out of the top of the truck. The second shot went just below that. The truck tried to break away after the second shot, but I followed it, putting two more shots into its side as it crashed off the road and out of the side, my final shots digging small craters into the road.
¡°Pull over!¡± I yelled.
The girls flinched at the double harmonic that had crept into my voice. Ida complied, sliding the car to a stop. I scooted to the door, but it wouldn¡¯t open. I realized I was in a cop car and tore the door off the car with my magic, my rage making me impatient.
I held the spike in my side with my left hand while I reloaded the Webley awkwardly with my magic, walking to where I had last seen the demon truck. Blood oozed from the wound, but it wasn¡¯t gushing, so I wasn¡¯t in any immediate danger.
As I approached the two still-smoking craters the Webley had made in the asphalt, I began to hear the noises of the truck. At least, what I assumed belonged to the truck. The noises sound wet, with hisses that sounded more like pneumatic breaks. A few more steps and I saw the path of damage it did to the plants and trees that had been on the side of the road during its evasive maneuver.
I rounded a patch of dry vegetation, the truck coming into sight. It was trying to put itself back together, pushing the masses of flesh together that had fallen apart from the force of my gun. I lifted the Webley and fired, aiming for the densest cluster of limbs.
The truck, or whatever was controlling it, obviously didn¡¯t think I¡¯d come back for it. It shuddered, still mostly silent except for the wet slopping and pneumatic hisses. It started to claw toward me, but I fired three more times into its center mass. The third shot caused some chain reaction, and I could finally see the distinct red and white U-Haul design under the mounds of flesh. I fired again, creating a hole in the metal.
As I approached, I formed my magic into a long blade. It had occurred to me that if I can form my magic into a porous surface, or a hard pane of force, why not a blade? As an arm darted for me, I used my new blade made of magic to swipe at it and was elated when the arm went flying. The feedback was more than I expected, so I wouldn¡¯t be able to use it often, but it was another way to defend myself. I used it twice more to cut off another pair of limbs that darted for me. I was lucky I was near the hold I had made because I don¡¯t think I could have used it again.
Gritting my teeth, I climbed across the gory and slime-covered flesh and into the truck. There were several smears on the ground that I recognized from Alice¡¯s description of what happened to the cultists we killed, but there were two more lying insensate in the corner of the truck. The third and final figure stood above a summoning circle, made with the classic pentagram and blood.
Now that I got a good look at him, I was kind of impressed. The robe looked like it was made from a high-quality material, and I could feel the energies woven into it. The dagger in his sash also emitted sadistic magics, obviously something used for nefarious ends. The last time I encountered these assholes, they looked like a bunch of drunks on Halloween.
¡°You will ne¡ª¡±
The man didn¡¯t get to finish his sentence, because I scraped my magic across the circle he was standing over with the full force of my will. The connection he was maintaining crumbled, and I felt the truck settle around us as the flesh that had animated the truck suddenly went limp. The backlash from the interrupted ritual made the cultist shriek in pain¡ªwhich was also interrupted as I walked over and pistol-whipped him.
I sighed and holstered the Webley. The ¡°demon¡± truck wasn¡¯t an actual demon, just a projection from this ritual. Now that it was interrupted, the flesh outside should begin to disintegrate.
Alice and Ida found me dragging the cultist outside the van, the mounds of demonic flesh beginning to putrefy. ¡°Once you¡¯re up to it, you think you can dig in this guy¡¯s brain?¡± I asked. ¡°He might know where Conner is.¡±
Alice nodded, but she was looking at me with worry. Same with Ida. I sighed as I dropped the cultist on the ground.
¡°We¡¯ll talk about it,¡± I said, looking back at the truck. As the flesh began to melt over the truck, I looked down at the stake in my side. It was also deteriorating, but not to the degree of the truck. I guess because it was denser.
¡°Fuck,¡± I said.
¡°Let¡¯s get back to the car,¡± Alice said as she crossed over and lifted the cultist over her shoulder with a grunt. ¡°We¡¯ll find a safe place to patch you up.¡±
Book 2, Chapter 23
Ida tied up the cultist and stuffed him in the trunk of the cop car while Alice helped me get in the back. Once the adrenaline wore off, it became very apparent that I had a big piece of fucking bone in my side and I probably shouldn¡¯t be walking around. Alice helped me into the car and got me settled before going over to help Ida.
I was in double trouble, as I figured it, because the bone was deteriorating. I didn''t know what kind of residue it was leaving behind, but I knew I didn''t want it in my body.
The problem was; we couldn¡¯t just yank out yet. We could hear sirens approaching and we were still being shadowed by half a dozen helicopters. I needed the spike to stay where it is to help keep my blood inside, otherwise, the wound would leak like a broken faucet. So we had to ditch the fuzz before we could find a place to operate.
Normally I¡¯d just draw or cast a hex and kill anything technological within a mile or two and escape in the confusion, but I didn¡¯t want to crash the aircraft. So we needed to get creative.
I leaned over to the window and looked around for a rock big enough for my idea. Thankfully, the hills we were in were a bit rocky, as I spotted one about the size of a watermelon. I grabbed it with my magic and dragged it closer.
Alice came over with a frown, looking at the rock I had dragged over. ¡°What are you doing?¡±
Sweat was beading my face as I focused my magic to a point, and started the process of enchanting the rock. ¡°Attention ward,¡± I said. ¡°Going to put it by the truck and it¡¯ll hopefully make it easier to lose the attention.¡± I gestured vaguely at the sky. The idea was for the rock to attract all the attention it could toward the big flesh truck so that there''d be less focus on us.
Alice nodded, not looking up. We didn¡¯t want to give the aircraft a good look at our faces.
¡°That¡¯s good,¡± she said. ¡°I didn¡¯t think my charm was going to cut it.¡±
¡°What charm?¡± I asked.
She gave a small, somewhat pained smile. ¡°Well, the last time we hung out, all hell broke loose,¡± she said. ¡°So I brought some things in case shit hit the fan.¡±
She gestured around us helplessly.
I winced. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said.
¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Alice said, then paused. ¡°Well, not entirely.¡±
I heard some cursing in French and some ruckus from the trunk. I turned and caught Bogo looking at me with the most concerned dog eyes, chipping away at the rage I¡¯d been banking for the last few minutes. We were separated by the cage between the back and front seats, otherwise, I¡¯d give his ears a good scratch. ¡°I¡¯m going to be okay, boy,¡± I said.
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The trunk slammed shut and a few seconds later Ida appeared, giving a curious glance at the rock that was slowly being covered in runes. Her curiosity drew Alice¡¯s attention to it, who frowned.
¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask; how are you planning on imbuing that?¡± Alice asked with a gesture.
I hesitated, not sure I understood the question. ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m doing it right now.¡±
¡°What?¡± Alice asked, surprised. I felt her extend her magical senses over me and the rock. ¡°How?¡±
I began to shrug but stopped myself, afraid I¡¯d pull on the spike in my side. ¡°I just¡ kinda do? It¡¯s not that different from doing it with a stylus.¡±
Alice gave me an incredulous look. ¡°What?¡± I asked.
She shook her head with a sigh. ¡°When we have a quiet moment we need to have a talk,¡± she said as he pulled open the driver''s door and grabbed her purse. I hadn¡¯t even noticed it on her when I pulled her from the Honda. ¡°Right now, we gotta lose the cops. How long until that rock is done?¡±
A lot quicker if you stopped asking me questions, I thought but didn¡¯t say. Ida caught my eye though and I could tell she knew what I was thinking. I winked at her but made sure my mental defenses were still up before replying. ¡°Another few seconds. I¡¯m adding a couple of lines to erase the ward in a few hours. You got something to get us out of this?¡±
Alice nodded and pulled out a thick piece of paper, densely packed with Latin script. ¡°This,¡± she said. ¡°Won¡¯t stop any determined practitioners from tracking us, but this should basically make any civilian think we¡¯re a family of three driving a mini-van. We¡¯ll need to cover the markings on the car and remove the lights from the top though.¡±
¡°I can get the lights once I¡¯m done with the rock,¡± I said. ¡°Gimme a few seconds to finish it up.¡±
The sirens were really starting to get loud. I hurried the attention ward and its little self-destruct timer and dragged it with my magic as close to the truck as I could, before giving it a shove and rolling it down the hill in the general direction of the crash. I had also put a slight strengthening enchantment on the rock, so the trip down the hill wouldn¡¯t destroy one of the runes I¡¯d carved on it.
The girls had a little pow-wow on how to cover up the markings of the cop car. A couple of ideas were tossed around, from scraping the paint with a knife to burning the ¡°Protect and Serve¡± with a road flair. Luckily Ida found some duct tape in the glove compartment and they got to work taping over the markings on the car.
I¡¯m not 100% sure why we were doing it, but it probably had something to do with the mental magic Alice was about to use.
Since I was done with the rock, I felt around on top of the car with my magic to see how hard it would be to remove it. I couldn¡¯t quite ¡°see¡± with my magic, but I could judge what was there and what wasn¡¯t due to resistance. The closest thing I could liken it to would be telling the shape of a room based on the noise you made, except mine was a bit more precise as the noise and the ¡°ear¡± were the same thing.
Okay, that was a shitty analogy. I might be losing more blood than I thought.
After a bit of fumbling I simply ripped the lights from their mounting with the help of the Mantle. ¡°Jesus!¡± Alice exclaimed from outside the car. ¡°A little warning next time!¡±
¡°Sorry,¡± I said. Sweat was beginning to drip off my face and the exertion between the rock and the lights took a lot out of me. I was struggling to stay awake.
¡°Ida?¡± I asked. I had to repeat her name again before she could hear me. I must be weaker than I thought.
She appeared at my door, took one look at me, and swore. ¡°Alice!¡± She said a moment later. ¡°We need to go; now. Colm¡¯s getting worse.¡±
¡°This¡¯ll have to do, then,¡± Alice said as she slapped one last stretch of tape on the side of the car. I tried to pay attention but my vision was narrowing to a point.
¡°Colm,¡± Ida said, climbing in next to me. I could hear Bogo making concerned dog noises. Yeah, me too, buddy. ¡°Colm, stay awake. You hear me?¡±
I¡¯d love to stay awake.
I really would.
I¡
Book 2, Chapter 24
In the void again.
The same fear began to creep up as some part of me recognized the situation¡ but an equal part of me was irritated. Is this big fuck-all evil cloud going to kill me or what? Shit, or get off the pot, man.
I turned in a slow circle, realizing I was standing on a disc floating in space. At first, I thought it was black, but upon crouching down and getting a closer look, I discovered it was reflective.
I looked like shit.
I¡¯m a pretty harsh judge of my own looks but even by my self-deprecating standards, I looked haggard. My eyes were sunken and the bags under my eyes were almost bruised looking. My skin (that wasn¡¯t black as ink) was pale and thin-looking, almost translucent. You could see the veins in my face. My normally untamed and poofy hair was plastered to my scalp and neck with sweat and grease, a few strands falling in my vision.
I stood with some effort, feeling sore. I spotted the growing clouds of evil blackness billowing some distance out, but for some reason couldn¡¯t muster the energy to care. I was¡ just tired of being afraid.
Afraid of my father. Afraid of losing my friends. Fear of losing my life. Fear of a fate worse than death. Afraid for my new friends. Afraid for my brother.
I remembered feeling this way before. It was like emotional burnout¡ or perhaps apathy? Can you injure your emotions from overuse like pulling a muscle? Have I reached my capacity for fear and now I¡¯m just left with a sense of inevitability?
The clouds were getting closer, and I could feel their weight. No, weight was the wrong word. It was like the clouds had their own gravity, but instead of pulling things in, it began to wear you down spiritually. Like the edge of a sandstorm, rasping away at your soul one small increment at a time.
And it wasn¡¯t even here yet.
I had a vague sense of familiarity with this situation. I could just barely remember that the big, star-sized cloud bank had approached me before¡ but the details were hazy. I remember the terror. That stood out. But what happened after the terror? Obviously, I survived.
Fuck it. Let¡¯s wait for the thing.
I slowly lowered myself to sit on the disk with a groan, feeling a pain in my side I couldn¡¯t explain. Sweat gathered on my face as I waited for the billowing darkness to arrive.
It took its fucking time. You¡¯d think something as big as a star with the aura of a sandblaster would be able to cover more ground. Over the next few minutes, I studied the blacker-than-black clouds, only able to tell their shape as they blotted out the stars around them. As it approached, the grating feeling increased from uncomfortable to nigh-unbearable. Yet I didn¡¯t flee. Where could I flee to? I was on this fucking disk.
I continued to inwardly grouse about the slow progress and the incredible discomfort of what I could call my soul. But, seemingly between one blink and the next, everything in front of me, all the stars and vast expanse of space disappeared and the discomforting aura felt like a dozen sledgehammers hitting my psyche all at once.
It seemed to go on forever, but aside from the pain-that-wasn¡¯t-quite-pain, I didn¡¯t seem to take any damage. After a subjective eternity, I started to get used to the sensation enough to look up at the blackness.
I looked from side to side and saw that the thing wasn¡¯t even that close. It¡¯s hard to judge distances with no landmarks, but I¡¯d guess the vast blackness wasn¡¯t within ten thousand miles. But I guess it¡¯s all relative, right? To something star-sized, ten thousand miles is a trip to the fridge. (But then again, I don¡¯t even know how to judge ten thousand miles in a glance. For all I know it could be billions.)
I had slumped over on my side when the pressure on my spirit had become unbearable, so I slowly (with many grunts and groans) pushed myself up to a sitting position again. I looked up at the seemingly endless black and waited.
...and waited.
¡°Well?!¡± I yelled. ¡°I haven¡¯t got all day!¡±
Considering where I was, I may be having a psychotic break. I imagined Alice and Ida forcing me to sit in a chair as I yelled at Bogo, thinking the poor not-dog was some evil space cloud. I hoped the little guy was safe.
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Suddenly I could see something within the black. The old fear returned by degrees as a¡ protrusion of cloud-stuff started forming in the vast expanse of black. I don¡¯t know how I could see it, as there still wasn¡¯t any light. I had changed my eyes to see in the dark, but they didn¡¯t work in complete darkness. They still had retinas, they still needed light. How the fuck was I seeing this?
The new shape was like a tendril slowly lengthening, approaching me at a sedate pace. I was suddenly reminded of the water tentacle from The Abyss. This thing approaching me gave me a similar vibe, though more sinister as it was made out of whatever cosmic blackness was in front of me and not salt water.
As it approached, I suddenly realized that the sedate pace it was moving at was actually quite fast, crossing many miles every second. Shouldn¡¯t there be a sonic boom? Or is there air? How am I breathing? I¡ª
My ruminations were interrupted by the arrival of the space cloud tentacle. It stopped just short of my disk and just kinda floated there. In the distance, it had looked quite small, but up close it was easily bigger than an aircraft hanger in width. I gaped up at it for a while before once again growing impatient. Was I supposed to do something?
While I didn¡¯t feel I was in any danger from the aura this thing was giving off, it was incredibly uncomfortable (though, again, not quite painful). I wanted whatever this was to get over with ASAP. So I struggled to my feet and walked a couple of paces to the edge of the disk.
This seemed to be what the space cloud wanted, as the tentacle underwent a change. The tip of it irised open, but less a mechanical function and more¡ fleshy. What I am now calling the orifice slowly opened, and the pressure I was under suddenly doubled, hitting me in the chest like a fire hose. It didn¡¯t have any actual, physical force, but I still stumbled back and fell on my ass as my soul was suddenly assaulted by a military-grade rock polisher.
It was all I could do to maintain my sanity and force myself to look toward the opening. I could see a figure in there, alien in shape but¡ªunbelievably, somehow familiar. It reached toward me with something and¡ª
* * *
A wet something was poking my face. Something vaguely dog breathy. I groaned and tried to roll away, but stopped as a lance of pain went up my side.
¡°Boof!¡±
¡°Hey boy,¡± I said without opening my eyes.
¡°Boof!¡±
¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine,¡± I said. ¡°Or I hope I will be. Are the girls around?¡±
¡°Boof,¡± Bogo said, followed quickly by his nails scratching across the floor. I assume he left to find the ladies.
I lay on what felt like a couch. I cracked open my eyes to see my chest and abdomen covered in layers of foul-smelling gauze. I frowned and gingerly touched my side, wincing with the pain that resulted. I smelled the finger that had touched the bandage and wrinkled my nose. It smelled infected. Or¡ rotting, might be a better word.
I blinked my eyes a few times to get some moisture in them and studied the room. It appeared to be¡ a house? There was an entertainment center, a sliding glass door, and what looked like a kitchen through the other door that I could see. The place was decorated in wood accents and off-white paint, with stained hardwood floors. I tried to sit up to get a better look around the room but the pain in my side stopped me.
A minute later Alice came from somewhere behind me, kneeling next to me. ¡°How are you doing?¡± She asked as she put the back of her hand on my forehead.
¡°Like I was stabbed by a demon truck,¡± I replied. ¡°I don¡¯t seem to be able to move much. What happened to that healing trick you can do? Not to sound ungrateful, mind you.¡±
She winced. ¡°That spell requires a specific reagent that I only could only salvage a little of,¡± she said and held up her purse. I hadn¡¯t noticed this morning (or yesterday?), but there was a bullet hole through the side that exited the corner. She reached in and pulled out a broken vial.
¡°Sap from the bodhi, ash from an ash tree from the isle of T¨ªr na n¨®g, and honey created by bees with access to a thousand unique flower species,¡± Alice listed.
I tried to process what she said. ¡°T¨ªr na n¨®g¡¯s real?¡± I asked.
She smiled and nodded. ¡°I did what I could with what little I had left, but I only had enough to clear your system of whatever that spike was pumping into you. But I couldn¡¯t get all of it, and we¡¯ve cleared out several Walgreens and CVSs in a twenty-mile radius of their gauze. Ida¡¯s out getting more.¡±
If I could lay my head back further, I would have done so now for dramatic effect. ¡°Fuck,¡± I said after a beat. ¡°What¡¯s the prognosis?¡±
¡°Well, there¡¯s good news and bad news,¡± Alice said as she put her purse on the ground and pulled out her phone. ¡°The good news is that you are recovering on your own. Did you beef up your immune system?¡±
¡°Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell,¡± I said while meeting her eyes. She raised an eyebrow at me. ¡°But yes,¡± I continued. ¡°I kinda went on a few forums and floated an idea about how, if one could change their bodies, how they would make them better. I picked from the guys that sourced their ideas from medical texts.¡±
¡°Colm,¡± Alice said disapprovingly.
¡°I know, but I was safe, and I really did do a lot of research,¡± I said sheepishly. ¡°But you¡¯ve now had to put me back together twice. I needed¡ªno, I need to be able to recover quicker.¡± I gestured at my bandages.
She gave me a worried look before relenting and began tapping on her phone. ¡°What¡¯s the bad news?¡± I prompted.
Alice didn¡¯t answer but showed me her phone. On it was a picture of my side, with the gruesome wound. I began to ask what she was showing me, but then I saw it. Under the blood, the edges of the skin and the organs within the wound were the same shade of black as my hands.
¡°Ah,¡± I said.
Book 2, Chapter 25
I don¡¯t know quite how to feel. Some of the apathy from the dream still clung to me, I guess. The¡ infection, for lack of a better word, of the black cells had spread to my midsection somehow. If it had spread from my extremities, around an inch in a year, what did that mean for another patch, roughly centered? Would that be half the time left I had until I was completely infected? Quarter of it?
If this thing was a cancer, I¡¯d be fucked. Cancer¡¯s lethality spiked when it hit a major organ. And now a portion of my intestines, maybe even my kidney, was infected. I didn¡¯t even know what this thing was doing to me, except making my skin a little tougher and my nails metallic. Hell, I hadn¡¯t used the Limbs of the Other Side in over a year. I wasn¡¯t sure they were the source of this problem. Maybe just an instigator?
Just¡ fuck me.
¡°Colm?¡± Alice asked, looking concerned.
I realized Alice had been saying something while I was deep in thought. I blinked and focused on her. ¡°Sorry, I¡ what did you say?¡±
¡°We should probably get you to Doctor Cross,¡± she said gently. ¡°We¡¯re back in the area, and¡ª¡°
I sighed and shook my head, then paused. I was gravely wounded, and the doc was already working on my problem. I turned my head to the side and saw Bogo waiting. I swore softly.
¡°We have to find the end of the trail,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ve been delayed too much already.¡±
¡°Colm, finding your brother is super important, but you won¡¯t be able to help him if you¡¯re fucking dead,¡± Alice said with some heat in her voice.
I nodded slowly. ¡°I agree, but Bogo over there can¡¯t eat until he finds his mark,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s part of what makes him such a good tracker. If the hunt takes too long, he¡¯ll be yanked back by his owner and I¡¯ll suffer the backlash. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d survive that even if I was healthy.¡±
Alice made a frustrated noise. ¡°That would have been nice to know before you went ahead and summoned him!¡±
I nodded slowly, with a wince. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said with no energy. ¡°Things kinda went tits-up.¡±
Alice made a frustrated noise. ¡°I¡¯ll see if she can meet up with us. She doesn¡¯t do house calls but this is an emergency.¡±
¡°Tell her I¡¯ll pay her whatever she wants,¡± I said.
I thought about that. ¡°Within reason. I¡¯m not a billionaire.¡±
Alice muttered something. I caught ¡°crazy idiot¡± and ¡°killing himself¡± as she tapped on her phone a few times and walked away.
Bogo appeared at my side and made a whining noise, which showed his monstrous mouth briefly. I reached over and rubbed his head. ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll get moving as soon as we can.¡±
¡°Hff,¡± Bogo said and nuzzled my hand. He turned and crossed to a corner of the room where he lay down, his head resting on his front paws, his big sad eyes on me.
I should get a dog when this is over. One that wasn¡¯t half mouth.
* * *
I must have drifted off because the next thing I felt was a sharp pain in my side. I hissed through my teeth and flinched.
¡°Sorry,¡± Ida said. ¡°Changing your dressing.¡±
I opened my eyes to see my bare torso, with Ida holding a new pad of gauze over my wound. She was about to start taping it down when I grabbed her hand. ¡°Wait,¡± I said. ¡°L-let me see it.¡±
Ida paled a bit but nodded, lifting the gauze.
It wasn¡¯t gaping open like it had in Alice¡¯s picture, which I guess was good. Someone, likely Alice, had stitched it closed. But the edges of the wound were the same black as my hands and feet. But unlike my limbs, little tendrils that reminded me of the one from my dream were poking out from the wound, making it resemble a shitty drawing of an amoeba.
It was also steadily leaking a brown, clear liquid that smelled like shit.
¡°Yeah, okay, I¡¯m good,¡± I said and closed my eyes.
I kept my hisses of pain to a minimum as Ida cleaned the wound again and covered it up. Her ministrations were short and confident, and I was taped up in under a minute.
¡°Alice said she managed to close up most of the internal damage,¡± Ida began as she started to put away her supplies in a little carrying case¡ no that was a straight-up tackle box. ¡°But she had to rush as she didn¡¯t have a lot of that ointment. You¡¯ve been leaking that stuff since.¡±
I opened my eyes to study her. She wasn¡¯t looking at me, but rather at her disposable gloves on her hands. She was kneeling on the floor, the old dressings in a plastic back tied off to keep the smell contained. ¡°We almost took you to the ER, but shortly after she had to stop, you stopped bleeding and you seemed to get better.¡±
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¡°I¡¯ve made some changes,¡± I said softly. ¡°I¡¯m a bit heartier than I was on the island.¡±
She looked up at me, and I could see there was some emotion in her eyes. She hadn¡¯t been crying, but there was a weight there that I empathized with. It felt similar to my own emotional turmoil.
¡°Enough to heal this?¡± She asked, tilting her head toward my wound.
¡°Eeeehh,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s kinda hard to test these kinds of improvements, you know? I¡¯m not about to impale myself to measure recovery rates.¡±
She gave me a strained smile and nodded. After a few seconds, she pulled off her gloves and rolled back onto her heels, and was about to walk away until I grabbed her hand again. ¡°Hey, uh¡¡±
Ida turned and looked at me curiously.
¡°I just¡¡± I began, not really sure what I was trying to say. ¡°I¡ªI wanted to thank you, for coming along for all of this. This was supposed to be a fun get-together, and¡ªand another one of my fucked-up problems gobbled up our time. I¡ªThank you. I mean it.¡±
A warm smile lit up her face and she lifted my hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on my knuckles. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± she said.
She looked at the bag of gauze and the tackle box, sighed, and let go of my hand. She disappeared for a few moments before she came back with a folding chair. She plopped down into it so she was sitting beside me, her hands clasped in front of her as she seemed to wrestle with something. I frowned in concern but otherwise gave her time.
¡°I haven¡¯t been completely honest about this visit,¡± Ida said at last. ¡°You have so much on your plate already, I wasn¡¯t even sure if I should bring it up.¡± Her eyes lingered on my wound for a moment. ¡°But¡ things have been so hectic, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll have a chance to bring it up again. I don¡¯t want some complication I¡¯m involved in to blindside you.¡±
I felt a wave of guilt as Alice¡¯s words from a little while ago echoed in my head. I pushed it aside as best as I could. ¡°Are you in danger?¡±
She blew out a breath, blowing her bangs out of her eyes as she flopped back in the chair. ¡°I can¡¯t go back home.¡±
I frowned. ¡°Like, to your mom''s place?¡±
¡°To France,¡± she said with a sigh
¡°What? Why?¡±
¡°It is¡ a fucking mess,¡± she said with some venom. ¡°After the cruise, there was an investigation done by Interpol. I took your advice and didn¡¯t tell them about all the monsters and magic, and instead said that the traffickers believed in the occult and had methods that stopped me from being able to report in. The prisoners and people from the cruise were happy to shout about the magic and other craziness, and many began to disappear.¡±
She ran a hand done her ponytail and started to fidget with it as she talked. ¡°No one liked the situation, and it became apparent I was going to be used as a scapegoat, or at the very least made to disappear.¡±
I had a dozen questions pop up. I pushed them aside for now. ¡°I assumed they didn¡¯t try you since you¡¯re here?¡±
¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°They did. But my father pulled some strings and got them to reduce the charges. But the investigation is still ongoing, and I kept being pulled in by one arm of the government after another. My father tried to shield me, but even his reach has limits. I had to flee the country.
¡°It was a compromise,¡± she said. ¡°Someone was pressuring Interpol and the French government to quickly tie off the investigation. For my father¡¯s cooperation, they allowed me to leave under an assumed identity. I can¡¯t go back to Europe or the deal is off.¡±
I took a moment to let it soak in. ¡°Holy shit¡¡±
¡°As I said, I wasn¡¯t even going to bring it up, but¡ª¡° she made a broad gesture. ¡°More magical craziness keeps happening. We¡¯ve traveled over two thousand miles in under a week!¡± She tugged on her ponytail again. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to have to suddenly explain why I had to stay behind if you had to go to Europe to find your brother.¡±
"Why didn''t you bring it up on the calls?" I asked. "We''ve been Facetiming for months."
She made a frustrated sound. "I couldn''t," she said. "My father said that any talk of the investigation or my involvement with the traffickers would give them, whoever ''they'' were, more incentive to come after me. Honestly, he didn''t even want me to be in contact with you at all, but you and Alice were the only people that made me retain my sanity. Everyone back home acted like I was a lunatic.
"After a few months, people acted like the entire two years I was undercover simply didn''t happen. My exemplary work record, thousands of witness accounts, and piles of evidence. All of it was just shut away or disappeared."
She rubbed her face with her hands, and I saw them shake for a bit. "I survived two years amidst murderers and rapists, and my entire country not only wanted me to forget it, but also tried to make me disappear."
I didn¡¯t know what to say, and my silence stretched until it became uncomfortable. I was dead tired and wounded, which was hampering my ability to process this. So instead of using my mouth, I held out my hand for her.
She took my hand and I brought hers to my lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles like she had done mine. Ida smiled sadly.
¡°That fucking blows,¡± I said, deadpan.
Ida snorted out a laugh and pretend swatted me.
¡°Seriously, though, is your dad a bigwig? You never talk about him,¡± I asked.
¡°He¡¯s a pig,¡± Ida said callously. ¡°But he¡¯s a high-ranking member of the Minist¨¨re de la Justice. Providing my escape from the country might be the only good thing he¡¯s ever done for me.¡±
¡°Shitty dad club,¡± I said weakly and held up my hand for a high five. She snorted and gave my hand a slap.
I smiled sadly and held her gaze. ¡°Thank you for telling me,¡± I said. ¡°If you need help, say the word and I¡¯ll show up and¡ probably make everything worse.¡±
Ida¡¯s eyes widened and she started laughing helplessly.
¡°I mean it,¡± I continued. ¡°I have a gift. Demons, pirates, weird eldritch plagues. I should be listed as a hazardous material. I don¡¯t know why you hang out with me.¡±
Ida laughed for a half minute before she calmed down enough to lean forward and press her forehead to mine. ¡°Yes,¡± she said, her eyes boring into mine. ¡°It is a mystery.¡±
We were about to kiss but were interrupted by an outburst of Spanish on the other side of the house. Ida straightened up with a frown.
¡°Sounds like negotiations with the doc aren¡¯t going well,¡± I muttered.
¡°No, she got off the phone with the doctor half an hour ago,¡± Ida said. ¡°The doctor couldn¡¯t make it, but is sending her nurse who has a way with healing magic.¡±
I felt a dread I hadn¡¯t been aware of melt away. ¡°Oh, good,¡± I said, relief flooding through me. ¡°Do you know who she¡¯s on the phone with now?¡±
¡°Her mother.¡±
There was another burst of yelling in Spanish.
¡°Sounds like it¡¯s going well,¡± I deadpanned.
Ida hummed in agreement.
Book 2, Chapter 26
I tried to stay awake to eavesdrop, but I know maybe 4 phrases in Spanish and a smattering of words, mostly from the movie Man on Fire because Denzel Washington had a habit of repeating words. I asked Ida to wake me up when the nurse arrived and surrendered to sleep.
Next thing I knew I was in space again. Except¡ no, it was the night sky. In a place where the sky was unfamiliar. I didn¡¯t recognize any constellations and the stars were red-tinged, kinda like how Mars looked to the naked eye¡ except all of them. I looked down and found myself standing on a small hill in a fast valley of nothing. The only light was the stars, which was plenty for me, and even with my mild near-sightedness, I could tell that the valley exceeded the curve of the planet in every direction. The air was stale and dry, reminiscent of a closet or a cellar.
The vague sense of familiarity returned and I once again faced the sky, looking for the perennial mass of clouds. It took some effort to spot it, because it was much smaller¡ or perhaps further away? No, no it was definitely smaller. I could tell because of the corona of heat that bloomed around it as it entered the atmosphere of this barren world. I briefly considered running, as it was coming right for me. I discarded the idea almost as soon as it came, however. Where would I go? I supposed I could create a pit with my magic and try to hide from what I assumed to be a massive explosion that way¡ but nah.
Let¡¯s see what this thing had for me.
As it approached I could tell some of its mass was burning off. Or condensing? I didn¡¯t see debris as it fell, but it was definitely getting smaller. I¡¯d call it the size of an island now. Maybe Maui?
I tried to stay calm as it approached, but I¡¯ve never had to stand and contemplate a landmass falling towards me. It¡¯s not something that lends itself to calm repose. Again doubts and echoes of the old terror tried to burst down the doors to the control center of my brain, but I refused to listen to them. Why was this fucking cloud hounding me, goddamnit?
When the cloud got close enough that I thought it was going to hit me, it stopped. About a quarter mile in the air. The shockwave created by all that mass suddenly stopping knocked me back with enough force to make me tumble. When I came to a stop several dozen yards away, I idly remarked that I was unhurt and climbed back to my feet. I slowly walked back to the small hill and resumed the position I had maintained.
¡°What the fuck do you want?!¡± I screamed at the floating ball of darkness.
Nothing happened for several moments. I was about to give up and try to figure out a way to get up there when the entire ball shuddered.
A giant, black-on-black-on-black eye opened in the center. The terror came back like a physical blow.
* * *
I awoke with a gasp that turned into a groan, having inadvertently strained my side when I startled awake.
¡°Colm?¡± I heard Ida say from across the room. There was another set of footsteps with her. ¡°I was just about to wake you. The nurse just arrived.¡±
I made a non-committal noise through my teeth, trying to calm down so the pain in my side would lessen.
Suddenly there was a slightly familiar woman next to me, wearing an N95 mask and holding the sides of my face in nitrile-gloved hands. ¡°Mr. Avery?¡±
¡°That¡¯s me,¡± I said through gritted teeth. ¡°Sorry, I just woke up from a nightmare and tweaked my side.¡±
¡°I need you to look into my eyes,¡± she said, holding my head gently. ¡°I¡¯m not doing any magic, I just need to see your pupils.¡±
I complied, looking into her eyes. They were green. She released my head and held up a finger. ¡°Follow my finger with your eyes,¡± she said.
She ran me through a few more triage tests. She was wearing a T-shirt from a band I wasn¡¯t familiar with and a pair of old worn jeans. Ida hung around, helping the nurse (what was her name? Cuper? Cooper?) by bringing a chair for her to sit next to me or anything else she asked for. I couldn¡¯t hear Alice anywhere in the building.
¡°Alright, now we got all the boring stuff out of the way,¡± the nurse said and she pulled out a sports bottle with a squirt top filled with a bright green liquid. ¡°Have you been healed before?¡±
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¡°Twice,¡± I said. ¡°Once was this morning.¡±
¡°Do you know the method?¡± She asked.
I thought for a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t, actually. Both times I was near comatose and didn¡¯t think to ask,¡± I turned to Ida. ¡°Is Alice around?¡±
She shook her head. ¡°After her phone call she took the¡ª¡°she hesitated. ¡°The police car to see what she could find out.¡±
Oh, she went to interrogate the cultist and didn¡¯t want to do it near the nurse.
I frowned. ¡°Well, I know the ingredients,¡± I said. ¡°Will that help?¡±
The nurse nodded. I repeated them for her and her and she nodded knowingly.
¡°C¨¦cht¡¯s Well,¡± she muttered. ¡°Great spell if you can source the ingredients. The one I¡¯m going to be using isn¡¯t nearly as thorough as that one, but the ingredients are much easier to get your hands on. Are we ready?¡±
¡°Yeah, just¡ªjust start slow,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve done some things to my body and I kinda need to give you admin permissions to be able to not kill me.¡±
I was given a long look. ¡°Like a computer?¡± She asked slowly.
I shrugged one shoulder helplessly. ¡°It¡¯s the easiest comparison I can give.¡±
Back in the times before I¡¯d fought nearly a hundred pirates and a few warlocks, I¡¯d sold the souls of a few very, very bad people in order to make changes to my body. Over the years I¡¯d made a bunch of changes, some good, a lot bad. Recovering from a bad change took months. One such change was I¡¯d given myself vampire teeth, and getting them back to normal had taken so long that once they got ¡°mostly¡± there I just gave up and started on other experiments.
The gift was not intuitive in its use. Imagine that every cell in your body had a drop-down menu with thousands of commands. Now imagine that you can group a bunch of cells together and give commands to those cells, but selecting which cell was in the group and what wasn¡¯t was a real pain in the ass and also not an exact process. For every change you made to a group of cells, you had to issue a series of¡ªfor lack of a better word¡ªcommands, that would change how their protein structures align and other stuff that I barely understand. I got a D in biology folks, I don¡¯t know why I thought this was a good idea.
The problem becomes that these things have to operate in perpetuity or my body loses the bulk of whatever change I made. So when an outside source of change comes in (say, healing magic) and tries to move stuff around, the changes I¡¯ve made to my body fight back.
This is just the best way that I can describe it. The actual process is much more¡ intuitive? It¡¯s like trying to get a specific muscle to flex, but the muscle doesn¡¯t exist. I''ve gotten better at it over the years and even made real strides in the past year, but it was still a very slow process.
Like I said; it''s kind of a pain in the ass.
¡°Alright,¡± she said, drawing out the word.
She removed the bandages around the wound and inspected it for a bit before nodding to herself. Then she twisted the top of the sports bottle and shot the liquid right next to the wound, which came out with the consistency of shampoo. Once there was a big glob of it on my chest she gently pushed it over the wound and as gently as she could, spread it around it. Once it was good and coated she put both her hands around the wound and looked at me.
¡°I¡¯m going to start now,¡± she said, and I gave her a weak thumbs up.
I half expected to suddenly convulse like I had on the ship a year ago, but I just felt my muscles tightening as the energy crept into me. I sunk into myself and started telling my body to ignore the foreign energy, to allow it to make changes. After a minute or so, the energy started to flow in a torrent. But the gates were open, so to speak, and there were no problems.
After five minutes the energy suddenly stopped and the nurse made a concerned noise. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I asked.
She lifted her hands and gestured wordlessly at the wound. It only took me a moment to find what had made her stop.
The wound looked markedly better than it did just minutes ago. It wasn¡¯t completely healed, but just another few minutes under the spell and it should be safe to take out the stitches. The problem was that the black flesh was growing in time with the healing. Where before the little black tendrils had spread maybe an inch from the stab, they now covered a significant portion of my side, and the area around the wound was about half an inch of solid black.
¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she said. ¡°I should have spotted the spread sooner, but I had my eyes closed while I concentrated on the spell.¡±
I sighed. I spent a few moments thinking about what to do but¡ there really wasn¡¯t a choice, was there? I needed to find Conner.
¡°Just keep going,¡± I said with resignation. ¡°I need to be able to move in case I get attacked again.¡±
The nurse was obviously reluctant but did as I asked. After that, the healing went on for another half hour without interruption, the nurse stopping twice to cover the wound with more green goop.
¡°That¡¯s as much as I can do safely,¡± she said as she straightened and stretched her back. ¡°Any more and I might interfere with your body¡¯s natural functions.¡±
The tendrils covered a good¡ I wanna say forty-five percent of my abdomen, reaching as far as my back before they stopped. I kept the worry off my face as I thanked the nurse and arranged for her payment.
¡°What spell is that?¡± I asked. It could come in handy.
She shrugged. ¡°It isn¡¯t a standard spell,¡± she said. ¡°Something Doctor Cross and I came up with. If you¡¯re looking for a healing spell, though, I recommend Apollo¡¯s Light. It¡¯s pretty common and not nearly as effective as what I¡¯ve done today, but you don¡¯t need to have a strong medical foundation to draw upon to use it.¡±
¡°Sounds right up my alley,¡± I said with a smile. ¡°Thanks for patching me up.¡±
She nodded and gathered her things. I left to go find a shower.
Then I needed to poke Alice and find out why she had been yelling at her mom. And also what she managed to dig out of the cultist''s head.
Christ. What a day.
Book 2, Chapter 27
Standing up, I finally got a good look at the room I was in. The wall I hadn¡¯t been able to see from the couch had a few pictures of a good-looking family. Under the pictures was a floating shelf with a few horse-themed trophies that I didn¡¯t bother to read.
The nurse came back, with new gloves on her hands. ¡°Okay, so,¡± she said, pointing at my side. ¡°I took some samples for the doctor and recorded everything I noticed about the whole¡ª¡°she gestured again at the wound, or rather, the blackness spreading from it. ¡°¡ªthat, situation. Here¡¯s what you should know about your aftercare; you¡¯re going to be sore for a few weeks. Avoid strenuous activity as much as possible for the first week.¡±
I grimaced. ¡°That¡¯s probably going to be a problem,¡± I said. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to sit around right now.¡±
The nurse nodded. ¡°I figured, but I gotta say it anyway. The spell I used basically forced a bunch of new cells to grow, made from the goop I poured on you. They are fragile and are meant to facilitate your body creating its own cells to replace them as soon as possible. Because of this, I advise that you try to eat light foods, soups and broth, and well-cooked veggies. Things you¡¯d feed to a sick person. However, I noticed while I was digging around in there that you have elevated cell activity so you might heal faster and require more food, but I stress that you should not. Strain. Yourself.¡±
Before I could say anything she continued. ¡°But the doc told me what you were doing so I doubt that¡¯s possible,¡± she said as she leaned down and grabbed a brown glass bottle from her bag. It looked like a chemical bottle that¡¯d have iodine or ether. She handed it to me. ¡°This is a healing salve,¡± she said. ¡°It stinks and burns, isn¡¯t as effective as a spell, and interferes with a lot of protective magic¡ª¡°
¡°Stop with the hard sell,¡± I muttered as she pushed it into my hand.
¡°But once it stops burning, its numbing quality is top-notch and will bind most wounds and drastically increase convalescence, at the price of an ugly scar,¡± she continued. ¡°Only use a tablespoon per application and no more than three applications a day unless you feel like talking to your ancestors.¡±
¡°It¡¯ll kill me?¡± I asked, frowning.
¡°You¡¯ll be high as balls and probably end up licking the wall,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s at three applications. If you try four or five, then you¡¯ll die.¡±
¡°Not recreational,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°Got it.¡±
¡°Is it safe for, er,¡± Ida chimed in. ¡°Non-magic-people?¡±
¡°Safer than if he takes it,¡± the nurse replied. ¡°Without the sixth sense, a lot of the hallucinogenic properties have a lesser effect. Though I¡¯d keep to the same dosages to be safe.¡±
¡°Sixth sense?¡± Ida asked, looking at me.
¡°What some practitioners call the ability to feel or sense magical energy,¡± I said. ¡°Some posit that without that sense, actually practicing magic is impossible.¡±
The nurse pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and quickly read it. ¡°The doc wanted me to remind you about the cage and to come in when you can,¡± she said and crumbled up the paper. ¡°But don¡¯t worry about that for now. Good luck finding your brother.¡±
I smiled weakly and shook her hand. ¡°Thank you.¡±
The nurse grabbed her things, the bags with my gross discarded bandages, and disappeared through the front door. A couple of moments later we heard an engine rev.
¡°I like her,¡± Ida said.
¡°Me too,¡± I replied. ¡°Wish I could remember her name.¡±
I stood for a second, preparing myself for what to do next when I caught a whiff of myself. ¡°Ugh,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going to shower real quick. Did Alice say where she was going?¡±
¡°She was not in the best mood after talking to her mom,¡± Ida said. ¡°I¡¯ll give her a call and tell her you¡¯re better.¡±
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I nodded and went in search of a shower. I found it easily enough and began to clean myself, feeling I was forgetting something. It wasn¡¯t until I had shampoo in my hair that it occurred to me.
Why wasn¡¯t I hungry?
I had eaten breakfast with the girls and it was well into the afternoon now. Naturally, I should be getting hungry. Not only that but the last time Alice had healed me, I had been ravenous. Healing uses up a lot of the body''s reserves, even without magic entering the picture. Back on the ship I had gone through more than half a dozen cans of soup in under thirty minutes and was still hungry. I can¡¯t believe that the nurse''s (I really feel bad I can¡¯t remember her name) spell is so different from Alice¡¯s that it wouldn¡¯t produce a similar result.
I reached down and felt the wound. It was tender, like a bad bruise, but otherwise, I felt whole. I rinsed the soap off my face and looked down at it, the concern I have been pushing back rising to the surface as I traced a few of the tendrils with my fingers. After a moment, I frowned down at myself. Was I thinner?
I rushed the rest of my shower and exited, wiping the steam from the sink mirror to look at myself. I have never been anything but skinny, but over the last year, I¡¯ve been working out regularly and had, with great effort, built up some muscle. I knew my body pretty well, from checking on the growth of the black skin on my limbs to being a little vain and checking my workout progress in the mirror.
I was definitely¡ less. Than I had been. It was hard to spot, but my muscles were more defined, my skin tighter. My stomach was flatter, and my ribs more pronounced. You could clearly see my hip bones.
¡°Fucking hell,¡± I muttered. ¡°If it isn¡¯t one thing, it¡¯s another.¡±
I couldn¡¯t be sure, and I didn¡¯t want to take the time right now to make sure, but I think the growth of the onyx skin on my arms and legs was accelerating too. Fuck.
I turned and quickly did the little laundry spell on my pants, shook out the dust that came off them (it didn¡¯t make the dirt and stuff disappear, just made it very easy to get rid of with a few shakes), and put them on before the dust had settled. I went in search of a shirt I could steal.
Unfortunately, the people that owned this house were a lot smaller than I was and the only thing I could find that fit me was an over-sized Hawaiian shirt. I put it on with some misgivings, the loud shirt making me think of the cruise I took last year.
When I entered the living room, Ida frowned at that shirt. ¡°That brings back memories,¡± she said.
I shrugged helplessly. ¡°The only thing that fit. Let¡¯s go find Alice.¡± I slapped my hip and Bogo shot to his feet, tail wagging so hard his butt waved back and forth.
Upon exiting the house I discovered that it was part of a large-ish property with a paddock for horses, though there weren¡¯t any horses present. We were in a small valley nestled between a couple of mountains at the edge of the San Fernando Valley. Craning my neck around, I saw a bunch of helicopters some miles to the southwest, circling what must be the aftermath of our chase.
Ida led the way and we followed a small road that circled the paddock to what looked like a small guest house with a carport, the police car we stole residing therein. As we got closer I saw a weak hex scratched into the hood, and I nodded in agreement. The hex would likely make the car inoperable, but would also prevent anyone from locating the car in case it had a tracker in it. Is LoJack still a thing?
¡°Do cops use LoJack?¡± I asked Ida.
¡°What is LoJack?¡± Ida asked in return
¡°It¡¯s like, tracking for your car,¡± I explained. ¡°I remember it being advertised for stolen cars. I thought cops might use it.¡±
¡°How would I know?¡± She asked with a shrug.
¡°Because you¡¯re a cop,¡± I said and immediately regretted it.
Ida saw my expression but kept talking. ¡°In France. I don¡¯t know what is used in America.¡±
She kept her tone light but I could tell she was making an effort not to make a big deal out of the fact that the people she worked with and¡ªto a certain degree¡ªher fucking country had betrayed her.
Luckily I was saved from further shoving my foot in my mouth as Alice burst out of the door of the guest house and slammed it closed with her shoulder. A moment later there was a muffled boom, shattering the windows and rocking the door in its frame.
There was an awkward silence as we all looked at each other.
¡°I assume the interrogation went well,¡± I said.
Alice let out a sigh and slumped against the door, sliding down until she was sitting. She gave me a tired smile before she lifted her hand and tilted it side to side. ¡°So-so.¡±
¡°That good, eh?¡± I said as I walked over and gave her a hand. ¡°Do we want to clean up or just bounce?¡±
¡°We should probably wipe everything down on the car and in the first house, just to erase fingerprints,¡± Ida said with a glance at the guest house. ¡°Do you¡?¡±
Alice shook her head. ¡°The only thing I touched was the doorknob, and there¡¯s nothing left of our friend,¡± she took my hand and got back to her feet. ¡°I didn¡¯t get much out of him before he¡ªhe just exploded. Like that guy in Big Trouble in Little China.¡±
¡°He swelled up?¡± I asked with surprise.
¡°Not as much as in the movie, but yeah,¡± she said. ¡°Looked like the Michelin man for a second and then I was running.¡±
¡°Jesus,¡± I said, frowning at the door. I turned back to her. ¡°What did you manage to get?¡±
¡°Not much, but I know who he works for,¡± Alice said. ¡°Does ¡°The Distiller¡± mean anything to you?¡±
¡°Fucking Christ,¡± I said, putting my face in my hands.
¡°I take that as a yes,¡± Alice said.
¡°Who is he?¡± Ida asked.
I groaned into my hands before letting them drop to my sides. ¡°It¡¯s¡ kind of the Doorman¡¯s parent?¡±
Update (Edited 10/18/23)
10/18/23 Update:
Life remains hectic.
Some family things are happening, a cold/covid is running through my family and I''m still recovering from my cellulitis I got in august (lingering allergic reaction that just won''t go away). If that were all things would be fine but a good friend of mine passed away and my headspace isn''t all that... stable? I guess is the right word?
But the worst is over (knock on fucking wood), I hope.
The memorial is in a week-ish and once that''s behind me I''ll start updating RR again with what I got on my patreon. Thanks for understand and I hope you all are safe and healthy.
Sorry for disappearing. I had a couple visits to the ER with what we first thought was an allergic reaction, which turned into antibiotic resistant bacterial cellulitis and a much more severe allergic reaction to another medication I was put on. Large swaths of my body became painful scabs, essentially. The idea of surgery was floated, to give you an idea of how severe it was. (thankfully we found a non-surgery treatment that worked.)
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
I''m recovering now, and updates will resume soonish. A lot of things in my life just stopped so I''m slowly getting back into the swing of things.
Thanks for understanding and I''ll see you in a little bit. (Hopefully)
Book 2, Chapter 28
Swearing in two languages followed my declaration. Looking around the property, I held up a hand for silence while letting out a sigh. ¡°Let¡¯s¡ let¡¯s wipe down the place and I¡¯ll tell you what I know when we¡¯re on the move. Speaking of; do we have a car?¡±
Alice took a moment to calm herself before she nodded. ¡°I called Tony,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s bringing my car.¡±
I nodded. ¡°Anything else you manage to get from the guy?¡±
¡°They are looking for specific people,¡± she said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t able to get much. As soon as he realized what was happening he threw up some impressive mental defenses. Once I started to get through them, he¡ª¡° she gestured back toward the guest house.
¡°But what I got was they are picking up various people, and it has to do with their bloodlines,¡± she said. ¡°They call them ¡®the Chosen.¡¯ That¡¯s pretty much all I got before he made me run.¡±
¡°Great,¡± I muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s get this place sorted so we can leave as soon as Tony gets here.¡±
We divvied up the cleaning duties, with Ida starting with the cop car. Alice and I started to clean the house (we decided that the guest house was a lost cause), so I took the opportunity to sate my curiosity.
¡°Whose house is this?¡± I asked.
¡°Some old Hollywood family,¡± she said with a shrug. ¡°I sent them to one of their other properties for a week to give their horses some exercise.¡±
I tried to hide my disapproval but she caught it. ¡°You were dying! We needed a safe place to treat you!¡±
I was already nodding hurriedly as I wiped down the couch and surrounding furniture I had rested on. ¡°I know, I know,¡± I said. ¡°And I¡¯m grateful.¡±
We fell into an uncomfortable silence as we worked. After a minute I broached the topic I had been building up to. ¡°So,¡± I began. ¡°What happened with your mom?¡±
She made a frustrated noise.
¡°I assume she did that divination and didn¡¯t like the result,¡± I continued.
Alice nodded, her shoulders slumping. ¡°Apparently, you stand out to divination like a searchlight.¡±
I swore.
¡°I managed to get out of her that it¡¯s not perfect,¡± she said. ¡°People divining you can¡¯t perfectly predict your next move¡ unless they guess right.¡±
I waited for her to elaborate.
¡°From how I understand it,¡± she began, speaking loudly as she moved to the bathroom. ¡°The Divination she uses shows the various paths your life is most likely to take, with the one with the highest odds of being true being the clearest, easiest to see. Normally, if a path is highly likely, the path will be observable for several days, weeks, and sometimes months down the line, giving you a reliable model of behavior.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
¡°You, however,¡± she said, some irritation bleeding into her voice. ¡°All paths are lit up. For years. It¡¯s impossible to tell what path is more likely or not unless you have an idea of what you are actually doing. And, since we made national news¡¡±
I groaned. ¡°The correct path has become that much easier to guess.¡±
The implication was that if you picked the path that was closest to reality, you¡¯d be able to predict my future with a high degree of accuracy. I¡¯d always be at a disadvantage. The enemy would know I was coming and could just fucking bounce. I¡¯d be chasing shadows.
Or, they could set ambushes. Like the one today. We were lucky in that they were really shitty in tailing us or they could have followed us until we stopped, or even went to sleep for the night. Even with their shitty execution, they almost managed to kill me.
I let out a shuddering breath.
We continued to clean in silence. I finished up my section of the house and tossed my rag in the bag we¡¯d be taking with us.
¡°Your mom wanted you to bail,¡± I said after I considered for a moment.
She didn¡¯t reply, so I knew I hit the nail on the head.
¡°I understand where she¡¯s coming from,¡± I said. ¡°We thought this was simply a missing person situation... but now there¡¯s been several gunfights, I got caught with a mind-whammy, and now demons have entered the mix. Plus you¡¯re hanging out with someone who¡¯s practically broadcasting all his actions with a magical loudspeaker.
¡°I really appreciate you sticking with me through all this, but¡ she might have a point.¡±
¡°What!¡± Alice yelled. She came barreling out of the bathroom, her face set in outrage.
¡°This is way, way more dangerous than you or Ida bargained for,¡± I said. ¡°I¡ If something happened to either of you, during this¡ªI mean, you know me. I¡¯m already fucked in the head. Can you imagine me with the guilt of one of you¡ª¡°
¡°Fucking stop,¡± Alice said. ¡°Just¡ªjust stop.¡±
She looked away and clenched her hands, her shoulders tense with anger. After a good thirty seconds, she turned back to me, her anger slowly deflating as conviction transformed her features. ¡°The simple truth is that you¡¯re my friend, Colm,¡± she said. ¡°We haven¡¯t known each other for long, that¡¯s true, but¡ If I leave you, now, when things are at their worst? What kind of person would that make me?¡±
She walked over and fell into the couch, placing her head in her hands. ¡°I have nightmares about the cruise ship. Did I ever tell you?¡± I shook my head as I sat next to her. ¡°It was a fucked up situation in every sense. But it was also¡this is fucked up to say, but it was also very good for me. It marked a change in my life.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sure you noticed that my house isn¡¯t very¡ lived in,¡± she said slowly. ¡°I¡¯ve only been living there for a few months. I¡¡± She glanced at the time on her phone with a frown. ¡°There¡¯s too much to get into right now, but lets just say that I wasn¡¯t really part of the family until recently. Talking with you after the cruise, thinking about¡ about why I was even there. It made me think about the kind of person I am. That I was.¡±
She turned and gave me a hard look. ¡°I¡¯m not saying that I¡¯m staying around to help you as a sort of self-improvement exercise. You need help, and I¡¯m going to give it. Because fuck the kind of person who¡¯d abandon their friends in their time of need.¡±
¡°Nerd,¡± I said and drew her into a hug. She barked out a surprised laugh.
¡°Let¡¯s finish up,¡± I said as I released her.
We got back to work, the mood significantly less tense. ¡°I guess that means I¡¯ll need to cut myself off from the astral,¡± I said after a while. ¡°At least until I can modify the spell.¡±
¡°Are you sure? That¡¯s¡ dangerous, in more ways than one,¡± she said hesitantly.
I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t see many other options,¡± I said. ¡°We need to not have our movements known and also not be ambushed all the time. We know I can wear it for a couple of weeks before it gets really bad. Hopefully, we find Conner much sooner.¡±
¡°Because everything goes to plan with us,¡± Alice deadpanned.
I sighed. ¡°Right,¡± I rapped my knuckles on an end table. ¡°Knock on wood.¡±
Book 2, Chapter 29
Ten minutes later Alice went to go flag Tony down. We didn¡¯t want to have a record of us giving directions to our current address so Alice had used a messenger spell to give him directions but because of the nature of the spell, couldn¡¯t give the exact address. It was a weird telepathy spell I couldn¡¯t begin to understand, so I took her word for it. The result was that Alice needed to go to the main road so he didn¡¯t miss us.
My curiosity got the better of me and I took a moment to peek into the guest house with Bogo on my tail; it was much worse than I could have imagined. Ida loves this show called Trueblood, and we watched a few episodes together over Discord. I bring this up because when a vampire dies on that show, they turn into a big pile of sinewy blood. The main room of the guest house looked like¡ five vampires had exploded. Did the magic that made the cultist explode give him more fucking blood? I quickly wiped down the doorknob and closed the door. Or, I tried to. Bogo was trying very hard to get in there. I struggled with the not-dog for a moment before I finally closed the door. ¡°Sorry, boy,¡± I apologized to the irritated not-dog. Also, sorry, family who lived here. I hope you know a good cleaning service.
I found Ida by the driveway that snaked up for a quarter mile from the main road, two large bags carrying all the crap we managed to take from my car before abandoning it. Dammit, now I will have to get another car when this is over. Should I splurge and get a new car? I¡¯d have to do a bunch of back-channel shit to make sure I could buy it under an assumed identity. (While I was thinking about car possibilities, Bogo went over to Ida and begged for pets. He got pets.)
Or maybe not? I¡¯m not really hiding anymore. My folks (or, at least my mom) know my new name, and I have actual friends again¡ Keeping up the cloak and dagger shit will be pointless with these new points of contact in my life. ¡°Two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead.¡± The old saying says a lot about the nature of information security. The more people know a thing, the more difficult it is to keep it from spreading.
Also, it¡¯s not like I can hide from the assholes who are looking for me.
I told Ida I¡¯d be right back and went into the house, checking doors until I found one that went to the garage. Luckily the owner seemed to be a fixer-upper kind of person as I found a tool rack and a work bench. The center of the room was dominated by an engine hanging from a ceiling-mounted winch that was partly assembled (disassembled?). The walls were lined with standing metal shelving, the whole place giving the impression of someone who spends time here to relax rather than to work. Perfect. I started to look around.
I needed to finish what I was doing pretty quickly, as I didn¡¯t know if Tony was thinking along the lines of Mama Maria and didn¡¯t want him out there yelling at Alice while I was dicking around in the garage.
The last time I had cast the Incognito spell I¡¯d rushed it out on a piece of vellum that I¡¯d glued to my chest (or was it my neck? No, the neck one was the mental defense ward¡ right? Jesus, I wasn¡¯t thinking clearly then.) with resin. Which, let me tell you: Don¡¯t do that. I don¡¯t know if there are resins that are safe to touch with human skin, but the one I used certainly wasn''t. If I hadn¡¯t beefed up my natural healing I¡¯d still have a nasty scar as evidence of how bad of an idea it is.
¡°Okay, so I need a base for the spell,¡± I muttered as I began to scan the tool rack shelves for something to use. I found a soldering iron and plugged it into the wall outlet while I continued my search. After a bit I found some paint cans and, shoving those aside, found what I was looking for: a paint scraper. I was about to go digging through for more items when I remembered I wasn¡¯t supposed to be leaving prints and swore, quietly but elaborately. I took the rag out of my back pocket and began to wipe everything I touched down.
Now using my magic to move things, I continued to search until I found a roll of masking tape. I snatched it up with my magic and brought it over to the vice mounted to the workbench. I wrenched the blade of the scraper out of the handle and clipped the¡ I guess tang? In the vice. I wrapped the blade in masking tape, not caring so much for neatness so long as the whole piece of metal was covered. I tested the soldering iron to see if it heated up and¡ it hadn¡¯t. I mean, it was getting warm, but it was less than a minute since I plugged it in. I made a frustrated noise and went back outside to see if Tony arrived.
¡°What are you doing?¡± Ida asked when I popped my head out.
¡°In the house?¡± She nodded. ¡°Making a protective spell.¡±
¡°The one that cuts you off from the astral?¡± She asked with a frown, crossing her arms.
¡°Yeah,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°It¡¯s¡ not a great solution. But it¡¯s the only one I have right now.¡±
¡°Can I watch?¡± She asked.
Up until right now, it had never occurred to me that I might be turned on by my girlfriend being interested in my vocation. I did my best to channel that energy into general excitement. ¡°Yeah! I¡¯m just waiting for the soldering iron to heat up.¡±
She blinked. ¡°Soldering iron?¡±
I shrugged and waved for her to follow. ¡°I usually use a diamond engraver of my own design but I left it at home, so I¡¯m MacGyver-ing a new setup.¡±
When we got to the garage I tested the soldering iron and found it ready. ¡°Fair warning: This is really boring magic,¡± I told Ida who was standing to my right. ¡°It¡¯s like watching someone do math in their head and just writing down the answers. I¡¯m channeling energies in a series of patterns that overlap with the symbols I¡¯m drawing, which will bind them to the material.¡±
Ida nodded in understanding. ¡°What¡¯s the tape for?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know if the soldering iron is hot enough to melt this metal,¡± I said. ¡°Or even score it as fast as I need it. So I¡¯m using the tape and the glue on it to stain the metal with carbon so I don¡¯t have to sit here for a half-hour drawing. There are probably technical terms for what I¡¯m doing but I tend to learn enough to be dangerous and jump in.¡±
Ida hummed knowingly, arching an eyebrow at me.
¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I said with a wave. I lifted the soldering iron and bent over the vise. ¡°Okay, starting now.¡±
Having said that, I still took a few moments to arrange the pattern in my head. The scraper blade was an odd shape and I had to rearrange the formula a couple of times before I was satisfied it¡¯d fit on the few inches of metal. Once I had that settled I touched the iron to the scraper and began to draw.
The smell of acrid burning filled the room as I worked, making me breathe through my mouth. After a few seconds, I noticed Ida checking her phone and leaving with a murmur, but I was too engrossed in what I was doing to really pay attention. It was a slower process than I liked. The tape didn¡¯t just burn away instantly like I hoped and I had to work the iron through some of the thicker bits, which slowed down the process. If I was just drawing it wouldn¡¯t be a big deal, but when you were drawing out and imbuing a spell, there was a rhythm you needed to maintain or the magics you were channeling could go haywire. The result could be anything from having to start over to giving yourself a migraine. Drawing out spells is one of my preferred casting methods, however, so I¡¯ve developed a few tricks to handle problems that come up.
Eventually, it was done and I used my magic to remove the tape and glue residue, looking over the finished product for any defects. It wasn¡¯t the prettiest piece of spellwork I¡¯ve done, but it¡¯ll work and that¡¯s the important part. I unclamped it from the vise and lifted it into the air with my magic, letting it cool before I touched it. I wiped down everything I touched, unplugged the soldering iron, and went out to the girls.
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When I got outside I found two cars and four people. The first car was Alice¡¯s, as it was a blue Prius. It was smaller than my Honda, which filled me with dread. My poor knees.
The second car was a red Mustang that looked pretty new. I¡¯m not a car person so I couldn¡¯t say what year it was, but if it was older than three I¡¯d eat my hat. Leaning against the hood was Guapo, who gave me a little nod as I walked out.
His mood was reserved, and the cause of that was the argument happening between Alice and Tony next to the Prius. The argument abruptly paused as Tony spotted me.
¡°You alright, Colm?¡± Tony asked.
¡°No,¡± I said as I squatted by one of the bags Ida had put our stuff in. I found my Mantle and began strapping it on. ¡°My brother¡¯s been kidnapped by a cult that worships the Distiller. But physically I seem¡ªokay.¡±
I had been thinking since I told the girls about the Distiller. If he really had a presence in this reality, even if it was just a small branch of a cult¡ªthis whole thing was bigger than me and my family now. A noise behind me made me turn to see Ida coming out of the main house with a bag filled with bottled water. I sighed.
¡°Look, man,¡± Tony began after an awkward moment. ¡°We¡¯re grateful for what you did for Alice last year, but this whole mess you¡¯re caught up in¡ªyou should probably contact the Concord.¡±
Irritation flashed across my face. Not at Tony, but at myself, because I was thinking along the same lines. Alice, who had been quiet since I exited the house, shifted when she saw my expression. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? She asked.
I snapped on the final plate of the Mantle and stood, rolling my shoulders to see if anything needed to be adjusted. I then grabbed the new spell plate that had been floating next to my head with the help of my magic and waved Ida over.
¡°Can you help me with this?¡± I asked, ignoring Alice¡¯s question for now.
With Ida¡¯s help, she held the plate over my forearm at an angle as I slotted the paint scraper blade into a groove on the underside of the plate. It wasn¡¯t meant to slot paint scrapers, obviously, but I had designed the Mantle to be slightly modular and I had looked for the paint scraper specifically because it was similar to the pieces of metal I had envisioned when I designed the Mantle. I moved the clasps around with my magic until I felt the spell take hold and cut me off from the astral.
¡°The Distiller, as I said, is kind of the parent of the Doorman¡ but that¡¯s a gross oversimplification,¡± I said as I returned my attention to Alice, giving Ida¡¯s shoulder a squeeze as thanks. ¡°The Distiller is to the Doorman what the Atlantic is to a puddle. The Distiller¡ Okay, to understand this, you need some background.¡±
I waved everyone over to a patch of dirt and made a line in the sand about two feet long. I was about to launch into my explanation, but stopped and turned towards Tony and Guapo. ¡°How much about multiverse theory do you know?¡±
Guapo shrugged and Tony was giving me a searching look. ¡°Almost nothing,¡± he said. ¡°Gran set a policy decades ago that she was the only outsider we should be contacting. Family who broke the rule were¡ punished.¡±
I didn¡¯t like the way he said that. Ignoring those implications, I nodded and gestured at the line in the dirt. ¡°This is our reality,¡± I said. ¡°People tend to think of other parallel realities as layers on top of one another. There is some truth to that, but the actual scene is a bit more nuanced. To understand it, you have to go back allllll the way to the Big Bang.
¡°The thing you have to know about the Big Bang is that it is still happening.¡±
This declaration was met with a bunch of frowns.
¡°Not here,¡± I said quickly before anyone could interrupt. ¡°Not here,¡± I said while pointing at the line representing our universe. ¡°The prevailing theory amongst civilian scientists is that the Big Bang happened and then everything cooled and then bam, you have the universe, right? What is actually happening is the Big Bang is just continually going off, and every bang is a new layer of reality.¡±
With my magic, I started drawing a series of lines below the one that represented us, each one slightly shorter than the last. When the lines got a few inches across, I drew a simple cartoon bomb to represent the Big Bang.
¡°Obviously not to scale, as the number of realities are so near infinite as to make an actual distinction pretty much pointless. Each reality¡ªfor the sake of the metaphor¡ª¡°below¡± our reality is slightly younger, while the realities above¡ª¡° I started drawing slightly bigger lines above our line. ¡°Are slightly older. The ones nearest us are so close in age that the difference is negligible, so much so that you have to go really, really far across realities to start finding actual different universes.
¡°Which is why, when summoning interdimensional beings, having a name of a being to summon is the main thing that makes it possible. If such beings could naturally form in universes as relatively young as our own, we wouldn¡¯t need to look far to find them. Trouble is; they don¡¯t. Or, we haven¡¯t found any. Axt¡ª¡° I paused at a hard look from both Tony and Alice. ¡°Er, your gran is from a much older reality. So old and so alien that a brief glimpse she gave me once bestowed enough insight that I was able to formulate a much stabler summoning circle.¡±
¡°What does this have to do with the Distiller dude?¡± Guapo cut in.
¡°I¡¯m getting to it,¡± I said, slightly irritated. I opened my mouth but closed it again. This was probably enough information to understand what the Distiller is. ¡°The Distiller is in a very old reality, and¡ I think it¡¯s the only thing in it?¡±
¡°I assume from your tone, that is bad,¡± Ida said.
¡°Incredibly,¡± I said. ¡°Because it made it that way. Not much is really known about the Distiller because of the way it operates. Even its name is just something we call it because it''s the closest we can get to an identifier.
¡°The Distiller distills. It strips away. It wants everything to be its most base form. From what little I¡¯ve been able to read on the thing, it started with its own reality. We don¡¯t know what happened, but what we do know is that any contact with that reality ends in disaster.¡±
I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. ¡°Another thing we know is that it wants more. It wants to spread its influence to other realities. I¡¯ve only been able to find two or three records of what happens when it manages to directly contact another reality, and they are super fucking spotty. A couple of trends appear though. First, people start going batshit. The first thing the Distiller seems to strip away are things like rationale, or perhaps knowledge. It wants us at our most base, or perhaps it would be better to say as pure instinct, pure reaction. Over the course of a few centuries, society seems to completely disappear and is left with a no man''s land that¡¯d make a Post-Apocalypse movie seem pretty tame.¡±
¡°The other common trend is that complex substances start to break down,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not a chemist so a lot of this shit went over my head, but it seems like anything that wasn¡¯t comprised of just one element just started to fall apart. You know, like animals?¡±
I inhaled deeply through my nose and regarded my little drawing. ¡°If he has cultists here,¡± I said as I turned toward the group. My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to convey just how bad it is. I finally shrugged. ¡°The nuke is in the air. The timer is counting down.¡±
Tony frowned. ¡°It can¡¯t be that bad,¡± he said, clearly incredulous.
¡°I hope it isn¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°Jesus, I hope I am wrong. Then it just means Conner was kidnapped by some assholes and we¡¯re all in the clear. But if these assholes really do have a link to the Distiller, it¡¯s an all-hands-on-deck situation.¡±
¡°How does a thing like that have a kid?¡± Alice asked.
I sucked air in between my teeth. ¡°It¡¯s not really a parent/child situation. The Doorman was more of¡ I guess it was just a lump, er, a cyst that grew a mind and decided to break off from the Distiller,¡± I fidgeted as I tried to think of a better way to explain. ¡°There¡¯s no real analog in nature for them.¡±
¡°So the Doorman is a piece of the Distiller,¡± Alice said slowly. ¡°A being that is pretty much indestructible, able to teleport infinite distances at will so long as it has a door and has a habit of eating anyone it meets¡ is a piece of the Distiller?¡±
I nodded, words seeming to be inadequate. Alice sighed and pulled her phone from her pocket. ¡°I¡¯ll make some calls.¡±
Bogo chose that moment to shove his head under my hand and to look up at me with sad not-dog eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll be leaving in a few minutes buddy, just hold on a little longer,¡± I said, giving him thorough ear-petting.
Tony watched his sister walk away with a pensive look. He glanced at Guapo, who shrugged before his gaze settled on me. I returned his gaze coolly, my hand idling stroking Bogo¡¯s ear. Tony muttered something to Guapo who nodded and gave me a little wave before he turned and went back to the Mustang. Tony put his hands in his pockets and took a step closer to me.
¡°How serious were you about all that shit?¡± He asked, nodding toward the drawing in the dirt.
¡°Like a heart attack,¡± I said. ¡°I know I¡¯m a newbie to all this magic society shit, but if there¡¯s one thing I know; it¡¯s summoning and related fields. The Distiller is bad news.¡±
Tony regarded me silently for a few moments before he seemed to deflate. ¡°Shit,¡± he said. ¡°I believe you.¡±
Guapo got into the Mustang and called out something to Alice in Spanish as he closed the door, getting a wave in return. The engine roared to life and Guapo began to carefully back down the long driveway. I raised my eyebrow at Tony.
¡°I¡¯m coming along,¡± he said. ¡°It sounds serious, and you¡¯ll need the extra muscle.¡±
I smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Happy to have you.¡±
Book 2, Chapter 30
The next four hours were a unique hell for me, made bearable by the fact that I got to drive. Meanwhile; Tony, Alice, and even Ida were on the phones trying to get the powers that be to believe a universe-destroying monster was trying to blow the doors down. Perhaps calling it hell was a bit of hyperbole, but it was very uncomfortable. I am a very solitary man, and being crammed into a sardine can with wheels with three other people and an alien dog-monster is a bit much for my social battery. Or maybe it was just because Bogo kept stepping on my crotch when he repositioned. He refused to be in the back seat and Alice was still quietly terrified of the idea of being near him, so the not-dog was in my lap for the entire trip.
Plus, you know, looming apocalypse.
Hey Colm, I said to myself in an overly chipper voice, undercut with bitterness. Remember when all you had to worry about was the boogeyman?
I sighed and absently scratched Bogo behind his ears, which he leaned into but didn¡¯t take his eyes away from the window. He¡¯d huff if we were starting to go in the wrong direction, but we¡¯d been heading steadily east since hitting the Ten freeway. I leaned over Bogo to glance at the gas gauge and saw we were down to a quarter.
Alice made a frustrated noise and gripped her phone like she was going to throw it, but arrested the motion with a sigh.
¡°No luck?¡± I asked.
She shook her head. ¡°We¡¯ve got the entire clan calling in every favor we can,¡± she said, resting her chin on her palm with her elbow propped on the door. ¡°But it¡¯s hard to convince people interstellar Doomsday is coming with what little evidence we have.¡±
¡°Interdimensional,¡± I corrected absently.
¡°Nerd,¡± Alice said without feeling.
We were all at various levels of exhaustion, with the probable exception of Tony. Using magic takes a price. Typically, your body adapts to the strain in various ways, which is why Alice can bench over three hundred without having a lifter''s physique. She¡¯s been using magic since she could talk, and channeling those forces has strengthened her. Or her strength gives her the ability to channel the magic¡ªthere¡¯s some debate. But the fact remains that the strain is still there, and the fight with the demon truck, the bad sleep, the travel, the worry, and frustration were combining to drag us down.
¡°You¡¯d think with all the dick-waving that Jager guy did, he would take this news more seriously,¡± Alice muttered.
I laughed bitterly¡ª
There was a flash of light and¡ª
And the freeway was gone.
Everything was deathly silent.
I was so shocked it took me a moment to register there was no response from the car. The wheel felt dead in my hands and the pedals depressed with no resistance. I turned to Alice to find her oddly still. I touched her and, to my growing horror, she didn¡¯t react. I shook Bogo in my lap to find him stiff as a board. I glanced behind me to see Ida and Tony similarly frozen.
Before I could react further I heard a tapping on my window.
¡°Please step out of the car,¡± a deep voice requested.
I jerked around and peered through the glass, my fear and anxiety being joined by a healthy helping of incredulity.
Jager stood outside the Prius.
I took a moment to look around and finally realized we were in that same huge room he had teleported me to upon our first meeting. Jager was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, dressed in a polo shirt, slacks, blazer, and combat boots.
¡°I don¡¯t have all day,¡± He said, his voice only slightly muffled coming through the crack in the window.
I had a surreal and slightly embarrassing moment when I tried to lower the window, only to find the car wasn¡¯t powered and was unresponsive. I unlocked the door and opened it with a shove, then began the slow and awkward process of getting out of the car without hurting the frozen Bogo who was still on my lap.
¡°Why is the entire Martinez clan raising hell with the Concord and my office?¡± Jager asked in a mild tone that did nothing to hide just how irritated he was. I was still halfway in the car and moving Bogo onto Alice¡¯s lap. Sorry, Alice.
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¡°What,¡± I grunted. ¡°Are you not reading your messages?¡± I finally extricated myself from Bogo and stood up, my back popping twice as I straightened and stretched. Prius¡¯ were not designed for men of my height.
Jager made a low noise in his throat that was a dead-on impression of a bear¡¯s growl. ¡°You¡¯d do well not to make jokes¡ª¡°
¡°Do you see me fucking laughing?!¡± I nearly shouted. ¡°Yes! There¡¯s a cult of the Distiller here! They have my brother! That lady¡ª¡° I pointed at Alice. ¡°Pulled the info from one of their minds before he blew himself up! They¡¯ve attacked me twice, summon demons and shit, and hit me with a mindwipe spell that made me forget nearly a week of my life!¡±
I took a deep breath. ¡°Am I wrong in assuming you and your office, whatever the fuck that is, are the right people to be calling when you find out a reality-destroying monster from another dimension is imminent? Because if I am, can you direct me to whom I should be trying to contact?¡±
Jager regarded me silently for several moments, anger boiling off him. He opened his mouth, no doubt to dress me down when his eyes shifted to the right and went unfocused. A moment later they focused on me again, but his expression had softened a bit.
¡°How are you shielding your mind? My assistant is trying very hard to verify your story,¡± he tilted his head slightly to the side as he studied me. ¡°But you aren¡¯t reacting.¡±
My first impulse was to lie; I mean, come on. Lying was second nature by now. But he might also be able to snap his fingers and find my brother. Plus¡ªI thought with a glance back at my frozen friends¡ªI don¡¯t want to antagonize him while their fates are in his hands. I mean, more than I already have.
I sighed and pulled the makeshift amulet out from under my shirt and tossed it on the dashboard of the car. ¡°I cut myself off from the astral.¡±
Jager¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That¡¯s very dangerous.¡±
¡°Ha!¡± I barked out a bitter laugh. ¡°Like my life would be safe otherwise?¡±
He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the point. Just when I was about to ask a question I felt someone punch through my mental defenses like they weren¡¯t even there.
¡°Hi! Sorry, won¡¯t be but a minute!¡±
¡°Punch¡± might have been the wrong word. If my mental defenses were a castle (a small, tiny castle with one turret), the person who had just invaded had delicately lifted the north wall and set it aside like it was a piece of Styrofoam packaging.
I¡¯m no slouch when it comes to mental defenses, either. After the scare I had last year I put almost as much time into fortifying my mind as I did learning Circe¡¯s Method. With Alice around with tips and the odd family manual she loaned me (I¡¯m not sure if she was allowed to do that; she never brought it up so I didn¡¯t either) I feel my mental fortress was way above standard. Alice has admitted she can barely get through with all her effort, and it takes her minutes.
Yet this person¡
¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure this is very jarring, but I promise not to look at anything too embarrassing,¡± said the light, slightly high-pitched male voice. ¡°Try not to think of embarrassing things¡ªwhoops too late!¡±
The time I was pantsed in high school by my crush flitted through my mind. I shook my head violently before glaring at Jager to keep my mind on the present. I also did my utmost not to think of anything else, especially not¡ªno, nothing else.
¡°Very good! Good tactic. Boy, they sure did a number on your memories. If we had more time I could help you get them back, but the good news is that they¡¯ll come back on their own once you free up some time and get some R&R. Also, you should really seek professional help. There¡¯s a lot of trauma floating around here.¡±
Yeah, I¡¯ll get right on that mysterious voice in my head. Can you verify my story already? My brother¡¯s life is on the line.
¡°No, yeah, no, you¡¯re a hundred percent right. I already got everything I needed on the info front. Now I¡¯m just going over you and your friends minds to make sure you and they aren¡¯t being manipulated by outside parties. That¡¯s the part that takes the longest time.¡±
...Does that happen often?
¡°Often enough that we always check now. You only need one radical armed with the psychic equivalent of a fuel-air bomb for new policies to be enacted. Know what I mean?¡±
Not really, no. But I see your point.
¡°Also, that dog is so well mannered. Too bad he can¡¯t speak, because he has so much to say! And so polite.¡±
He¡¯s the goodest boy.
¡°Well, yes. And a demon.¡±
I shrugged mentally.
¡°Aaaand¡ That¡¯s it! You¡¯re in the clear. Lemme just forward the results to the boss real quick¡ª¡°
My mind was assaulted by the noise and static of an old dial-up modem.
Really?
¡°You¡¯re no fun.¡±
The entire conversation happened at the speed of thought, so only a few second has passed. I leaned back against the car and waited for Jager¡¯s attention to return to me.
¡°Well, Mr. Albright informs me that you and your associated definitely believe what you are saying,¡± Jager said after a moment had passed. He studied me silently before his features hardened, a decision forming on his face.
¡°Elysium moves,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s hope this isn¡¯t a giant waste of my time.¡±
The way he said it, made it sound like if it was a waste of time, it¡¯d be my ass. Whatever dude. Oh no! You have to do your job! Wait, shit, that dude is probably still in my head.
¡°I won¡¯t tattle.¡±
¡°Great,¡± I said to Jager and the voice in my head. I snatched up my amulet with my magic and hung it from my neck once more. The anxiety I¡¯d been holding in check flooded into and out of me when I felt my connection to the astral cut off. Thank God Albright seemed to be in a rush and hadn¡¯t seemed to notice my silent passenger. Or was it not as powerful as I thought? ¡°So, how do we do this?¡±
Jager raised an eyebrow and snapped his fingers.
And the world went white.
Book 2, Chapter 31
I¡¯m not entirely sure what I expected to happen after Jager snapped his fingers, but finding myself beside the Prius on the side of the freeway a short way from where we were originally wasn¡¯t high on the list. I growled in the back of my throat.
My irritation was interrupted by a very timid squeak coming from the car. I turned and leaned down to peer through the window to see Alice, eyes wide and expression set in a comical display of pure terror, gently pushing Bogo into the driver¡¯s seat and off her lap. Bogo obliged because he¡¯s a good boy.
¡°Well, I got some good news,¡± I began.
¡°We know,¡± Tony said, rubbing his temple. ¡°Albright just gave us the info dump.¡± Ida nodded, eyes squeezed shut in minor pain.
Alice¡¯s phone began ringing.
¡°That¡¯s probably him,¡± Ida muttered.
Alice took a couple of deep breaths to calm down before answering the phone and turning on the speaker.
¡°Hi, guys!¡± The chipper voice of Mr. Albright said a moment later. ¡°So the boss made a big show of being put upon, but he¡¯s mobilizing Elysium as we speak. I scooped up everything related to the case out of your respective heads and fed the data to our investigators¡ª¡°
¡°That is a huge breach of privacy,¡± Ida said with some heat.
¡°Yup! I¡¯ll make sure you get a gift card as an apology,¡± he said in such a way it was hard to tell if he was sarcastic or not. ¡°As I was saying, they are taking your new data and cross-referencing it with their own investigations to see if we can come at this problem from multiple angles. The boss assigned me to you folks since you have a soulhound who seems to think he¡¯s onto something big.¡±
I gave Bogo a glance, to which he gave me a quiet, confident ¡°boof.¡±
¡°If you find something, the Boss¡¯ll teleport a team in or arrive himself, and we take it from there!¡± Albright finished. ¡°Easy-peasy!¡±
Yeah, no. There¡¯s no way in hell I¡¯m letting magi-cops take the lead on this.
I got back into the car, which involved having Bogo come out so I could get in the seat and then having him hop back onto my lap, almost destroying my balls again. I waited for him to settle before putting the car in gear and pulling back onto the highway.
I was trying to act cool on the outside, but I was a ball of anxiety. I inspected the passenger in my mind, surprised to find it unusually active. Usually any little twitch it made felt like my brain moving(which, if you haven¡¯t experienced that particular sensation, thank your lucky stars), so having missed its activity until now was a little alarming. I multi-tasked driving while examining my passenger. After a few miles it became apparent that I hadn¡¯t noticed any of the activity because whatever it was doing, it was doing to itself. It was focused inward. Huh.
¡°Colm?¡±
Now that that worry was somewhat assuaged, I focused on the main ball of my anxiety. In that, I wasn¡¯t sure what category my passenger resided in, but the knowledge it had granted me nine years ago made me think it was Capital B, Big Deal. Just a brief impression of its knowledge about summoning, magic, and the universe gave me enough knowledge to summon new appendages and banish the Doorman. Either I was wrong about its capabilities, or it was able to hide from both Jager and Albright. The former was fine, but the latter was worrying. Well, more worrying. It was already a bit distressing having it in my head, as you can imagine. Plus, the growing patch of ink-black skin on my stomach. Oh yeah, and the weight loss.
¡°Colm? Hello?¡±
There was so much fucked up shit in my life. Magic cancer, kidnapped brother, hiding from the magi-cops (or perhaps magic-feds? What was their hierarchy?) while also having to rely on them. I was feeling overwhelmed. A part of me I hadn¡¯t thought of in a while rose to the surface, floating a name to the front of my mind. A few hours work and I could have more power if I was willing to pay the price.
I crushed the thought with a grimace.
¡°Colm!¡±
I turned my head with a start, realizing Alice and Ida had been calling my name for a good bit. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°I was in my own head. What¡¯d I miss?¡±
Alice studied me with a slightly worried expression before she began speaking. ¡°Albright wants us to call him as soon as Bogo thinks we¡¯re getting close. Will he bark or something?¡±
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¡°Or something,¡± I said. ¡°He gets progressively more excited as soon as he senses the end of the trail.¡± I paused and rubbed his ears. ¡°We¡¯ll need to stop at a McDonald¡¯s for his food.¡±
The next few hours passed in relative silence, broken by Ida giving me an unprompted shoulder massage that felt so good I nearly drifted into a semi. When she was done I grabbed her hand and planted a kiss on her knuckles. ¡°When this is over I am paying you back for that, in spades.¡±
¡°You¡¯d better,¡± she said, her voice full of promise.
Aside from that moment of peace, the rest of the ride was a bit tense as Albright would call every fifteen minutes for an update, his chipper demeanor seeming to increase every time.
Just past the Arizona/New Mexico border, Bogo suddenly shifted in my lap and stood up on all fours, nearly blinding me. I shoved his butt down so I could see the road while the not-dog pressed his nose harder into the crack in the window. I rolled it down all the way for him and he stuck his head outside, his mouth hanging open in a happy dog grin.
¡°How close, Bogo? Twenty miles?¡±
He didn¡¯t reply.
¡°Fifteen?¡±
¡°Ten?¡±
¡°Boof!¡± Bogo said, his real mouth showing a bit in his excitement.
¡°Call Albright,¡± I said. ¡°Tell him we¡¯re closing in.¡±
Bogo gave me prompts, mostly growling when I made a wrong turn. Because he refused to move his head out of the driver¡¯s side window, he couldn¡¯t point very well and his directions involved me doing a lot of U-turns. He was practically buzzing when I pulled into a McDonald¡¯s and got his reward.
We were in a small town that was called Lordsburg and it was the kind of town that existed because of the highway. It had one school, one or two churches, and a bunch of little motels for people doing cross-country drives. Bogo had me head north and out of town a few miles before making me stop on a stretch of driveway that went to what looked like a big, Amazon-style warehouse. He jumped out the window and pointed at the warehouse like a bird-dog.
The place was surrounded by a high chain-link fence and had a security booth. I could see movement within but with my poor distance vision couldn¡¯t tell who or what was inside the booth.
¡°This is it,¡± I said to Albright, who had been on speaker since we left the highway.
¡°You sure?¡± He asked.
¡°Bogo is,¡± I said, glancing at the still-pointing not-dog.
¡°Good enough for me,¡± he said. ¡°Keep your heads down. The first team should arrive in a few minutes.¡±
¡°Roger,¡± I said.
Alice hung up her phone as we all climbed out of the car and stretched our backs and legs. Tony had suffered in silence for the most part and was groaning happily to be out of the cramped back seat.
I turned to Bogo. ¡°You ready to eat?¡± I asked.
Bogo stopped pointing and spun in a circle, his tail wagging. I tossed him the food, bag and all. Bogo jumped in the air and opened his mouth¡ªhis real one, the one that split him down the middle with all the horrific teeth. He snapped his jaws on the bag and chewed with a weird rhythmic motion that carried through his entire body. He barked happily, his real mouth opening and closing with a whoosh of air.
¡°Sorry this took so long, buddy,¡± I said and gave him a pat on the head. ¡°Tell your dad I said you were a very good boy.¡±
Bogo barked happily and ran away. Between one instant and the next, he was gone.
¡°That was so fucking weird,¡± Alice said.
I turned and opened my mouth to reply, but my danger sense went off stronger than it ever had before¡ªin two seconds I¡¯d cease to exist. An explosion. A panicked scanning of the horizon revealed a flash in the distance, coming from the direction of the security booth. ¡°Down!¡± I shouted instead of whatever else I was about to say, raising my magic and shoving all of it at the approaching flash. There was an explosion and something that felt like a hammer hitting my mind.
I vaguely understood I was flying through the air. The knowledge did me no good as my flight came to an abrupt end as I landed on my right shoulder and head, nearly breaking my neck. My knees slammed into the ground next and I think I broke a toe. Adrenaline kept me from blacking out. I rolled onto my left side and angled my head back to see what the fuck was going on.
Alice was on the ground several yards to my left. She was bleeding from a gash on her head and her arms had several lacerations¡ªI couldn¡¯t tell if she was conscious. Tony was to my right, further away than Alice, sitting up and holding his hands to a bleeding abdomen. I couldn¡¯t see Ida anywhere.
The Prius was on its side. Whatever had exploded had been enough to shatter all the windows and knock it back so it tipped over the wheels on the left side. My eyes had trouble focusing, but I could see movement past the Prius¡ toward the Security booth. I got the distinct impression of someone lifting a heavy weapon to their shoulder.
I tried to gather my magic but my head was spinning. I assumed they were aiming another thing that had nearly killed us. I watched as the blurry figure settled its stance, all the while trying to think of something I could do.
Suddenly another figure exited the security booth and stopped the first figure. I hope he was saying something along the lines of ¡°You¡¯re fired, Dave. You just blew up a random car next to the highway. I don¡¯t care that the driver was incredibly hot and you wish you were him.¡±
I think I hit my head pretty hard. Thinking was difficult. Trying to gather my magic simply wasn¡¯t happening so I let it fall away. I felt my grip on consciousness becoming looser. Man, I didn¡¯t want to pass out again. That¡¯s got to be bad for my brain.
In the distance, past the security booth, I saw movement. The steady grind of tires coming from the same direction told me it was a vehicle. Fuck. If I were a betting man, I¡¯d say that was a cleanup crew.
I turned to look at Alice. Her bleeding was slowing and the lacerations I could see on her were also improving. She must be using a healing spell. Even with that, she was in no shape to defend herself. I turned and found Tony in a similar situation, eyes closed and focused on his midsection.
I looked around as much as I could, every movement sending waves of agony through my neck and head.
Where was Ida?
Book 2, Chapter 32
A few moments passed as I watched the blob in the distance get closer and reveal itself to be a black van. During that time my struggle with consciousness ended and instead, I became heavily nauseous, which I dimly recalled was a possible side effect of head trauma. Jesus, I¡¯m going to get dementia in my forties, aren¡¯t I. Like a retired linebacker.
I rolled onto my back in an attempt to relieve the nausea, only to discover that made it worse. I struggled to my side again as my stomach heaved and just barely avoided throwing up on my own face, shooting a line of vomit not unlike a certain possession film from the 70s. You know, I can¡¯t recall if I¡¯ve thrown up since I got quasi-super strong. But I guess if you have super strong core muscles, you kinda make a spectacle of vomit. It shot from my mouth in a tight line for a couple of seconds before suddenly ending. I¡¯d only had a breakfast sandwich and a couple of candy bars to eat today, so I guess that makes sense.
The part of my mind that was trying to fight through the concussion I was likely suffering from made me wrench my eyes back to the approaching van. It stopped a couple dozen feet away and six very large men came out. They each wore dark navy coveralls with no branding anywhere, each had the same, close-cropped haircut. Now that I noticed that, I also noticed that they never really strayed far from one another as they approached. One was about to split and make his way over to Tony when he seemed to think better of it and remain with the group.
Alice was between me and them. They were heading to her and I had a sharp realization that she might not be able to defend herself while she was patching up whatever that explosion had done to her.
¡°No,¡± I gasped.
I tried to summon my magic and get to my feet at the same time, only managing to get my foot under me before my equilibrium failed and I toppled to my side. My nausea roared back with the sudden movement and my stomach cramped up again, but this time instead of a line of vomit I just coughed up some burning bile.
Uncaring about my struggle, the men surrounded Alice and crouched down around her. The one by her head lifted a finger that elongated with a series of pops until it became a barbed protrusion of bone. He lowered it to her face.
In desperation, I tried to summon my tentacles, unused for a year. If I stretched them to their limit they just might be able to reach the men. Like a skill I haven¡¯t used in a long time, or perhaps a limb freshly released from a cast, they were slow to respond. Nothing happened for a moment and I feared I would be too late, watching with growing horror as the sharpened bone descended to Alice¡¯s eye¡ª
Gunshots rang out.
The steady semi-automatic fire of a gun I was very familiar with.
The first shot hit bone-finger in the shoulder, the second in his hip. It was enough to make him lose his balance and fall on his side, the finger just missing Alice. The gun, somewhere behind me, kept firing, this time changing targets with each shot. The man next to bone finger took a shot in the middle of his back. The same for the one next to him. They finally started to react to the gunfire, turning to the noise.
The next man caught a bullet in the side of his neck as he turned in my direction, his face showing no reaction. Two more shots rang out, in two additional men before they stopped.
As gingerly as I could while still moving with some urgency, I did my best to look behind me. A flood of relief hit me when I saw Ida in a wobbly crouch, having apparently been tossed into a drainage ditch by the side of the road. The left shoulder of the tank top she wore had been snapped, leaving a livid bruise across her neck. Her arms, particularly her shoulders and elbows, were scraped bloody. She looked like she had had a rough landing.
Her eyes were steady, however. She calmly ejected the magazine from the 1911 I¡¯d loaned her and reached into her pocket for a spare, slamming it home and pressing the slide lock with her thumb to load the first round, all in less time than it¡¯d take me to describe.
Oh, right. I also have a gun.
Ida resumed her steady firing as I began to paw at my waistline. I glanced at the six men, and if they were bothered by being repeatedly shot, you couldn¡¯t tell from their expressions. They were now moving toward Ida (and me) at a steady, slightly hurried pace. It was kind of like that jog some people do when they are crossing a stop sign intersection, they kind of half-jog, half-speed walk to cross so you don¡¯t have to wait for them.
Despite my frantic motions, I couldn¡¯t get my hand around the grip of the Webley through my shirt. Rolling around on the ground and being concussed had adjusted the position of the holster on my waistband and it was awkwardly placed now. I couldn¡¯t even look at what I was doing because my neck refused to move certain ways without shooting blinding pain up and down my spine.
There was a frustrated growl from my waist and I suddenly felt the Webley press into my hand. ¡°Thanks, bud,¡± I said with relief and lifted the gun in a shaking hand at the six men, who were less than ten feet away.
Trying to aim required focus I just didn¡¯t have right now, so I settled for making sure I wouldn¡¯t hit Alice by angling the gun up from where I was prone on the ground (and laying in my own vomit, I noticed) and squeezed the trigger. A wrist-sized beam of destruction shot between two of the men in front and hit one of the men in the back of the group right above the groin, exploding the poor dude''s pelvis in a splatter of horrendous gore I¡¯ll never be able to get out of my head. The destruction was so complete the guy fell between his legs, which toppled to the ground beside him.
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Now, being shot by .45 ACP barely made these guys react. Getting shot by the Webley made them all stop, look at their newly pelvis-less associate and consider him for a heartbeat. As one, they picked up the pieces of their friend/comrade/co-puppet and sprinted with startling speed to the van.
¡°Ida!¡± I shouted over the gunfire of her third magazine. ¡°Help me aim!¡±
The shooting paused and a moment later Ida was by my side. ¡°Are you alright?¡±
¡°Concussed, I¡¯m pretty sure,¡± I said with a slur. ¡°Help me aim¡ªdon¡¯t touch the gun. Use my wrist.¡±
Ida grabbed my wrist and started pointing it at the van with the five-point-seven men making their escape. ¡°No!¡± I said, pulling my wrist to the side. ¡°To the guard station. Help me hit it.¡±
¡°What? Why?¡± She asked, even as she crouched down beside me and aimed down my arm at the guard station.
¡°I¡¯m pretty sure they shot an RPG at us,¡± I said. ¡°And I think they have more. I won¡¯t be able to stop another one.¡±
Ida swore in French and kept helping me aim. She made a frustrated noise after a moment and lowered herself next to me, going prone and gingerly moving my hand so she could aim down the sights of the Webley.
¡°There,¡± she said.
¡°Hold it steady,¡± I said and focused on the gun.
Without me moving my finger, the cylinder rotated in the gun and the hammer came down, but it didn¡¯t shoot. Ida grunted as the gun and my hand became heavier. ¡°What¡ª¡°
¡°Keep it steady,¡± I said. ¡°I have to make sure they can¡¯t fire off another one of those.¡±
Again the cylinder rotated, the hammer coming down with a click. My hand wobbled and Ida adjusted her aim again. The tendons in my hand started to burn.
The van¡¯s engine revved, the tires kicking up rocks as the van pulled a quick U-turn and headed back towards the warehouse.
¡°Colm,¡± Ida said, worry thick in her voice. ¡°What is happening?¡±
¡°I¡¯m kinda supercharging the gun,¡± I said. ¡°This next time it will go off, so really brace. Brace as hard as you can.¡±
She shot me a worried look as she adjusted herself against me. It was still tough to focus, so my main effort was to tense and not fight her when she adjusted my hand.
The cylinder turned one last time, the hammer came down.
A black beam as thick as my chest, tinged with hateful red, emerged impossibly from the end of the Webley and slammed into the guard station the next instant. Again, my distance vision isn¡¯t that great but what I could see was a vague box shape suddenly turn into a black, light-absorbing cloud.
That then exploded.
It wasn¡¯t a huge explosion, as things go. At least, from what I can tell. But it was sufficient to destroy anything in the building, along with the motherfucker that had hurt my friends.
The recoil from the blast wrenched my hand back, and if Ida hadn¡¯t been there to help me brace I think I would have broken it. As it was, even with my reinforced ink skin, I¡¯d probably have a terrible bruise for the rest of the week.
¡°Thank you,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, see if you can help the others.¡±
She nodded and got to her feet with a wince, pausing briefly to squeeze my hand.
I took the next couple of minutes to crawl away from my vomit and to rise to a sitting position. Feeling a little punch-drunk, I wet my finger with my tongue and drew the laundry spell on my soiled shirt and was ecstatic (or at least as excited as one can be after nearly dying and suffering from a concussion) when the worst of the dirt and fluids disappeared. Fucking rad.
My thoughts were interrupted by a shift in the air, followed by a low whistle.
¡°Whoa,¡± said an overly chipper voice. ¡°What the hell did I miss?¡±
Ida and I turned to see five men and two women dressed¡ in only what I could call fantasy-SWAT gear. Like, if you squinted, you¡¯d think they were special forces personnel. But then you¡¯d notice that instead of Kevlar vests, they had black enamel breastplates. Each of them wore a sword. Two of the men had kite shields on their backs.
They also each carried either an assault rifle or a submachine gun. Several had obviously magical talismans and trinkets hanging from various parts of their uniform. One guy in the back, I just noticed, wore a medieval-style knight helmet and was probably a foot taller than me.
The man in front, wearing wire-frame glasses, had hair so blonde as to almost be white. It was very fine and seemed to float around him like he was underwater. He stepped over to me with his hands up. ¡°Mr. Avery? I¡¯m Henry Albright.¡±
It was only then that I noticed I was aiming the Webley at them. I sighed and lowered the gun. A moment later, Ida lowered her 1911. Jesus, I might be worse off than I thought if I failed to notice both of us drawing on the newcomers.
Albright turned to his team. ¡°McKay, Calhoun, check on the wounded.¡±
¡°What happened?¡± Albright asked as a man and woman from his squad broke off.
I was wondering why he didn¡¯t just pull the info from my head, but then I remembered I was still wearing my amulet. ¡°Got hit by an RPG, I think,¡± I said slowly. ¡°I noticed it soon enough to detonate it some yards away.¡±
The couple minutes of rest, followed by the conversation were doing wonders for me. The upgrades I did to my body to allow for faster healing were showing their hand¡ªmy dizziness and nausea getting less with each passing moment.
¡°You got any water?¡± I asked, conscious of how hoarse my voice sounded. ¡°I think I had some in the car, but¡¡± I glanced at the tipped Prius.
Albright handed me a canteen. I took a couple of small sips before resuming my story. ¡°Then they sent some weird, hive-mindy goons after us. Ida and I scared them off and we blew up the guard station so they couldn¡¯t hit us with another RPG.¡±
Albright glanced at the small building smoking in the distance. I saw him look at Ida, then at me.
¡°That¡¯s an impressive handgun,¡± he said after a moment.
¡°It has its moments,¡± I said, before draining half of the canteen and handing it back. ¡°Let¡¯s go get my brother.¡±
I stood and started to head toward the warehouse and my friends when Albright put a hand on my chest to stop me. He was surprisingly strong, being a head shorter than me. ¡°You¡¯re injured; you¡¯ll be a hindrance in your condition.¡±
I glanced down at his hand on my chest, then met his eyes. I don¡¯t know what he saw, but he quickly dropped his hand. I took a deep breath.
¡°I¡¯m going to check on my friends,¡± I said. ¡°Once I¡¯m sure they will be fine, I am going to go look for my brother,¡± I took a step closer to Albright, looming over him. ¡°If anyone tries to stop me, I will kill them. How¡¯s that for a hindrance?¡±
Without waiting for a reply, I stepped past him to check on Alice.
Book 2, Chapter 33
I walked a few feet away and was met by Ida, whom I crushed to my chest in a hug. She made a surprised noise which turned into a happy murmur as her arms wrapped around me. A sudden wave of discordant emotions rolled through me, along with a slight loss of balance that I hid by using Ida to help me stand so I didn¡¯t ruin my bad-ass image with Albright. After a moment the dizziness passed and all that I had were the emotions that had yet to leave. I pressed my lips to the top of her head before leaning back to look at her.
¡°There was a minute there where I couldn¡¯t find you,¡± I whispered. ¡°I¡ª¡°
I cupped her cheek in my palm and shuddered with suppressed fear. ¡°I¡ª¡°
She took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. ¡°I know,¡± she said softly. ¡°Let¡¯s check on the others.¡±
I nodded shakily and put my arm around her shoulders, mostly because I wanted to reassure myself of her presence and only a little because I was afraid I¡¯d fall over otherwise. We walked over to where Alice was still lying on the ground. A woman from Albright¡¯s squad was leaning over her, hand held out in a pose I¡¯ve seen elves use in anime when doing healing magic.
¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± the woman said as we approached, preempting my question. ¡°She¡¯s using Scheerhed¡¯s Return to undo the damage.¡±
¡°What?¡± I asked. If she had another healing spell, why did we have to call in a favor from Doctor who is also a Witch? A glance at Ida revealed her equally confused expression.
¡°It¡¯s a healing spell that is easy to learn but can only target yourself, or someone you trust to the extreme,¡± she explained, lowering her hand and reaching into a messenger bag at her side and pulled out a fist-sized device. She frowned thoughtfully before grabbing a piece that stuck out and pulled, unfolding the small parcel over and over until she had a stretcher. ¡°Help me move her?¡± She asked.
I slowly removed my arm from Ida¡¯s shoulders, unsure if I¡¯d be able to help without losing my balance. Ida read my hesitation in my movements and placed a reassuring hand on my arm. She made sure I was able to stand without falling over before stepping over to help the nice special forces lady.
¡°Why does it only target someone you trust?¡± I asked as they gingerly began to transfer Alice to the stretcher, a part of me was amazed that both Ida and I weren¡¯t reacting more to the magical stretcher.
¡°I misspoke,¡± she said as she adjusted Alice into a better position. ¡°The spell isn¡¯t technically a healing spell, but that¡¯s what it is mainly used for. You take a snapshot of your body when it¡¯s healthy, and the spell ¡®Returns¡¯ the body to that state. You can probably guess how that can be abused if used on other people.¡±
Holy shit, yeah. It¡¯d be easy to make simple adjustments to the ¡°snapshot¡± and have a subtle health problem take out your patient when you weren¡¯t around, to shift the blame.
A flash of irritation went through me when I remembered where I had heard the name of the spell before. Alice had been bugging me to learn it before I had latched onto Circe¡¯s method. Whoops. Sure would come in handy right now.
¡°Why isn¡¯t she conscious?¡± I asked as they heaved her onto the stretcher.
Ida grunted upon lifting our unresponsive friend. The new lady, I noted, did not. She continued talking as if she were carrying a lunch box and not a much-heavier-than-she-looks lady. ¡°She is¡ªkind of. The spell requires a ton of focus. One of the reasons it¡¯s easier to learn and cast is because its method relies mostly on the efforts of the caster and not the spell itself. It does some heavy lifting, but you have to direct it. Judging from the shrapnel in her side, she probably thought she was close to death.¡±
¡°What?!¡± I said, lurching forward to look at my friend.
What I hadn¡¯t seen before was a piece of metal about the size of a card sticking out of Alice¡¯s side under her left arm, close to her heart. Jesus Christ. She had been on her back right after the explosion. I¡ªI hadn¡¯t seen that. I clasped my hands over and over in a futile desire to help.
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¡°As I said; she¡¯s fine,¡± The lady said, her voice punching its way into my brain. ¡°In a couple of minutes, she¡¯ll be stable enough to yank that metal out and an hour or two after that she¡¯ll be right as rain.¡±
She began to walk to where the rest of the group had loosely gathered around Tony, Ida following. I followed after a few moments of hesitation, my gait slow and steady to avoid face-planting.
After a few steps, I slowed to a stop and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and focused on my body. There¡¯s a¡ a thing. That I¡¯ve been avoiding. Or suppressing. I¡¯ve been keeping it under a lid for an entire year, only slipping up a couple of times. The most recent was when I got super pissed seeing my dad again, and some of that¡ stuff/thing, slipped out in my voice.
Part of the reason I threw my entire being into learning Circe¡¯s Method was that, shortly after the whole magical pirate debacle, I did some experiments... With my weird not-eyes and tentacles. Those two things are only the tip of the knowledge I had been granted for trading away pieces of the Doorman, which I only realized after using the transformation for an extended period of time.
It was like¡ It was like¡ªwithout knowing what one was¡ªbeing given the Green Lantern ring and making a truck with it. Okay. The ring makes green trucks. It was only after using it for a while that you realized that, hey, maybe whatever made this ring had designed it with more purpose than just making green fucking trucks?
The knowledge that I had been given to perform a banishment of the Doorman, as well as the tools to draw it in the necessary time (the tentacles) might not be two separate gifts, as I¡¯ve long believed. My memories of that night are¡ªnot exactly precise. I was terrified, grief-stricken, and desperate. While also being distracted by a thing that was also terrifying me.
What I discovered was that the more I used those abilities, the more the passenger in my head¡ influence is the wrong word. It couldn¡¯t influence me more. But¡ªbut it felt like it could reach more of me. Which feels just as bad, if not worse. Thus, I sought to dive into magic to shore up the hole in my abilities. I didn''t want to have to keep falling back on this, this eldritch, otherworldly knowledge of which I have no idea of its origin (though I have suspicions).
The knowledge, and what it might do to me, frankly terrifies me.
Almost as much as the thought of losing my little brother.
I glanced at the others, who were talking amongst themselves and making Tony and Alice comfortable. They had gathered Tony and Alice some distance from the overturned Prius, away from the highway but closer to the fence than I¡¯d like. I sighed with a discordant mixture of resignation and determination as I put my metaphorical hands on the lock to my otherworldly abilities. Abilities that are pretty fucking sketchy. But they were abilities that if I did not receive and use, I would have died. Twice.
I turned the key in the lock and let them out.
If you were watching me, you might not have noticed the difference. I didn¡¯t sprout tentacles and my eyes didn¡¯t become swirling windows to the void. I had learned enough to keep those hidden unless needed. What you would see is a subtle shift in my posture. My shoulders relaxed, I stood straighter, my eyes focused. Knowledge I wasn¡¯t allowing myself to know was suddenly available, and I made subtle changes to my body to hurry its recuperation.
The most telling change was my face. My expression, which had been haggard and tired, turned into an angry frown.
Because now I could see the vile shroud that hung over the warehouse. It looked like the psychic equivalent of rotting lungs. Like if the sound of nails on chalkboard made you sick instead of irritated. Like if you went to stand up from a chair and your legs suddenly shattered under your own weight. It was the suffering of failure, of things falling away, of the heartbreak of a loved one disappearing without a trace. Whatever was going on in that warehouse was creating a psychic scar in the area similar to a nuclear meltdown. Just looking at it made my stomach turn, which made me glad I had nothing left to throw up except a small bit of water.
I walked over to Albright, glancing at Tony to make sure he was fine. He gave me a small, blood-covered thumbs up. I gave him a reassuring nod before turning my gaze on the psychic.
¡°You see it, too,¡± Albright said, for once sounding like he wasn¡¯t celebrating his birthday.
I pressed my lips into a thin line. ¡°Mhm.¡±
¡°What changed?¡± He asked.
I almost lied out of habit. But, this man was about to dive into that vileness in an attempt to save the world and my brother. A large part of me still wanted to lie, but the part that made me want to like myself tomorrow won out.
¡°Decided to stop holding back,¡± I said. ¡°Despite what it might mean for my sanity.¡±
Doesn¡¯t mean I have to tell him everything.
Albright raised an eyebrow. ¡°Cryptic.¡±
I shrugged. ¡°You can interrogate me once my brother is safe.¡±
Albright stared at me for a long minute. All other conversation stopped once the others noticed our little stare-down. We stared at each other in silence, the only noise being the slight breeze and the sound of traffic from the highway.
Finally, Albright shrugged.
¡°Fair enough. Let¡¯s go save your brother.¡±
Book 2, Chapter 34
I kind of expected them to whip out their weapons and assume a Navy SEAL type formation. What I got instead was the magical soldiers doing an equipment checklist to make sure they had everything they needed for every possible scenario, the most alarming I overheard was ¡°apocalyptic potentiality.¡± Which, you know¡ glad they had something for that.
One of the guys was staying near our injured friends, who introduced himself as Roger Calhoun. ¡°Why do you get to skip the equipment check?¡± I asked as I walked up.
¡°¡¯Cause I¡¯m babysittin¡¯,¡± he said, jerking his head behind him toward the Martinez¡¯s. He had dark brown skin from too much sun, his face leathery and cracked like a dry lake bed. His voice had a low undercurrent of southern drawl. ¡°Scheerhed¡¯s Return isn¡¯t 100% reliable, so it¡¯s wise to have someone on standby in case something goes wrong.¡±
I hesitated. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just¡?¡±
¡°Heal them myself?¡± He finished with a smile, showing he wasn¡¯t offended. He tilted his head towards the warehouse. ¡°Boss says you folks found a real nasty place, so they might need my help if, you know, things go up Shit Creek. Don¡¯t wanna have anythin¡¯ less than a full tank should the worst happen. Your friends should be fine, but we aren¡¯t going to leave that up to chance. Hence: Babysitter.¡±
I nodded in understanding. A part of me wanted to shout at the man to get my friend back on her feet, but the truth of it was I was mostly glad. I¡ hadn¡¯t wanted to put my friends in danger in the first place. It spoke to their character that they shot down my objections and came anyway.
And nearly died.
I gave my head a slight shake to clear the thought away. ¡°Thanks for the help,¡± I said to Roger.
I was thankful for these few minutes of prep because I had to have an awkward conversation with Ida. She was currently helping Tony with his gut wound. He also knew the weird-name Return spell but his wound wasn¡¯t immediately life-threatening so he didn¡¯t have to devote his entire attention to it. I waited for her to finish helping him adjust his position before getting her attention. ¡°Can I talk to you? Privately?¡± I asked softly.
Ida frowned and looked at Tony, who shooed her away with a blood-covered hand. ¡°I¡¯m good for the next little bit. As soon as I know Alice is out of the woods I¡¯m going to go under myself and fix this hole in my belly.¡±
¡°Shout if you need anything,¡± I said. He gave me a pain-filled grimace that was supposed to be a smile and relaxed by degrees, his vision slowly losing focus as he went about patching himself up.
Ida and I walked about a hundred feet away. As the distance between us and the rest of the group widened, I struggled with how to phrase my request. Ida once again preempted me.
¡°I¡¯m going,¡± she said, suddenly stopping and glaring at me. Her feet were planted, a slight bend in her knees. Her hands were held just above where they would rest normally. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say she was about to fight me. I mean, she was, but not physically.
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I sighed. I¡¯ve been thinking about this since Albright showed up. At the risk of undermining our newly minted relationship, I decided to fight dirty.
¡°How much ammo do you have left?¡± I asked.
She hesitated. Opened her mouth to reply.
¡°Do you have body armor?¡± I interrupted.
She glared.
¡°Magic?¡±
¡°That is not fair,¡± she said, almost pleading.
¡°I know,¡± I replied in a similar tone. ¡°And I am simultaneously touched and flattered that you are willing to do this for me. But¡¡± I turned and looked at the Prius, still on its side. I made a real show of turning my head toward the smoking pile of rubble that used to be a guard station. Ida made a frustrated noise.
¡°These guys aren¡¯t playing by the rules,¡± I said, turning my gaze back to her. I wanted to pull her into a hug, but if I were her I¡¯d be pissed and wouldn¡¯t react well to physical affection. ¡°A strange car parked in front of their warehouse and they shot it with a fucking bazooka or whatever. There aren¡¯t any wards that I can detect, so that might just be their fucking security policy. ¡®Any vehicles parking outside the property get blown the fuck up.¡¯¡±
¡°You¡¯re one of the most capable people I know, but you are under-equipped for the current situation, as much as it pains me to say,¡± I said.
¡°Doesn¡¯t mean you don¡¯t need me,¡± she said, with a stubborn undercurrent I had never seen in her.
I sighed and pulled out the big guns. ¡°There¡¯s also¡ Calhoun¡ªhe seems alright, but I¡¯m nervous leaving our friends alone and vulnerable with a stranger.¡±
Ida eyes widened with outrage before narrowing. ¡°That is low.¡±
I nodded sadly. ¡°I know.¡±
Ida spun around on her heel, muttering in French. I really should make an effort to bone up on it. It¡¯d be great to see her expression when I suddenly broke out in horribly accented but conversational French.
I shoved aside that thought. Those were plans for if we both survived the next day.
My next thought was interrupted as Ida spun around again and slammed into me with a very aggressive hug. It knocked my breath away a bit and I staggered back a step before I caught myself, wrapping my arms around her.
¡°You come back,¡± she said into my chest, her already adorable French accent sounding even more so when muffled by my shirt. ¡°You come back, you get your brother, we STOP HAVING INSANE THINGS HAPPEN¡ª¡°
She lifted her face up and glared at me. ¡°And when we finally have two peaceful moments to squeeze together, you either teach me magic or make me magic armor or¡ªor something. Tattoo spells onto my skin, give me monster parts, WHATEVER!¡± She was nearly shouting. ¡°I¡ªI am tired of being normal, surrounded by the things I am powerless against.¡±
She slammed her face into my chest again¡ªalmost a headbutt. I held her as she let out a shuddering half-sob, half-gasp. I reminded myself that my bad-ass girlfriend was human, and probably experience some fucked up things while she had been undercover with magical pirates for a couple of years. Telling her she couldn¡¯t deal with THIS situation was probably bringing up some insecurities¡ Jesus, I could relate.
¡°We¡¯ll start with magic guns, like my Webley,¡± I said. ¡°Remember when we talked about your grandfather''s shotgun? I wasn¡¯t blowing smoke up your ass. Did you manage to bring it to the States?¡±
She shook her head, the motion tickling my chest and she dragged her back and forth.
¡°Okay, that¡¯s fine, just something to solve,¡± I said. I glanced over at the others and found them conspicuously looking everywhere but at us. I held Ida for a few moments, gently rocking us back and forth.
¡°Alright,¡± Ida said with a sniff. ¡°Okay. Fine. Oui. I understand.¡± She leaned back, reached up, grabbed my face, and gave me something that I was sure was a kiss but felt more like fireworks.
An indeterminate time later she released me. I couldn¡¯t help the slightly stupid expression on my face. ¡°I will do the prudent thing,¡± she said, pulling my head down to rest my forehead against hers. ¡°But you owe me a magic gun, at the very least.¡±
¡°Deal,¡± I said with a smile.
Book 2, Chapter 35
I reluctantly left Ida and approached the magical SWAT team (I should think of a funnier name for them. Earth Defense Force? The Z Warriors¡ªno. I¡¯d probably end up being Yamcha. Uh¡ Dr. Strange and the Funky Bunch? Oo, if one of them can multiply I can paint him blue and call them the Watchmen. Thank God no one can listen in to this bullshit with the amulet on.), tightening some of the straps on the Mantle for a better fit. Albright was staring into the middle distance, which made me assume he was doing something psychicky.
The big guy wearing the knight helmet regarded me as I approached. ¡°The boss says you¡¯re coming along. What do you bring to the table?¡± He had a voice like a warm blanket that was also somehow a revving diesel engine. Comforting, deep and powerful.
¡°I¡¯m strong and somewhat durable,¡± I said, pointing at the Prius. ¡°I could probably rip one of the doors off that without much effort, but being hit by the car itself would pose a problem. I¡¯ve mastered a general telekinesis spell with Circe¡¯s Method, am rather good at wards and stationary magic, or whatever you call magic that you engrave or write on a surface¡ª¡°
¡°Thaumagraphy,¡± supplied the other large dude. He was wearing a backward baseball cap (black, like his armor) and possessed a chin that could fit snugly into some parts of the Grand Canyon.
¡°Yeah, that,¡± I said, filing that word away. ¡°I have some combat experience, I know my way around a gun, and¡ª¡°
¡°One spell?¡± Another of the group cut in. He was of a height with Albright, but much slimmer. Unlike the rest of the crew, his chest piece wasn¡¯t a breastplate like the others, but was segmented and more form-fitting.
¡°I know others, but can¡¯t cast them safely¡ª¡° I began, before being interrupted by the same guy.
¡°Why the fuck are we bringing a civvie?¡± He said to the group, turning away from me in a clear dismissal.
Should I be irritated? I feel like I should be. I glanced at Ida, who rolled her eyes before mouthing ¡°be calm.¡±
¡°Boss said to,¡± said Big Chin.
¡°I¡¯m not babysitting no civvie,¡± Asshole said, to no one in particular.
¡°I¡¯d be surprised if you did,¡± said the lady who had helped Alice. ¡°Being our forward scout and all. And what with how we never see you until the end of a fight.¡±
¡°I take out the back line!¡± Asshole said with some heat.
They continued to bicker while the big guy with the helmet regarded me silently. No one seemed interested in finding out what else I had to say so I put my hands in my pockets and tried not to look in the direction of the warehouse. I¡¯d have to, eventually¡ªhell, I¡¯ll have to go in there whenever Albright comes back from his daydream.
The only people who hadn¡¯t spoken yet were the medic standing with my injured friends and the small lady with the bulky backpack. With nothing better to do, I studied her with my peripheral vision (didn¡¯t want to be caught staring). The backpack looked like it was one piece of equipment that someone tried to make look like a backpack at the last minute. As I focused on it, I became aware of a dozen or more wards placed on it and realized that if I tried to look any closer it¡¯d react by blasting me. I don¡¯t know what method it would use but what I do know was that it had some rudimentary intelligence because I recognized a warning when a metaphorical gun was placed in my face. I found something else to look at.
¡°Hey!¡±
I realized I had been spoken to a few seconds too late. I turned to regard Asshole. ¡°Mm?¡±
¡°What do you have to say?¡±
¡°You¡¯ll have to repeat the question,¡± I said. ¡°I began to ignore you when you started acting like an asshole from a cop show.¡±
Asshole¡¯s expression became ugly. He took a threatening step toward me, and I felt a subtle magic surround him.
¡°Walt,¡± Big Chin said, a note of warning in his voice.
I would like to say that I wasn¡¯t feeling threatened, but that¡¯d be a lie. I¡¯m no stranger to violence, and like recognizes like. Walt was a killer. I doubt he was a good one if all it took was calling him an asshole to set him off, but that doesn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t dangerous. I wasn¡¯t familiar with the magic surrounding him, but it felt a bit like a spell I experimented with a few years ago that made one faster. I ended the experiment with it because I nearly broke my neck while under its effects.
I didn¡¯t let my apprehension show on my face. I kept my body language relaxed. The only reaction I gave was a slight raising of an eyebrow.
¡°I said,¡± Asshole Walt said through gritted teeth. ¡°Why the fuck should we even consider endangering ourselves with some untrained asshole, who only knows one fucking spell?¡±
I opened my mouth to reply.
¡°Because he learned it in under a year,¡± Albright said, coming out of his psychic daydream.
Several heads turned toward me, eyes wide.
¡°Because he has survived two encounters with the Doorman, the most recent involving a fistfight,¡± he continued, his normally chipper voice flat and without inflection.
Technically I only threw the Doorman and hit him with one or two spells, but I¡¯m not going to correct him.
¡°This was after he fought through several gunmen, killed Stephen Ordon and fought Jerry Sayers to a standstill, then went on to kill Terrance Love in single combat.¡±
Albright walked up to Walt, whose tough guy act had melted away. He now looked like a teenager being dressed down by a disappointed father.
¡°Even if all that weren¡¯t the case,¡± Albright said. ¡°He¡¯s coming because I fucking said so.¡±
I caught the big knight guy looking at me. When our eyes met, he gave me a wink. At least, I think he did. His eyes were hard to see through that thing.
Albright turned around and went back to the very same spot he had been occupying... and went to dreamland again. Huh.
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¡°Wait,¡± said the small woman with the scary backpack. ¡°He¡¯s the pirate guy?¡±
¡°I mean, I¡¯m a pirate killer,¡± I said. ¡°Saying ¡®pirate guy¡¯ implies that I¡¯m a guy dressed as a pirate, or that I¡¯m enthused about pirates. Which I¡¯m not.¡±
Big Chin shot me a beaming grin. ¡°Thanks, man,¡± he said. ¡°We were hunting them for years with no luck.¡±
It was weird receiving gratitude for that debacle. I didn¡¯t get thanked much¡ if at all? Honestly, my memories of that trip are a bit patchy towards the end. I was sporting a bunch of tentacles at the time and I probably wasn¡¯t all that approachable.
Scary Backpack took a couple of steps closer to me. ¡°Could Ordon really summon infinite knives?¡±
¡°I¡¯ll assume we¡¯re talking about the same person¡ªso yes?¡± I said with some hesitation. ¡°I never really exchanged names with anyone but Love. I just called them Knife Guy and Mr. Forgettable,¡± Knight Guy barked a laugh. ¡°And Knife Guy didn¡¯t really ¡®summon¡¯ knives. He just¡ always had knives. If he needed to throw a knife, a knife would just be in his hand. In our first fight, he threw a couple dozen of them at me.¡±
I¡ didn¡¯t like talking about this. I could see Scary Backpack gearing up to quiz me. I turned away from her and addressed the big dude. ¡°Can you give me a round of introductions? I¡¯m tired of thinking of you as Knight Guy.¡±
Knight Guy barked out another laugh. ¡°Yes! Of course,¡± he pointed at the lady who had helped Alice. ¡°That¡¯s Beats, combat medic. Your new best friend who¡¯s trying to fade into the background is Walt, our forward scout.¡±
¡°Hey!¡± Walt said and was promptly ignored.
Knight Guy jerked a thumb over at Big Chin. ¡°This¡¯s Greg, front liner, a job he shares with me. We¡¯re big and strong and can take a hit.¡±
He gestured at Scary Backpack. ¡°That¡¯s Kristy, our comms officer, which is just a glorified title for the person who has to carry the radio.¡±
Kristy nodded happily.
¡°Finally,¡± he concluded. ¡°I¡¯m Roy, second in command.¡±
¡°Colm,¡± I said. ¡°But you probably knew that already.¡±
Kristy shook her head. ¡°Nah. We may have heard your name, but then we all just called you the ¡®pirate guy¡¯ around HQ when talking about the incident.¡±
¡°Again, I have problems with that appellation.¡±
¡°You always talk like a thesaurus?¡± Beats asked.
¡°Usually only when I¡¯m nervously waiting to raid a warehouse where a cult who worships the embodiment of loss and entropy potentially has my brother, the only relative I have to whom I love without reservation.¡±
That kind of killed the mood.
¡°It¡¯ll be soon,¡± Roy said slowly, like someone gearing up for an unpleasant task. Which¡ªokay, yeah, fair. ¡°The Boss is coordinating the arrival of a second team to cover the area to catch anyone fleeing. Takes a while to set up an anti-spacial field. Apparently, you found something big.¡±
I glanced at the warehouse, feeling my eyes twitch in their sockets.
¡°Yeah.¡±
***
Five minutes later Albright was still staring into space, and I was about ready to go in without them. Someone must have noticed, because Big Chin¡ªer, Greg, came over and stood next to me.
¡°Did you really learn Circe¡¯s Method in a year?¡± He asked.
¡°A little under, but yeah,¡± I clarified.
He gave a low whistle.
¡°Is that impressive?¡± I asked. ¡°My friend says it was amazing, but she also calls the Desperate Housewives amazing so I can¡¯t really trust her.¡±
Greg laughed good-naturedly. ¡°Hell yeah, it¡¯s impressive. Most people who use that method start in childhood, and don¡¯t master their first spell until High School or later.¡±
¡°Really?¡± I asked, surprised. ¡°But the book I got says the average person shouldn¡¯t take longer than fourteen months.¡±
Greg¡¯s mouth opened in a silent ¡°aaah,¡± before nodding knowingly. ¡°Was the book you learned from called Complete Guide to Mastery: Circe¡¯s Method?¡±
I had a feeling I was about to learn something interesting. ¡°Yes, actually.¡±
Another nod from Greg. ¡°Do you remember who wrote it?¡±
I frowned.
¡°Trick question;¡± Greg said quickly, before I could think too hard. ¡°You won¡¯t find his name anywhere on a modern printing of the book. The author was a man from the 13th century named Henry Gallup Monstrussen, a man whose magical genius was only surpassed by his love of his sister and favorite goat.¡±
I felt my face change into an expression of vague horror. ¡°You mean..?¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Greg said with distaste. ¡°The guy was nuttier than a fruitcake. But he knew his magic. The point is; like many geniuses, he didn¡¯t see how others couldn¡¯t perceive the world like he could. So him saying that learning Circe¡¯s Method was possible for the average person in fourteen months is like Bach just gesturing at a piano and going ¡®you just play¡¯ when asked how to play piano.¡±
I frowned in thought. This isn¡¯t the first time someone suggested my magical prowess was higher than it should be for someone who was largely self-taught. To be fair, it was mostly Alice who was doing it... but now I have an outside source.
¡°Do you know anyone else who has learned it that quickly?¡± I asked.
¡°Oh yeah!¡± Greg said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. ¡°Roy¡¯s been using Circe¡¯s Method since his teens, and he knows more spells with Circe¡¯s than I do with my Bulwark. Same with the Boss.¡±
I glanced over and Albright. ¡°Oh?¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Greg said happily. ¡°You kind of have to if you want to be a psychic. There¡¯s too much that can go wrong for a spell with no rigidity and that can¡¯t be changed on the fly.¡±
My respect for Albright multiplied. I had assumed he was a natural psychic like Alice and her family, just more powerful. But if his magic is strong enough to bridge minds across miles, it speaks of a strength that is kind of frightening.
Aaaand I just threatened him a while ago.
Great.
I wonder if I should¡ª
¡°I got something!¡± Kristy yelled.
Finally.
I turned to find Albright coming out of his daydream while Kristy stood with her eyes closed. Greg left my side to stand next to her while Roy took up a position opposite him, guarding her with a wall of flesh.
¡°What have you got?¡± Albright asked, shaking his head slightly to clear it.
¡°Ritual magic,¡± she said slowly. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know how I didn¡¯t see it before. The place must be caked with defensive wards.¡± She opened her eyes. ¡°We need to get in there.¡±
Albright nodded and turned to me. ¡°How many more shots does your gun have?¡±
¡°It can¡¯t do that again,¡± I said, gesturing towards the blown-up guard station. ¡°At least, not without blowing up my hands as well, but I got thirteen shots left.¡±
Albright nodded. ¡°Save them for emergencies. Stay in the back and keep clear of the lines of fire. Do what Kristy says. If you can¡¯t agree to these conditions, I can¡¯t take you with me.¡±
¡°Yeah, whatever,¡± I said. ¡°But as soon as we find my brother, I¡¯m grabbing him and bolting.¡±
Albright nodded. ¡°Acceptable.¡±
Kristy came up to me and handed me a couple of earpieces. ¡°These will allow you to hear us but will filter out any sound magic. You¡¯ll need them in case Beats gets in trouble.¡±
I glanced at Beats, who waggled her eyebrows at me.
¡°...Kay,¡± I said as I took the earpieces. They fit snugly, like foam earplugs that wrapped around the back of my ears. When I released them, they adjusted to be even more snug to the point of being uncomfortable. I was about to grab them and give them an adjustment when something shifted and I suddenly couldn¡¯t feel them anymore. I reached up, and I could feel them with my fingers, but otherwise couldn¡¯t detect them.
¡°These are cool,¡± I said. The normal enthusiasm I have for new magic was subdued by the likelihood of imminent combat.
¡°Right?¡± Kristy said with a smile.
I took a moment to study her. She had long, stringy black hair that refused to stay out of her face. Her uniform was the same, breastplate-over-tactical as the rest of the group, but the magical gear she had was distinctly¡ Hot Topic Goth.
She had what I swear was a wallet chain going from her hip to the scary backpack, two spiked bracelets, spiked anklets, and a spiked choker. Each piece gave off a magical aura that I¡¯d call¡ spooky? In a really, kinda hyper, way? It was the most confusing magical sensation I¡¯ve felt in a long time.
¡°Gendry¡¯s team won¡¯t arrive for another twenty minutes,¡± Albright said, which made the group wince. ¡°I was hoping for more time, but we aren¡¯t getting that. The good news is that the teleport-lock is in place, so anyone fleeing will do so via vehicle, portal, or on foot. Calhoun!¡±
¡°I¡¯ll light up any vehicles fleeing,¡± the guy babysitting my friends called back.
Albright nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±
We turned and started marching down the road to the warehouse. I couldn¡¯t help but notice that the horrible psychic cloud overhanging it seemed to be looking at us. I glared up at it, not caring how uncomfortable it made my eyes feel.
I''m fucking coming.
Book 2, Chapter 36
We started jogging towards the warehouse when I stopped and shouted:
¡°Oh, I¡¯m such a FUCKING IDIOT!¡±
Ignoring the confused looks and one glare of the magi-SWAT crew, I spun on my heel (nearly tripping in the process as I hadn¡¯t completely recovered yet) and dashed back to the overturned Prius.
¡°Sorry, Alice!¡± I half shouted as I ran around it and slammed my shoulder into the roof along with a push from my magic, knocking the vehicle back onto its tires and further damaging the roof.
I gripped the door handle and yanked, but being knocked on its side had damaged the door to the point that it didn¡¯t budge. I debated yanking the door off for half a second before realizing the window was broken. I bent over and stuck my torso into the door, doing a quick scan before spotting the box with the blood stick. I grabbed it and pulled it and myself out of the car.
I had to stop myself from just breaking the box open in my haste. I took a second to breathe deeply before calmly (or as calmly as I could manage) undoing the latches on the case and popping it open.
The stick looked no worse for wear, sending a shuddering breath of relief out of me. My hand reached out to grab it, my black nails reflecting the light of the afternoon sun, but stopped just before grabbing it.
If the stick didn¡¯t find my brother here, I was out of options. I didn¡¯t have any leads except to go into the warehouse and hope there was something there that would lead me to him. I almost didn¡¯t want to grab the stick because of what would happen to my mental state if it didn¡¯t detect anything.
After hesitating for what felt like an hour but was more likely to be less than a minute, I closed my fingers around the stick¡
And felt nothing.
I felt the strength go out of my arms, my shoulders slumping. The simultaneous urges to hyperventilate and to stop breathing entirely fought for supremacy, resulting in a hitching breath that was akin to a sob. I forced myself to growl through the despair and disappointment and slowly stood¡ª
...The last time I used this thing, I wasn¡¯t wearing my amulet.
Grasping at alternatives like a drowning man, I reached under my shirt and grabbed the amulet, tearing it off my neck with a sharp tug (which hurts a lot, by the way. Movies make it look so simple).
The magic of the stick was suddenly detectable. I had forgotten that it had its own, slight aura. It must be closely related to the astral, for my amulet to cut it off so completely.
But I still didn¡¯t feel Conner.
I swore sulfurously and shot to my feet, my arm arcing behind me to throw the stick into traffic¡ªwhich is when I felt a pip of something.
I barely managed to pull my arm back, but not before I had let go of the stick. It tumbled through the air in front of me and I panicked and tried to catch it with both my hands and my magic. Between the three of them, I managed to gently push it into my chest without breaking it. I quickly got my hand on it and ran towards the warehouse, holding the stick in front of me like a baton.
I felt something, and that something became more and more clear as I got closer to the warehouse. I ran past the confused stares of the magi-SWAT without sparing them a glance, focusing on the sensation the stick was giving me until, after several dozen yards, the vague sensation snapped into focus.
My brother.
A hand clamped on my shoulder and brought me up short. I glanced behind me to see Roy holding me back with just one hand. ¡°Whoa! Where¡¯s the fire?¡± He asked.
The other members of Elysium special forces arrived a moment later, and I gestured at the warehouse with the stick. ¡°My brother is in there!¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Greg said. ¡°We figured¡ª¡°
I shook my head vehemently. ¡°No, no, no! He¡¯s in there! This stick is a Navajo artifact that shows blood relations! I know exactly where my brother is!¡±
I turned and looked at the warehouse. ¡°He¡¯s¡ªHe¡¯s underground.¡±
Albright frowned. ¡°Why are you just now using it?¡±
¡°Because I got shot with a fucking rocket!¡± I almost shouted. ¡°Also it doesn¡¯t have the biggest range, so we were waiting until we were near our destination where, I will remind you, we were shot with a fucking rocket.¡±
Albright nodded and glanced thoughtfully at the warehouse. ¡°Overall, this doesn¡¯t change much. I know you¡¯re anxious to get your brother¡ªwhich we will facilitate¡ªbut you need to stay with us and allow us to work without running ahead and getting shot to shit.¡±
I nodded, nervous energy making the movement erratic. ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Sure.¡±
I moved the stick into my left hand and drew the Webley with my right. I walked over next to Kristy, who gave me a reassuring smile. ¡°We¡¯ll get him back,¡± she said with the happy assurance of someone quietly competent or who didn¡¯t know better. I prayed it was the former.
* * *
Now the initial excitement of finding my brother alive (because he was alive; the stick let me know that much with a high degree of certainty) had worn off, we approached the warehouse at a light jog. It was¡ odd.
First, there was the fact that our version of a ¡°light jog¡± was closer to an Olympic-level sprint. Each person here was either physically enhanced in some way like I was or was using some form of magic to hurry them along. Greg and Roy took long, loping strides that ate up the ground, their legs moving with deceptive slowness. Another strike against Walt was that he kind of did the Naruto run, with one arm hanging behind him and another on the hilt of the blade that hung reverse on his back, with the hilt sticking out behind his hip. The effect should have been fuckin¡¯ dorky as all hell, but he somehow pulled it off with his black uniform and armor. Each of Beats footsteps thudded against the ground with more force than should come from her slight frame, sending her higher into the air than would be normal. The effect made it look like she was skipping, but she managed to keep up with the group just fine. Albright just jogged, which looked incongruous with the speed we were maintaining. Finally, Kristy didn¡¯t jog so much as shoot forward with every step, like she was running on a Travelator alongside us.
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And then there was me, huffing and puffing to keep up.
If I hadn¡¯t recently been shot at by a rocket and had my whole body roughed up, plus being injured yesterday (or was it the day before? Head wounds are a pain in the ass.), plus being healing, which uses up a lot of the bodies resources¡ªI might have given a better showing. As it was, I was happy that they didn¡¯t seem to be slowing down for me.
Walt, a voice in my head said, making me flinch.
SHIT. I left my amulet behind in my excitement. While I was in the middle of self-recrimination, Walt nodded and piled on the speed, shooting forward before vanishing from sight like a mirage.
I¡¯m glad you left the amulet behind, Albright said in my head. It would have been a pain to repeat everything out loud.
That makes sense. They had a powerful telepath on their team; of course, they communicated telepathically. No need to make noise that wasn¡¯t necessary.
Yes, Albright agreed as he fell back in formation and held out something for me. It was another amulet, this one much more professional looking than the one I had made from a paint scraper. It looked like what I¡¯d think a high-fantasy wizard''s dog tags would look like. Since you don¡¯t have your preferred mental defense talisman, have a loaner. It should blunt any mental attacks while still allowing me to communicate with you mentally.
Thanks, I sent back, making an effort to partition my thoughts so he wouldn¡¯t pick up on every little thing that passed through my head. Thank God Alice had been tutoring me in mental defense. I holstered the Webley so I could take the amulet and awkwardly put it over my head with one hand.
I felt the magic cover me the moment the necklace settled against my skin and was quietly impressed. It wasn¡¯t a steel wall of mental defense like I probably would design, it instead was more like a wave breaker that you see off certain shorelines or bays. Instead of trying to stop mental energy from reaching me entirely, it seemed to break it up as it approached, making my natural mental defenses that much more effective. It was elegant and efficient, and it took far more of my willpower than I¡¯d like to admit not to stop and tinker with it, or badger Albright about its composition.
But I couldn¡¯t stop myself from saying the next bit. ¡°You are so not getting this back,¡± I said with admiration.
Albright laughed quietly. It¡¯s fine, he said, his mental voice now¡ fuzzier? It was kinda fuzzy, like the audio quality of AM compared to FM radio. We¡¯ll call it an operational expense.
While we were chatting, we passed the remains of the guard station. Greg peeled from formation and poked the ruins, having unslung his massive, belt-fed machine gun from his back during the run. He poked a few smoking bits before running to catch up with us, moving as fast as a car on a surface street.
Clear, I heard him say in my head, with slightly more fuzziness than Albright¡¯s voice. I assumed Albright was acting in a way similar to a wifi-booster, psychically.
Boss, it took me a moment to recognize Walt¡¯s mental voice. No activity outside the building. All doors are locked and warded with alarms, but no overt defensive magic that I can detect. Moving to the roof now.
My threat assessment of Walt rose by several degrees. If he had managed to cover the entirety of what looked like a huge warehouse in the time it took us to cover half the distance to the warehouse, the dude was insanely fast. I¡¯d have to rely heavily on my danger-sense in any confrontation with him. I made a mental note to be less antagonistic to the guy, knowing I would probably fail.
Uh, I began awkwardly. So, I know you are all big bad magical special forces types, but what do we do about guns? I can only block bullets if I know they are coming.
I got it, Kristy said happily.
You got it? I asked.
She¡¯s got it, Roy answered. Bullets aren¡¯t a problem for Kristy, and thus aren¡¯t a problem for us.
That doesn¡¯t really answer my question, I said with growing irritation.
Kristy shot me a grin as her voice sounded in my head. It was slightly off-putting. You¡¯ll see! Unless they don¡¯t shoot at us, then I guess you¡¯ll just be out of luck.
I don¡¯t consider not being shot at an unlucky event, I said, deadpan.
Beats snorted ahead of me.
Kristy nodded. Fair point.
No roof access, Walt reported. I see no duct work or air-conditioning up here. It seems construction stopped as soon as the building had a stable roof and four walls.
Come back, Albright ordered. We¡¯ll breach one of the side doors and get an idea of the layout. I¡¯m picking up many minds inside, but can¡¯t get anything specific through all the psychic noise in the air.
At that announcement, everyone drew a rifle. Kristy¡¯s was a small bull-pup I wasn¡¯t familiar with, but fit her build nicely. Beats¡¯ rifle was an M4A1, tricked out with so many attachments it looked like she was trying to set a record for the bulkiest gun. Roy drew a similar gun to Greg¡¯s, another belt-fed machine gun, but it had a box magazine and he wielded it one-handed. Now that I was looking, I noticed Greg¡¯s gun also had that same box magazine, but unlike Roy¡¯s, it radiated magic. In Roy¡¯s other hand materialized a black heater shield with a closed, silver eye on it. Albright produced an M1 Garand that I was sure wasn¡¯t in his possession a moment ago.
I drew my Webley, feeling slightly inferior until I reminded myself that my gun could damage a tank. Probably. I¡¯ve never actually had access to a tank to test it out. But I was reasonably confident.
I was also wearing jeans and a Hawaiian T-shirt with a weird magical mantle on my arms and shoulders while all of them looked like badass future-SWAT commandos. It was hard not to feel out of place.
I put aside my pride (or lack thereof) and tried the match the sudden all-business demeanor of the group. We stacked up against the door, two on one side and five on the other, with Kristy pulling me to the back to keep me out of the way, presumably. I was happy to allow the professionals do the breaching. Wait, when the fuck had Walt returned?
Beats placed a hand on the wall and squinted. Lots of breathing, she sent. But labored and slow. Many are ill. Phlegm in the lungs. Don¡¯t hear anyone healthy nearby. Should I ping?
Do it, Albright said.
Suddenly there was a sharp, high-pitched crack that seemed to explode from Beats. I flinched from the extremely loud sound, despite the dampening from the earpieces I¡¯d been given. Kristy frowned up at me. Do you have enhanced hearing?
Yes, I replied with a wince. I resisted the urge to rub my ears, not wanting to dislodge the invisible earpieces.
Why didn¡¯t you say so? Walt asked, leaving the ¡°you idiot¡± unsaid.
You know, I was listing my abilities when someone interrupted me, I replied with an overly chipper voice. Walt sneered at me.
Quiet, Albright commanded. Beats?
It¡¯s a mess in there, boss, she replied. There¡¯s metal everywhere, and bodies, but that¡¯s as much as I can tell. No one is close to the door, though.
Alright. Roy, Greg, breach when ready, Albright said as he did a quick check of his rifle.
You go first, Greg said, jerking his head toward the door.
I went last time, Roy said easily. You¡¯re up.
Is he full of shit, Kristy? Greg asked.
Sadly not, big guy. He was definitely first last time.
Damn, Greg said as he pushed off the wall. He set his stance in front of the door, pushed forward with his back leg while lifting the front and kicking the door...not next to the handle, like you¡¯re supposed to, and not in the center like you see in bad TV¡ªbut on the side with the hinges.
And I¡¯ll be damned, he kicked the metal security door clean off its hinges without even grunting, stepping into the room beyond in the same motion. Roy followed a second later, who was then followed by Walt.
Oh, Jesus, Greg said just before we heard two machine guns open up.
Book 2, Chapter 37
I lurched forward without thinking but was brought up short by Kristy¡¯s vice-like grip on my arm. My head snapped to her and, while she was no longer smiling, she didn¡¯t look too concerned either.
One of the machine guns went quiet, replaced by the sounds of large impacts and heavy footsteps.
There was a shoggoth in the room, Albright supplied. Roy is handling it while Greg keeps it distracted. What are you seeing, Walt?
It fucking stinks in here, Boss. Walt said, his voice subdued. Most of the floor is stacked with shipping containers that, if they are all like the first three I¡¯ve checked, are filled with people. Most of them didn¡¯t respond to seeing me, and those that did reacted with near-violent fear. I haven¡¯t checked many of them, but the few I got a good look at have been branded.
As if summoned by the comment, the air coming from the open doorway reached us outside and it did indeed smell awful. A bouquet of sweat, piss, vomit, and shit wafted by us. I resisted the urge to dry heave.
What did it look like? The brand? I asked instead of gagging.
I didn¡¯t recognize it, Walt replied.
Before I could say anything, an image formed in my mind. It wasn¡¯t the clearest image, likely due to the interference of my shiny new amulet, but it was clear enough that I could make it out.
Fuck! Fucking cock-sucking motherfucking piece of shit¡ª
I assume you recognize it? Albright interrupted.
God fucking damnit, I do, I said with a sigh. It¡¯s a sacrificial mark, a tailored one. I don¡¯t recognize the design in the center as the Distiller, by his very nature, doesn¡¯t do a huge amount of dissemination¡ But knowing what we know¡ª
You assume it belongs to the Distiller, Albright finished. He turned and shot me a measured look. It seemed to say ¡°You and I are going to have a talk.¡±
I kept my expression flat and tried to convey a ¡°you don¡¯t scare me/I have nothing to hide¡± expression while also being scared and having many, many things to hide. The jury¡¯s out if it had any effect.
As the conversation died down, so did the gunfire, but the sounds of violence continued. It was an odd experience to not hear the customary shouts and commands that I associated with fights. I nudged Kristy to get her attention.
Are they normally this quiet? I asked.
Oh no, Kristy said easily. The boss is filtering out their natter. Less strain on him than if he projected all of our thoughts to all of us all the time. Roy and Greg are just CONSTANTLY swearing when they fight. It¡¯s funny at first but can get annoying when we¡¯re trying to listen to Walt report in.
As if prompted, Walt spoke up at that point. I don¡¯t see anything else in the warehouse, boss. Just more containers filled with people. Not even another shoggoth.
¡°Shoggoth?¡± I mouthed to Kristy.
¡°Later,¡± she mouthed back.
Of course, I know what a shoggoth is. One doesn¡¯t become a warlock without picking up a little bit of Lovecraft. But as far as I know, they didn¡¯t exist. There are several beings I know of that are big tentacled monsters that one could mistake for a shoggoth, though. Hell, I could summon and bind a few. But I was curious what these people would call a shoggoth, or if it was just a general term they use for a big monster.
Look for underground access, I said to Walt. My brother is somewhere under the warehouse, and we haven¡¯t seen sign of the six guys Ida and I shot up.
I don¡¯t take orders¡ª
Enough, Walt, Albright said with some steel. It¡¯s the next thing you¡¯d check anyway.
If Walt replied, Albright didn¡¯t share it with us.
The sounds of impact suddenly ramped up in intensity before ending with a crash.
Holy hell, Roy said, his mental voice sounding winded. Did that thing take some killing.
I hate fighting those things, Greg said slowly. They don¡¯t make any noise.
Do you boys need a touch-up? Beats asked.
I¡¯m fine, Roy said with an audible groan I could hear through the wall.
I just need a minute, Greg said.
Should be safe for you to come in, Boss, Roy added.
Albright nodded and ducked through the door, rifle raised and ready. After a moment, Beats followed. I went to follow but was brought up short by Kristy again. I swallowed my frustration and settled in to wait.
Clear, Albright said after a minute.
Kristy nodded at me and then ducked in the door, and I followed on her heels. The smell hit me like a haymaker. I dry heaved violently before pulling my stolen shirt over my face with the hand that held the blood stick. The shirt still smelled vaguely like vomit, but that was worlds better than the inside of this fucking warehouse.
My eyes were watering, I still wanted to vomit, and my vertigo from my probably concussed head was getting worse¡ªbut all that took a back seat when my eyes landed on what must be the shoggoth.
You know, when you watch a sci-fi program about virtual reality or AI, there¡¯s a common effect they use for visual ¡°glitches,¡± where the image kinda jumps around rapidly or breaks apart randomly. The entire shoggoth was like that. It was hard to look at. Now, I don¡¯t remember exactly how Mr. Lovecraft described shoggoths, but I do remember he tended to use ¡°indescribable¡± as an adjective. While that is not technically true for the monster in front of me, I can see why the team used the shoggoth moniker. Eyes were all over the thing, appearing, disappearing, detaching, and floating around only to blink out of existence. Even while it was clearly dead, arms appeared, grew, disappeared, reappeared, shrank, floated, split off, multiplied, shuddered¡ it was actually hurting my eyes to look at. The arms mostly belonged to something humanoid, but they were always wrong in some way. Too many fingers. Too long. Too thick. Three hands. Two forearms.
I averted my gaze and focused on my shoes, breathing through my shirt heavily.
Pay up, Walt, Kristy said.
He still might pop, Walt replied emphatically.
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I looked up and met Kristy¡¯s eyes. Placing bets on whether I lost it?
She nodded with a big smile, unabashedly unashamed. I rolled my eyes as my opinion of Walt took another nosedive. He may be dangerous, but he isn¡¯t too bright. He was just told I had fought the Doorman and a cadre of warlocks; it stands to reason I could stomach some weirdness.
Though, to be fair, if I hadn¡¯t already lost my lunch out near the highway, I would have probably done it here.
While we were talking, Beats had been tending to Greg, who looked¡ ¡°Beat up¡± doesn¡¯t quite fit. He looked like he was beaten near to death, but he was standing and having a silent conversation with Beats like nothing was wrong. As I watched, his dislocated shoulder suddenly wrenched back into place with an audible ¡°pop.¡± His shattered ocular cavity shifted, the bruised skin changing colors like an oil slick until, after half a minute, his eye was back to normal. Greg took a wet wipe from Beats and ran it over his face, cleaning the blood off. There was nothing left to show he had been grievously injured.
He has strengthened bones and increased regeneration, Roy said from my right. I had to stop myself from spinning and putting a bullet in him¡ªI had not heard him approach. So don¡¯t go out of your way to save him if you see him take a bullet or a particularly nasty blow. So long as the majority of his spine remains intact, he can recover from pretty much anything.
I gave Roy a once over. Aside from a few scuffs on his shield, he seemed to have weathered the fight with the shoggoth without trouble.
Roy noticed, and I saw him wink in his helmet. I¡¯ve got my own tricks.
Right, I muttered. How does that work, anyway? We¡¯re talking with our minds. Does Albright pick up on the intention and make the thought have less impact on the fly?
Walt appeared in a blur next to Albright, and they had a little pow-wow that I wasn¡¯t involved in. I decided to do something productive and created a little telekinetic construct that¡¯d keep my shirt around my face so I didn¡¯t have to hold it there with my hand. Unless I got really distracted, it would stay there without me having to pay too much attention to it.
Beats finished with Greg and made her way over to me. She produced a face mask like you see doctors wear. One of the good ones that actually sealed around your nose and mouth.
Thank you, I said emphatically as I dropped my shirt from my face and put on the mask, pinching the metal piece so it sealed over my nose. Walt and Albright finished their discussion, and by some silent accord, the entire team gathered around Beats and I.
Walt found the entrance downstairs, Albright said without preamble. The bad news is that it¡¯s a domain.
There was a round of cursing. I raised my hand like I was in school. And for the uninitiated, that means¡?
Albright took a deep breath, seemed to regret it, and let it out through his nose. A domain is a magically imbued territory that bends the rules of space and physics. Some domains have lower or higher gravity, for instance. Most are bigger on the inside. In our line of work, a domain usually means there has been summoning going on.
I glanced at the corpse of the shoggoth. And that was their doorman.
Albright nodded. You seem to grasp the picture.
I frowned in thought as I looked over the immediate area. Thankfully, I couldn¡¯t see any victims from where I was standing. What do we do about them? I asked, gesturing at the nearest container.
We don¡¯t have the resources to help them all, Albright admitted with some reluctance. Elysium is a specialized force. SOP is to clear out the area of aggressors and hostile magic and call the mundane authorities once the area is safe.
I didn¡¯t like it, but I understood. People in our community (the semi-secret magical world) were probably an extreme minority. It¡¯s not like there¡¯s a huge personnel pool to recruit social and rescue workers from.
I¡¯d once asked Alice why magic and real magicians aren¡¯t more prevalent. She had said that the official line from the powers that be was that the world wasn¡¯t ready to openly embrace magic and the unknown, often citing the Salem Witch Trials and the Spanish Inquisition. More pragmatically, it was because of situations like the one I ran into. Some kid or group of kids gets their hands on some spell, start experimenting, and usually end up dead.
Which I get. Magic in the hands of the uneducated is like placing a machine gun in the hands of a child who didn¡¯t know what a gun was. He might live through the experience, like I did.
Most don¡¯t.
Roy broke the silence. So expect heavy resistance, he said solemnly. We¡¯ll do an initial reconnoiter, but if we run into too much heat, we¡¯ll pull back and do a joint push with Gendry. How¡¯s that ritual looking, Kristy?
Meaty, Kristy said after closing her eyes. It¡¯s easier to see here, but there¡¯s still a lot of interference. The impression I¡¯m getting is¡ not great. I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s a summoning or a gate¡ª
A gate! A much better word than ¡°doorway¡± for a magical portal. I guess I got fixated on the word ¡°door¡± because of the Doorman.
¡ªbut there¡¯s enough power gathering for either to be extremely bad news.
Lead the way, Walt, Albright said.
Walt nodded and took off in a light trot, leading us deeper into the warehouse. We passed opened shipping containers, the squalid suffering within making me more and more angry. By the time we passed the third dead child, I had to force my eyes away from the surroundings and keep them glued to Roy¡¯s back.
We have to do our job, Albright said to me, which I instinctively knew was a private line. If we don¡¯t, more than just these people will die. That said; we do have a medical team coming to do initial triage. They¡¯ll be arriving once we¡¯ve secured the entrance to the Domain.
Albright glanced at me over his shoulder, to which I nodded woodenly. The resentment that¡¯d been building up, which I didn¡¯t even notice until just now, settled out and was replaced with hatred for the cultists.
We came to a roughly square space, surrounded by shipping containers. On the floor was a double trap door like you see in older buildings out east. The right door was open, revealing a dim staircase.
Goes down about thirty feet, which is as far as I got, Walt said without taking his eyes off the opening. The threshold is just beyond.
Let¡¯s¡ª
Albright was cut off as another shoggoth boiled up from the opening with a violence of silent motion. Walt disappeared in a blur as Roy took a step forward, his foot hitting the ground like an anvil. His second step cracked the cement and shook the surrounding containers as it brought him within reach of the shoggoth. His sword leaped from its sheath as he brought his shield up and slammed it into the central mass of the shoggoth.
I expected a giant crash. Instead, I felt the impact through the floor as the shoggoth was knocked back six feet. Its form rippled as dozens¡ªpossibly hundreds of arms bristled from it like the fur of a startled cat. One section of arms shot out, looking like silly string fired from a cannon, and latched onto Roy¡¯s shield. As if expecting the attack, his sword came down an instant later and severed the arms.
With a roar that cut off as soon as he made contact, Greg tackled the shoggoth, slamming his fist once, twice, thrice into it as it reoriented on him. Hundreds of sharp nails and claws raked across his back and face, opening vicious wounds that disappeared a few seconds later.
Walt appeared behind the creature, his sword out of its sheath and moving with blurring speed. Arms of every shape and type imaginable flew through the air as the Naruto wannabe sliced and diced with the speed that would put a Benihana chef to shame.
I lifted my gun, trying to get a clear shot. Kristy pushed it down with a shake of her head. Too much risk of hitting a bystander, she said, indicating the shipping containers with a tilt of her head.
I swore, realizing she was right. Is that thing susceptible to magic?
It has some resistance to energy attacks, but that¡¯s about it, Kristy said.
That¡¯s all I needed to hear. I tapped into the strength of the mantle and gathered my magic, shaping it into a four-sided spearhead. When it was as dense as I could make it, I waited for a clear shot and rammed it into the center mass of the monster. It was completely soundless, but it let out the visual version of a scream as the distortion that embodied it seemed to go batshit. It hurled Greg to the side, his scream of surprise suddenly cutting in as soon as he was no longer in contact with it. More arms appeared as it dashed straight at me.
Roy pivoted, his movements smooth as a dancer even as his every step shook the warehouse. In a smooth motion, he got between me and the shoggoth, reversed his grip on his sword, and drove it down, pinning the monster to the ground.
With a scream of effort, I ratcheted up the power I was pushing into my magic and forced the four sides of the spearhead apart.
You ever get frustrated trying to open a pomegranate? Do you just, dig your thumbs into it and rip?
Yeah. It was like that.
The soundless nature of the shoggoth made it so I was denied the ripping and tearing noise, but my mind supplied them anyway as the shoggoth was suddenly split open like a gross, fleshy flower. Greg, who had recovered from being thrown and had been charging back into the fight, slowed down to a stop at the sight. Walt was looking at the creature with wide eyes. Roy¡¯s helmeted head slowly turned to look at me, his gaze less warm, more assessing. Beats'' expression seemed to say ¡°Not bad.¡±
Kristy clapped and hopped in place.
Sweat poured off my face and I panted, but I would be lying if I said their surprise wasn¡¯t gratifying.
Maybe you should stop antagonizing the guy, Walt, Beats said after a pregnant moment.
Book 2, Chapter 38
After making very sure the shoggoth was out of commission (which required two large swords), we resumed formation with the one change being Greg taking up the rear behind Kristy and me, and descended the stairs.
...And descended.
It became apparent that the staircase we were going down was not a product of any New Mexican construction company. The steps gradually transitioned from concrete to a sort of limestone, then to a dark granite. They stopped being uniformed, some going down two feet while others only a few inches. Because of the irregularity, I was getting more of a workout than going downstairs would normally demand.
The group maintained a cautious pace, which was fantastic as it let me recover. I was also straining at the delay. I could feel my brother down below us, thanks to the Blood Stick, but he wasn¡¯t getting any closer. I assumed that was because of the nature of the domain. Hopefully, when we crossed whatever threshold and entered it proper, I¡¯d be able to narrow it down.
Did you do that to the pirates? Kristy asked, breaking the oppressive silence.
No, I said. Most I killed with my hands. My tone made it clear it wasn¡¯t something I wanted to talk about.
I¡¯m not even sure if what I said was true. I shot a bunch as well. I think I only killed one with magic if you don¡¯t count all those copies of Mr. Forgettable I burned¡ªwhich I don¡¯t. I still don¡¯t know why the fuck they went up like a fireworks factory. Even before my fire power lost most of its potency, it was never that powerful outside of that weird liminal space he dragged me to.
At my reply, most of the group slowed a bit to glance back at me.
Oh, really?! That¡¯s so¡ª
Kristy, Albright interrupted her. Stay focused.
Kristy made a frustrated noise next to me. I caught Beats rolling her eyes. A glance behind me revealed Greg giving me a contemplative look.
As the conversation fell away and our attention returned to our surroundings (such as they were), I risked a bit of introspection to dive into what I¡¯ve started to call my ¡°Other¡± powers¡ªwhich is pretty lame, as far as names go. Not nearly as lame as ¡°Dark¡± powers, which was the runner-up.
I called them my Other powers because they weren¡¯t mine. I hadn¡¯t internalized them like I had with my danger-sense, psychometry, or the body-altering gift. There was something distinctly different about the abilities the Orphan had given me. The more I use them, the more I examine their nature, the more and more I suspect they are less a set of abilities I was given and more just¡ a loan. A loan from the passenger in my head. Like it was tossing me the keys to a car.
The Orphan doesn¡¯t communicate like humans do. Or even a being like Trix does. It simply gives you concepts that explode in your brain. It isn¡¯t painful, but there is so much information you have to struggle just to get the basic shape of its communication.
I didn¡¯t know any of that when I summoned it. I just knew it was a name listed in the back of the summoning book listed under ¡°Mostly harmless, staggering power.¡± A few entries behind the Doorman.
The Doorman, for reference, was listed as ¡°Middling danger, Middling power.¡± There have been many a night I¡¯ve stayed awake, wondering who the anonymous person who had authored that book was to consider the Doorman a ¡°middling¡± danger.
The keys simile doesn¡¯t quite match what is going on with my Other powers, however. If you¡¯re borrowing the car, you give the keys back. What I am given from my silent passenger is a form of pure knowledge. Knowledge so dense, so massive, and at the same time so basic that it gives me abilities that allow me to alter reality, in terms of how my body operates. I have a feeling that the passenger has to be present to act as a sort of buffer¡ªor perhaps firewall might be a better word, to protect my mind from the strain of such otherworldly and primal knowledge.
With all that in the back of my mind, I threw up my mental defenses as strongly as I could, and with the most gentle of touches, asked my passenger if it would be possible for more.
The wave of gratifying consent that flooded out from it terrified me. To the point that I stumbled.
Kristy caught me. You good?
I nodded quickly. Yeah, I said, trying to keep my mental voice even. Been a long day and these stairs are shit.
They really are, Greg agreed.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
I had almost asked my passenger for more but had changed my mind at the last minute to ask if it was merely possible. I was tremulously glad that I had. I have no doubt that whatever else the passenger gave me would have some visible effect on me, and I¡¯d rather not do it around the magical SWAT folks and be instantly murdered or, at the very least, have to answer a bunch of awkward questions.
Another minute passed before the stairs ended abruptly. It was jarring, as there was no indication the bottom was coming. Suddenly, we were no longer on the stairs. The group as a whole found themselves on a wide landing with an¡ entryway? It was a hole in the wall, some forty feet away. About five feet high and seven across. Now, the people around me must have some magical means of seeing or had augmented their eyes as I had so they could see in the dark, because no one was squinting and there was no light down here. But we all paused before the opening because we couldn¡¯t see through it. It was just black.
I felt my brother somewhere beyond it.
That¡¯s probably the threshold, Albright said. On your toes, everyone.
And then tentacles shot out of the black and impaled Roy.
Everyone but me reacted with instant violence. I was shocked into a moment of inaction because the tentacles looked almost exactly like the ones I could summon, if longer and more sinuous.
Roy had managed to block most of the tentacles, over a dozen, from hitting his vitals with a quick jerk of his shield. He ducked his head down and to the side while raising his shoulder, protecting his neck while three tentacles bounced off his helmet. His forearm on his sword arm, both his thighs, a calf, his left shoulder, and his hip were impaled by tentacles slightly thinner than my wrist. The tentacles punched through him half a dozen places, then curled to grip him. With a yank, they dragged him toward the black.
Greg shot past us all and grabbed the collar of Roy¡¯s breastplate while the rest of the crew opened fire into the black. As bullets whizzed by, Greg set his feet, drew his sword, and slammed it half a foot into the rock floor. As the tentacles dragged Roy forward, Greg slid with him until his foot met the flat of the sword stuck in the ground.
I could barely hear him over the gunfire, but Roy was roaring. My first instinct would be to say he was roaring in pain, but that¡¯s not accurate. Roy was pissed. His roar was one of anger. The tentacles yanked on Roy again but were much less effective with Greg holding onto him.
Suddenly Walt zipped around Roy like an anime character doing a super speed thing and the tentacles impaling the knight were severed. I felt another urge to dry heave as the severed tentacles began to writhe in Roy¡¯s wounds. Without the tentacles dragging his friend, Greg heaved and pulled Roy back, sliding him to the back of the formation next to Beats who immediately slung her gun and began to administer first aid. As soon as he saw Roy was out of harm''s way, Greg raised his machine gun with one hand and unloaded it into the darkness.
More tentacles were emerging from the black. Many were cut down by the fusillade of bullets, but more just kept coming.
When Kristy¡¯s bullpup ran dry, I finally snapped out of my surprise and raised my gun. Again, I hesitated, because while bullets seemed effective at keeping the tentacles back, they didn¡¯t seem to be stopping whatever was creating the tentacles. I consulted my own tentacle knowledge and came up with a theory.
I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a monster, I sent to Albright. I think it''s a ward or something similar. Get me closer and I can end it.
How close? Albright asked. He was firing his rifle as fast as he could pull the trigger, but I had yet to see him reload. I kept waiting for the tell-tale clang of a clip being ejected, but it never came. The barrel was starting to burn the wooden parts of the gun, creating puffs of smoke along the gun with every bullet.
I need to be able to see the bottom of the opening and read whatever is there, so, I paused as I did a quick estimation. Fifteen feet?
Beats? Albright asked.
This isn¡¯t a patch job, Beats said as she worked. I suggest falling back to the stairs so I can heal him, so he and Greg can keep the newbie alive while he does his work.
Let¡¯s do it, Albright agreed. Fall back, folks.
Help me with him, Beats said to me, nodding her head down to Roy. He¡¯s heavier than he looks.
I left Kristy¡¯s side (careful to move behind her and not in front of her barking gun) while holstering the Webley. I stuck the Blood Stick to the outside of my arm with a bit of my magic so I could free up my other hand, crouching down to lift Roy. He looks plenty heavy, I said with some trepidation.
Yup, Beats said as we both put a shoulder under an arm. On ¡°two.¡± One, TWO!
Holy shit Roy was heavy. I thought he was like Alice and was more dense, and so was fifty to a hundred pounds heavier. But he must weigh over five hundred pounds, easy¡ okay, so yes, he is like Alice in that he is denser, obviously, but I didn''t expect it to be two hundred pounds heavier. I have lifted slightly more weight at my best, but as any fireman or emergency worker will tell you, there¡¯s a lot of difference between weights at the gym and a human body.
Somebody¡¯s been eating their Wheaties, I said as I grunted.
Oh, yeah, sorry, Roy said. His mental voice sounded like he was talking through gritted teeth. A moment later he felt a hundred pounds lighter. With a suddenly easier job, Beats and I half carried, half dragged him towards the stairs as he was much taller than me and almost two feet taller than Beats. With the holes in his legs, he couldn¡¯t walk, so I had to crouch while I carried him so Beats could help distribute the weight.
After a few seconds, we were still walking towards the stairs. After a few more seconds, I saw Kristy backing up in the corner of my eye. I felt a pit grow in my stomach as I realized what may be happening.
Albright, I asked as I stopped walking, bringing Beats up short with a grunt. Do domains typically keep enemies from leaving?
I felt more than saw Albright¡¯s head whip around in my direction. There was a chorus of swearing that took me an instant to realize wasn¡¯t mentally projected.
Typically, yes, Albright confirmed.
I think we¡¯re fucking stuck here, I said with a sigh.
Book 2, Chapter 39
You got him? I asked Beats once it became clear we wouldn¡¯t make it back to the stairs.
Yeah, I¡¯ll have him back up in sixty, she said without looking up as she helped Roy to the floor. Go help the others.
I took a deep breath and turned towards the group, noticing most had backed up to within a few feet of us. Greg had dropped his big gun and instead had produced a much larger sword, almost five feet long, swinging it back and forth like it weighed nothing. Where the fuck had he gotten that? As I watched, he chopped dozens of tentacles that emerged from the black with every swing, ignoring the few that got through his defenses to poke neat holes in him. His follow-up swing would sever the few that got through, leaving wriggling tentacles in his body that were slowly pushed out as his wounds healed. Out of the many, many gross things I¡¯ve seen in recent years, that¡¯s near the top.
They¡¯re more magical than physical, Roy said, his mental voice strained. Punched right through my defenses. There¡¯s something weird about them.
That added more credence to my theory. I think they¡¯re from a higher dimension, I said as I hardened my magic into a blade and began to whip it back and forth to Greg¡¯s left. He immediately felt the difference in pressure from that side and began to focus more to the right. Over the next few seconds, he began to take less and less damage and started pushing forward a little as he reset his stance after every combination of swings.
How long can you keep that up? Albright asked, rightly assuming the invisible blade was my doing.
Not long, I said through a grunt. It was a surprisingly difficult application of telekinesis. I was used to focusing the power into a plane of force to stop bullets, but the smaller the area I made with the magic, and more dense, the more it wanted to expand to a more¡ gaseous, state? I guess? Normally, the telekinetic energy I gather sort of hangs around me in a cloud until I give it direction, condensing until it was strong enough to move the thing I want to move. That¡¯s what the spell was originally designed to do: move things. Because of Circe¡¯s method, I had learned to use the spell in every way it could be used, and then stretched it to many uses it was never meant to, over and over until it was very much a part of me. Thus, a simple spell that was used to move heavy objects could be used to block bullets, pierce things and rip them apart, strike and bludgeon¡ªyou get it.
It was a constant struggle to hone the energy into a space small enough to be cutting. It was like doing two math problems simultaneously while also having to keep coming UP with new math problems to do. Or rather, it was like doing complicated long division where the numbers tried to run away and you kept having to bring them back and then remember where they went in the long-ass equation.
Which was still a terrible simile because it didn¡¯t account for the horrible feedback of running something that was connected to my mind through magical, interdimensional flesh that fought the cohesion of my magic. It felt like trying to cut a steak with a knife made of ice while trying to shove the melting water back into the ice.
Keep it up for as long as poss¡ªAlbright drew up short as he pulled the trigger and nothing happened. I heard him grunt in annoyance, drop his weapon and pull another out of thin fucking air. He began shooting after doing a quick check of the gun.
We just need to hold out until Roy is up, then we¡¯ll push up and get you your shot, Albright continued.
Whatever magic that allowed you to summon guns and apparently infinite ammo, I needed to learn. I was so astonished, my blade of telekinetic energy became a club for a moment before I honed it back into a cutting edge with a protracted grunt of effort through gritted teeth. Sweat poured from my brow with the effort. It was getting harder and harder to cut through the tentacles¡ªthough the good news seemed to be we found a cap on how many the black could generate at once.
I think it¡¯s been sixty seconds, I said, my mental voice somehow conveying how out of breath I was.
If you think you can do a better job, you¡¯re welcome to come back here, Beats said, her own voice strained.
I growled audibly but didn¡¯t project the noise to the group. I walked to the side while pulling my Webley from my waistband holster and dumping out the one unspent shell into my hand. I dropped it in my pocket and pulled out one of my two remaining speed loaders, trying not to rush and also rushing the job of reloading the hateful gun. My telekinetic blade lost some of its edge with me splitting my attention, but I made up for it by swinging it around harder.
What are you doing¡ª? Albright asked curtly.
I snapped the Webley closed and lifted it, adopting a shooting stance. I was far enough to the side that there was no one in front of me besides Greg.
Try not to move, Greg, I said as I began to squeeze the trigger.
In one-second intervals, I emptied the Webley. Six wrist-thick beams of destruction punched through the tentacles and into the black wall from which they emerged. Upon hitting the black, the darkness convulsed around the impact sites, as if it was trying to cover up spots on its perfect surface. The result was a significant reduction of tentacles while the black convulsed upon itself.
Can you do that again? Albright asked after a heartbeat.
I glanced down at the Webley and saw some creeping black tinged with red tendrils seeping from the barrel of the gun into the cylinder. Not for a while no, I said. Not unless we¡¯ll all die otherwise.
I want to say the shots from the Webley created bullet holes in the black, but as the wall of darkness roiled against the wounds, they looked distinctly biological¡ not quite like wounds. What I¡¯m trying to say is they looked like buttholes made of darkness. Assholes that had tentacles emerging from around them. I had a strange premonition this day would feature heavily in my nightmares for years to come.
With the attacks from the Webley being slow to heal, the squad and I managed to push up a bit until the room started to shake. Before I had a chance to panic, I noticed the shaking was coming from Roy as he passed me, each of his footsteps thudding into the ground like a forklift falling over.
Armor? Albright asked.
Please, Roy said, his mental voice absent of the strain it had previously. I shot a quick glance behind me, seeing Beats covered in sweat and breathing heavily, still kneeling on the ground where I had left her.
When I turned back to the fight, Roy was in a completely new set of armor. Gone was the quasi-tactical gear and in its place was a matte gray suit of plate mail that looked straight out of grimdark MMO. It had minimal design flourish unlike what one would see in a fantasy show or historical display piece, instead showing an intimidating utilitarian design with some modern touches that suggested a modern engineer had spent a long time thinking about how to make a better suit of armor with modern techniques. After the shock of the armor wore off, I noticed his shield had been replaced with a larger version as well.
Push up, Albright said. Avery, you¡¯re with me. We¡¯ll get you as close as we can.
Roger, I replied, moving back into the group and hovering behind Albright. I holstered the Webley, knowing I wouldn¡¯t be shooting it any time soon¡ªunless we were all fucked.
With Roy taking the lead in his new duds, Greg stepped back into a slightly more passive role, giving me a moment to give him a look over. He didn¡¯t look great. He was breathing in deep, rasping breaths. He was covered in blood even without any currently bleeding wounds. His clothing was hanging from his arms and legs in scraps, only the breastplate on his chest holding everything together. He¡¯d even lost his hat.
I held back the manic giggle that threatened to overtake me at that last thought. I reined it in and took a deep breath.
The group steadily pushed forward. Roy¡¯s armor held off the tentacles admirably. Once they found they couldn¡¯t puncture the armor, the tentacles switched tactics and attempted to grab him and drag him to the wall of black. Having felt how heavy Roy was when dragging him earlier, I knew the strength of those tentacles. But I had also felt him make himself lighter, so I was strongly inclined to believe his magic had something to do with gravity or density. This belief was further encouraged when the tentacles couldn¡¯t even budge Roy¡¯s sword arm as he brought it back and forth in a motion so smooth it looked rehearsed, severing the majority of the tentacles attached to him.
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This is as close as we can get, Roy said, his mental voice heavy.
I glanced around him and could just barely make out some squiggles on the floor and wall around the opening just in front of the wall of black. I put my hand on Albright¡¯s back to let him know I was moving up.
The extra inches helped a lot, allowing me to turn the distant squiggles into something I recognized¡ English. What? Who the fuck wrote their wards in English? Well, whatever, I won¡¯t look a gift horse in the mouth.
See, usually when you begin to learn magic, you pick a language¡ªusually a minor or dead language that isn¡¯t spoken anymore¡ªbecause magic is influenced by thought. You know what else is influenced by thought? Language. And vice versa. So when you start to harness the mystical forces of the universe to bend reality to your will, you really don¡¯t want to taint your thought processes with words that have meaning outside of what you are trying to do. Let''s say you want a fire spell and cast it with the word ¡°fire.¡± That¡¯s nice. But you¡¯ve been using the word fire all of your life. What if one errant memory of ¡°fire¡± enters your mind while casting? What if you think of the verb and completely change the outcome of the spell?
Using another language that is new to you is basically clearing off your desk before you start to work, so nothing gets in the way or taints what you are working on. Obviously, I¡¯m oversimplifying, but it¡¯s a good metaphor.
So the ward being written in English lends evidence to a couple of possibilities. Either whoever wrote the ward is uneducated in magic (kinda like myself, but even I know not to use a common language), without the fundamentals. Or¡ªand this is very concerning¡ªthe person who wrote the ward was so focused and competent mentally that they didn¡¯t need the handicap of using an unfamiliar language.
Now, you¡¯d think that the ward being written in English would make it easier to dismantle. And you¡¯d be half right. It means I didn¡¯t have to guess from context what words mean what. But wards were all about shaping magic on a two-dimensional surface¡ªand because of that constraint, once you get a good enough grasp on wards, the language used with them is far less important than how the ward itself is constructed to direct energy, and the individual methodology behind it.
The author of the journal I studied on how to deconstruct wards was adamant that in order to deconstruct a ward, you had to reverse engineer it so you know what to attack. I have found this to be only partially true. I have come to this conclusion because I designed a really good ward once, but fucked up a crucial step and locked myself out of my house. I knew how the ward was constructed, yet it took me three days to figure out how to dismantle the fucking thing. Since then, I have made it a habit every now and then to design a ward without a way of turning it off, to see how fast I can deconstruct it. It makes for a fun weekend.
With these experiences under my belt, I would say that the more important step in disabling a ward would be to know how it directs energy. Once you have that stable point from which to work from, the basic shape of the ward comes into focus and thus becomes that much easier to disrupt.
All of this ran through the back of my mind as I studied the writing in front of me. Seeing the ward in action for the last few minutes already gave me an idea of how to defeat it. Assuming this was the only entrance to the domain, the ward would need a way to detect friend from foe, and thus must need to direct some of its energy in a non-focused, benign way¡ like that spot over there.
On either side of the wall of black, on the actual stone walls of the room on what I¡¯d call the ¡°jamb¡± of the ward, were two sets of identical instructions that I heavily suspected were used to identify friendlies. I focused my magic into a point and began etching symbols into the wall.
What¡¯s the ETA, Avery? Albright asked. His gun was gone and he was hacking at the tentacles that made it past our two front-liners with a mean-looking kukri.
About thirty seconds per wall, I replied. After that, I¡¯ll need to get closer to energize the counter-measure.
You have to touch it? Albright asked.
Yeah, I said distractedly as I did a bunch of math in my head. Fucking fractions. I corrected a symbol I had already put down, making the thing look weird. I was etching the symbols, so I couldn¡¯t erase them with the rush I was under. Going to basically short it out.
Walt, going to need your assistance for the final push, Albright said.
I¡¯ll need a break afterward or I¡¯ll be useless for the rest of the day, Walt said.
Understood, Albright said. Wait for my mark.
Seconds became a minute as I worked. I slowed down towards the end and reviewed my progress, making sure I was making a new ward command rather than a shittily made bomb.
Can¡¯t keep this up much longer, Roy said with a heavy voice. Greg added a grunt in support of the statement.
I ignored them and kept looking over my work, comparing it to the enemy ward. I was just about to say I was ready when I spotted a sequence on the ceiling that changed the frequency of the whole operation and rushed to correct my counter-ward, having to add three new lines in a Frankenstein¡¯s Monster of eldritch scripting.
Ready! I said when the final symbol was down¡ªthe one I needed to touch. It was slightly less than fifteen feet away, and looked ugly and rough from having to use my magic awkwardly to carve it.
Push! Albright cried.
Greg and Roy roared and began attacking with renewed fervor, slowly gaining ground. I reformed my magic into a blade, feeling a deep ache form at the base of my skull as I pushed the magic into a shape it didn¡¯t want to be in.
The floor was covered with severed tentacles, making footing treacherous. Greg slid his feet forward, in a way that reminded me of some moves from Wing Chun, shoving tentacles out of the way with shuffling steps. Roy just lifted his leg high with each step and brought his foot down with enough force to shake the cave, squishing the tentacles under his feet like a machine press. He had to wait for the interdimensional flesh to stop pancaking under his feet until he moved again, otherwise he¡¯d just create a slippery slurry if he rushed.
I just pushed forward and accepted the awkward footing, not having the attention to spare to find clear spots. If Greg or Roy lost their footing, we¡¯d probably all die. If I fell over, I had to get back up.
Once we came within five feet of the ward, our advance was halted. The damage I had been able to inflict with the Webley was nearly gone now, and scores of tentacles attacked over and over. Greg and Roy worked together to chop them down with superhuman speed, strength, and coordination: I had never been more impressed by two people in my life.
Walt! Albright called.
Suddenly, all the tentacles fell to the ground and a deathly pale Walt was stumbling past me, to be caught in the waiting arms of Beats who had approached from behind me without being noticed. Okay, maybe don¡¯t antagonize Walt. Did that motherfucker just do an anime finishing move?
Go! Albright shouted, his mental voice a gunshot in my psyche.
Roy and Greg dashed forward in the sudden absence of tentacles. I trailed behind them by half a second. The tentacles were already re-forming, but it seemed we were lucky: trying to recreate all of them at once seemed to slow all of them down, like a computer that had run out of RAM capacity. Roy and Greg took up positions around my counter-ward while being careful not to step on it. I leaned down into a slide, ignoring the scraping rock on my belly and the Webley digging into my groin as I flopped down.
Time seemed to slow as my hand approached my counter-ward. A long, sickly thin hand, the same shade of black as my own hand shot from the black wall and seized my wrist with machine-like strength. I almost froze in pure shock but managed to bull ahead and reach for the ward with my other hand.
The hand gripping me reacted by lifting me into the air, the force making my shoulder scream with pain. I flopped in the air as the arm¡¯s momentum suddenly stopped, my hip smacking painfully into Roy¡¯s sword arm.
My eyes widened in Terror as I saw half a dozen tentacles suddenly accelerate out of the black, aiming at my neck and torso. I tried to harden my magic around me, but I knew it wouldn¡¯t be enough.
Greg saved me. Suddenly the big-chinned bruiser was in front of me. For a split second, I thought he had sliced the tentacles away until one burst through his skull and stopped two inches from my throat.
I screamed wordlessly and in pure reaction clawed the hand that gripped my wrist. Ripples of pain went up and down my fingers and hand up to my elbow as my nails sheared through the offending limb with hardly any resistance.
No longer held in the air, I fell. Because the tentacles hadn¡¯t extricated themselves from his body, Greg was still standing in front of me. I used him¡ªI used his corpse for cover as more tentacles came my way, shoving it forward a foot and reaching between his legs to slap my hand on the counter-ward, slamming my will into it with the intention of forcing it to work. With a sound like metal scraping, the symbols and English circling the five-foot hole in the wall flashed through the prism of color before fading away, revealing a narrow tunnel.
The black wall and the tentacles that emerged from it were gone, but not the severed tentacles on the ground. With nothing holding him up, Greg¡¯s body collapsed on top of me, knocking the air out of my lungs. Roy quickly lifted it off me and carried it to Beats, who stepped away from Walt to examine the body. I slowly pushed myself up into a seated position, which is when I saw my hand.
I had grown claws, very much like the kind I had had last year during the cruise. Using some instinct I didn¡¯t know I had, I shook my hand, once again experiencing the rippling pain as my claws became nails again.
That¡¯s¡ problematic.
Good work, Albright said tightly as he and Kristy moved up to cover the tunnel. I gave him a severe frown.
Good work? Your teammate just died¡ªWait.
I glanced over at Beats and Greg when I had the critical thought about Albright and noticed something: the dude was still breathing.
He¡¯s not dead? I asked.
Highly likely he¡¯ll recover, especially with Beats here, Albright said. He¡¯s lost his entire head before, so I have high hopes.
His entire head?!
Kristy shot me a ¡°just between us girls¡± look. He¡¯s always a little weird after it happens.
Kristy, Albright said with a note of warning.
Kristy winked at me and returned to watching the tunnel.
Book 2, Chapter 40
Incoming! Kristy¡¯s combined shout and gunfire startled me awake from a nap I didn¡¯t realize I had been taking. I shook my head and looked up to see Albright rush forward to take a position opposite Kristy, firing down the tunnel at whatever was coming.
They¡¯re thralls, Albright said calmly. I can¡¯t shake whatever is controlling them, which has me worried. Switch to verbal communication.
Why¡ªI suddenly realized my thoughts were no longer being broadcast to the group. ¡°Why the change?¡± I shouted over the gunfire. I got to my feet as quickly as I could, rotating my shoulder to work the stiffness out of it.
Suddenly Roy moved in front of me, waving me back with his free hand as his left lifted one of the belt-fed machine guns he and Greg had been carrying. ¡°So the boss can focus on defense,¡± he said as he walked up to relieve Kristy.
Kristy¡¯s gun ran dry and she dropped the mag, reaching for another one. She stopped as Roy arrived and backed away from the tunnel entrance before replacing the spent magazine. Suddenly gunfire could be heard from down the tunnel and Kristy¡¯s face broke into a giddy grin.
¡°Finally!¡± She cried as a kind of magic I had never felt before bloomed out of her. She started to cackle like a lunatic as the bullets from the tunnel hit an invisible wall and¡ what was happening to them? I had to focus and squint because there was a¡ mental component to Kristy¡¯s magic. It looked like the bullets were being eaten?
¡°What the fuck is she doing?¡± I asked Albright in a voice I was hoping was loud enough to get over the gunfire but wouldn¡¯t carry to Kristy. Albright had fallen back towards me as soon as the return gunfire had started.
Albright inspected his rifle before shooting me an amused glance. ¡°Kristy¡¯s magic is pretty unique. It¡¯s a weird mix of inertia stealing, entropy, and sacrifice magic. Doesn¡¯t have broad application, but for the situations it was meant for it can be scarily effective.¡±
As he finished his explanation he tilted his head towards Kristy and I noticed that her scary backpack was vibrating like an overpowered subwoofer. Kristy continued to cackle as she slung her gun and pulled at the straps of the backpack, swinging it in front of her and holding it forward like a shield. As she lifted it, a big, fanged mouth appeared on it and the backpack screamed a war cry. From its mouth dozens of tiny bullet-shaped, glowing pink comets floated out and then shot down the tunnel, briefly bathing the room in a warm pink corona.
The gunfire from the tunnel petered out over the next few seconds.
My curiosity overcame my caution (as it usually does) and I slipped up to the tunnel and peaked down it. I sucked in a surprised breath through my teeth, not expecting the dozens of bodies to carpet the relatively small tunnel. Each body was perforated with dozens of burning bullet wounds. I raised my eyes to look further, to see the angry pink comets diving in and out of more people down the tunnel, causing havoc and death of which they could do nothing to defend.
I glanced at Kristy, who was grinning at me insanely.
¡°A part of me feels ambivalent about a spell so tailor-made for slaughter,¡± I said in the sudden lack of quiet. ¡°The bigger part of me realizes you probably can only use it after being shot at so, you know, I think it¡¯s kind of rad.¡±
Her smile took on a much more happy, goth-flavored ¡°girl next door¡± vibe. ¡°Why thank you, Colm,¡± she said as she put her backpack back on. ¡°I am rather fond of it.¡±
Kristy fell back as Roy took over her position by the tunnel, the giant knight holding the big machine gun with one hand like it was a Nerf rifle. We settled in to wait for a bit, as Greg was still recovering. He was awake and conscious, but was non-verbal and responded to prompting with a significant delay. Beats acted like this was normal and ran Greg through a few diagnostic exercises while occasionally casting a spell that felt to my magical senses as if you wrapped the THX noise in honey. It doesn¡¯t make sense but it filled me with a desire to have that magic cast on me.
I sat against the wall near Greg and Beats, and when no one was looking, I studied my hand. What the fuck had happened? Obviously, I had grown claws in a moment of panic, but then I had undone it. Can I reverse this transformation? If I can influence this, does that mean this spreading transformation has a psychosomatic component? I wished I could dive into my borrowed knowledge of my silent passenger, but I barely risked even thinking about it while being near Albright. Thankfully, he seemed to be on the lookout for outside influences now, so I think I had less to worry about.
I focused on my hand, willing it to change to my old skin tone¡ªwhich is when it occurred to me that, with the growing patch of black skin on my torso, the skin I was born with was now in the minority. I sighed and set aside the maudlin thought, focusing on what I wanted my hand to do. I felt¡ something. I spent several long minutes staring at my hand, without seeing or feeling a change¡ until a shift in attention caused me to stumble in my effort, causing my skin to lose some of its smooth, inky texture. It looked more like normal skin.
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The effort was mentally draining, however, so I dropped the attempt and looked up while shaking my hand. I could feel the change to my hand revert as soon as I took my attention off it. Greg was sitting up now, speaking in short, truncated sentences with Beats who kept casting that weird, oddly comforting spell every few moments. Albright was back near the staircase, muttering some spells and attempting to figure a way out of here if I had my guess. Roy and Kristy were watching down the tunnel we had opened up (I ignored the blood that was flowing from the tunnel). Walt was passed out opposite me against the far wall, snoring lightly.
The only thing I wanted right now was to lie down and pass out for a few days, but Conner was waiting somewhere ahead. Now that I was focusing on the blood stick that was still attached to my arm, I could feel my connection to my brother¡ but I couldn¡¯t pin down a location. At most, I got a sense of direction. Guapo had said they hadn¡¯t found a magical defense that could block it, but had they tried it in a domain? I doubted it.
I sighed and slowly got to my feet, resisting the urge to grunt and groan with every motion. Even if I was recovering thanks to the modifications I¡¯d made to my body, I had had a rough week. I wanted nothing more than to take a hot bath and sleep for an epoch. I shoved my gripes aside and crossed over to Albright.
¡°Any luck?¡± I murmured as I came up beside him.
¡°No,¡± Albright said. ¡°Though, honestly, I don¡¯t have much experience with trying to leave before dealing with the cynosure. That ward was¡ surprisingly difficult to deal with.¡±
¡°Cynosure?¡± I asked.
He gestured behind us, toward the domain. ¡°The center of the domain. There¡¯s an item or spell at the center holding all this together. Breaking it releases a wave of chaotic magic that starts to tear everything apart, allowing escape.¡±
¡°And were you going to tell me this before or after I discovered I couldn¡¯t escape with my brother?¡± I asked.
Albright turned and regarded me silently for several moments, before closing his eyes with a sigh. ¡°I apologize,¡± Albright said, surprising me. ¡°I have been¡ªno, we have been under a lot of stress and I have been, perhaps, more combative than the situation warrants.¡±
He opened his eyes, his expression less hard, more tired. ¡°To tell the truth, one of the reasons it took so long for us to investigate the reports of the Martinez clan was because similar situations have been happening all over the planet,¡± he took off his glasses and produced a cleaning cloth from a pocket. He began cleaning them with the deliberate care that seemed meditative rather than utilitarian. ¡°I haven¡¯t done fieldwork in a decade, but it''s an ¡®all hands on deck¡¯ situation. Even the boss is putting out fires.¡±
Albright being new to the team made sense, what with how Walt had been acting. I would assume Walt to be the newest member, and thus not used to changing personnel or figuring out the way the new boss did things. It would go far to explain how passive the rest of the group had been when I first met them, watching how the new boss did things. I ran a hand through my hair, undoing some tangles caused by some sticky substance. Jesus, I hope that¡¯s not vomit in my hair.
I nodded. ¡°Yeah, I had hoped this was an isolated thing but figured it might not be, if only for the fact they seemed spread all over the country. Also¡¡±
I took a deep breath and let it out in a puff. ¡°A lot of the blame can be aimed at me, for the sourness in our interactions. I¡¯m¡ªnot good¡ªwith people,¡± I said with a stilted cadence. ¡°Authority figures in particular.¡±
Albright frowned. ¡°I¡¯m an authority figure?¡±
¡°You¡¯re literally the magical secret police,¡± I retorted.
He barked a surprised laugh. ¡°I guess so.¡±
I regarded the stairway for a moment. ¡°So we gotta kill the thing at the center before we can leave. I assume since this is an extra-dimensional space, destroying the thing holding it all together will put a timer on how long we can stay?¡±
¡°Yes,¡± Albright said with a nod. ¡°Though it isn¡¯t like a movie self-destruct timer. We¡¯ll have days before the space begins to revert.¡±
I relaxed some tension I didn¡¯t know I¡¯d be holding, nodding. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡±
I regarded the stairs again. ¡°Should we be expecting backup?¡± I asked.
Albright¡¯s face fell. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. I haven¡¯t been able to reach anyone outside. I have multiple ways of contacting Gendry, and they are all failing in a way that makes me think this domain is a time bubble.¡±
I sighed and ran both my hands through my hair this time, shaking the shaggy strands as I massaged my scalp. ¡°Of course. And we don¡¯t know how severe it is.¡±
¡°Can¡¯t be too severe,¡± Albright said. ¡°My dimensional storage magic only has a delay of a few seconds, so the time dilation won¡¯t be measured in years. But it¡¯s still significant enough that it¡¯ll be hours in our time before we can expect reinforcements. Maybe days.¡±
We both turned to look at the tunnel behind us. ¡°And who knows what they¡¯ll cook up to deal with us in that time,¡± I muttered.
Albright hummed in agreement, returning his glasses to his face. ¡°So, once Walt¡¯s done with his nap and Greg¡¯s back on his feet, we¡¯ll be continuing on.¡±
¡°Better rest up while I can, I guess,¡± I said quietly.
Albright nodded before handing me a canteen he hadn¡¯t had a moment ago. ¡°Here.¡±
¡°So you¡¯re a telepath and a mule?¡± I asked with a small smile as I took the canteen.
¡°Pretty much,¡± Albright said, picking up his rifle that he had leaned against the wall. ¡°I decided I didn¡¯t like reloading, one thing led to another, and now I carry around an interdimensional warehouse.¡±
That¡¯s¡ pretty dope, actually. I made an appreciative noise as I drained half the canteen.
Albright went to check on Greg and Beats and I went back to my spot by the wall. I told myself I was just going to rest my eyes for a few moments...
Book 2, Chapter 41
I found myself in a black void. No floor. No stars. Nothing in the distance at all. With an odd sense of detachment, I lifted my hand to make sure it was still there and was shocked to realize that I was dreaming¡ªbecause it was the hand I remembered before my transformation from a year ago. In my dreams, I rarely had the black skin that was slowly spreading over me, as if I refused to internalize the transformation.
I was further surprised when I didn¡¯t wake up. That¡¯s usually the switch that wakes me up; when I realize I¡¯m dreaming. Instead, a growing sense of dread overcame me as I floated in the endless black.
Wait, if everything is black, how the fuck did I see my hand? My eyes can see in the dark, but they still need some light¡ª
My thoughts were interrupted by a wave of sound that sounded like a cough rocked all of creation. The coughing continued for several seconds, forcing me to curl into a ball with my hands clamped on my ears in a futile attempt to avoid the pressure. Eventually, the coughing died out, followed by someone clearing their throat.
¡°Is this working?¡± A titanic voice said, the vibrations making my chest hurt. ¡°I swear if you still can¡¯t understand me, I¡¯m just going to kill you and the Orphan can suck my dick for all I care.¡±
Even knowing this was a dream, I was terrified. That voice was just so massive, that it pinged some sort of primitive survival instinct that made it nearly impossible not to cower. With a massive effort of willpower, I pried open an eye and did a double-take.
I was looking down at myself. I mean, the being that suddenly appeared in this endless black was me, only scaled up to be impossibly big. There was nothing near him so it was impossible for me to gauge just how big, but I was floating at an area near his throat and his eyes were still so high I had to crane my neck to look at them. Giant-me was wearing a tailored three-piece suit, all black save for a vest which was red and oddly wet looking, like blood. My normally shaggy hair was styled to frame his/my face attractively. He also sported a goatee, which was fitting if this was some mirror-universe evil version of me.
But the thing that really caught my attention was that his skin, eyes, teeth¡ªeverything was a familiar inky black. So black that I really should have trouble seeing him, even with my improved eyes.
¡°Well?¡± The giant voice crashed over me again, forcing my eyes shut in fear. ¡°Can you understand me?¡±
I nodded shakily. ¡°Hurts,¡± I forced myself to say.
¡°Hmm?¡± Other-me said thoughtfully.
I felt something about the universe change, a weird sense of inner-ear tickling, vertigo-induced nausea washing through my body before it settled out. I found myself on a surface. Something about being on the ground¡ªer¡ªgrounded me, and allowed me to corral my fear.
¡°How about now?¡± A much reduced, but still incredibly powerful voice said from behind me.
I forced myself not to shudder and slowly climbed back to my feet, turning to find¡ a living room? It was like a set from a TV set for a show about a well-to-do upper-crust American family. I say set, because at my feet the carpet for the room started and turned into the room, with a cozy fireplace, bookshelves, and high vaulted ceiling with skylights¡ and behind me, there was just black.
In front of the fireplace were two large, leather chairs with a coffee table between them. In the chair on the right, I saw the back of my doppelganger''s head. He turned and regarded me with an annoyed glance. ¡°Well?¡± He prompted, gesturing at the chair irritably.
I cautiously approached and took a seat opposite him. We weren¡¯t directly facing each other. The chairs were arranged to have the fireplace be the focus of the arrangement, but were angled so conversation would be natural.
Relief showed on the other me''s face as I sat down. ¡°Thank fuck,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to talk to you for months.¡±
I frowned at his words. The only thing I could think of was the nightmares I¡¯d been having. ¡°My nightmares?¡±
Other-me nodded. ¡°I had to keep dumbing myself down,¡± he said offhandedly. ¡°No offense to you, but it¡¯s been close to a hundred thousand years since I¡¯ve had to communicate with anything as complicated as language.¡±
I frowned at the contradiction. ¡°You had to dumb down to be more complicated?¡±
Other-me grinned, his smile stretching his face slightly too wide to be human. ¡°You¡¯ll get it if you ever become powerful enough,¡± he said with amusement. ¡°All these steps you have to go through to get what you want when you¡¯re born in a meat suit are just complications the universe has built up around us to keep us from the truth. Eating, sleeping, clothing, hot, cold, technology, magic¡ªthey are all just the fetters to convince you that you know the truth when the truth is so far out of your grasp you can¡¯t even see the edges of it.¡±
¡°...And what is the truth?¡± I asked.
The grin became wider still, turning my face into something horrifying. ¡°We are all just as powerful¡ªand weak¡ªas we want to be.¡±
His face returned to normal and he dismissively waved his hand, brushing away the topic. ¡°But I¡¯m not here to enlighten you on how to become a god,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ll either figure it out or you won¡¯t. Most don¡¯t. No, today we need to talk about the Distiller.¡±
¡°What?¡± My nightmares had started long before I knew my brother was missing. Hell, they had started before he had gone missing. ¡°Did you know my brother was going to be kidnapped?!¡±
Other-me snorted. ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I merely started to contact you because you were driving me up the wall with your ineptitude and I thought I¡¯d drop some hints and tips into your subconscious to speed the process along. No, I started to put in effort when you figured out the Distiller cult bullshit, as the light touch wasn¡¯t doing shit,¡± he frowned severely at me. ¡°You are unusually dense.¡±
¡°Why do you care about the Distiller?¡± I asked, ignoring the insult. I mean, he isn¡¯t wrong.
¡°He¡¯s a fuckface,¡± other-me said with surprising heat. ¡°Why become a god if all you¡¯re going to do is unmake everything? What¡¯s the point? Where¡¯s the fun? I mean, we all have our ¡®raze everything and salt the earth¡¯ phase, but CHRIST man.¡±
Other me pinched the bridge of his nose before pinning me with his black stare. ¡°Aside from our philosophical differences, he¡¯s a shitty neighbor and has been trying to take what¡¯s mine. I keep kicking him out, but now he¡¯s trying to find a back door into my house.¡±
¡°My universe,¡± I guessed.
He pointed a finger gun at me and ¡°fired.¡± ¡°Bingo,¡± he said, leaning into the back of his chair. ¡°The funny thing is that he¡¯s not even directing these little underlings. The powers they get by worshiping him are a mistake he hasn¡¯t bothered to correct. In fact, I¡¯d bet my left testicle that if he knew they were benefiting from worshiping him he¡¯d take steps to correct that.¡±
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¡°So,¡± he continued, gesturing at me with one hand. ¡°We have you. I need you to stop faffing about and kill all his worshipers in your universe so I don¡¯t have to worry about him on two fronts.¡±
¡°Are you issuing a holy pogrom?¡± I joked.
¡°You aren¡¯t one of mine, and it¡¯d be weird if you were,¡± he said dismissively, which was NOT the reaction I was expecting. "So no holy war for you."
¡°Oh yeah, hey, while I got you here,¡± I said with forced levity. ¡°WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?¡±
¡°You already know, kid,¡± other-me said with the same dismissive air. ¡°Or at least suspect. What do you call that presence in the back of your mind?¡±
¡°My silent passenger,¡± I muttered. ¡°Which, I guess, isn¡¯t fitting anymore.¡±
¡°Suppose not,¡± other-me said.
¡°But what ARE you?¡± I pressed. ¡°Why are we talking right now? How come when I interact with you when I¡¯m awake, I¡¯m suddenly better with magic? And my magic gets WEIRDER?¡±
Other-me glanced at his watch before debating silently for a few seconds, eventually shrugging. ¡°We don¡¯t have a ton of time, so I¡¯ll give you something to gnaw on until we can talk again,¡± he said, adjusting his suit.
¡°I¡¯m¡ you,¡± he said, pausing long enough before continuing, making me think he was going to leave it at that. ¡°From a higher universe. We share a lot of commonalities. Same parents, siblings, birthplace and time. Only my universe is way older, and unlike most versions of us, I figured out the Big Truth and ascended beyond the fetters of mortality and, because I owed the Orphan a favor, you are now the owner of a shitty, low-res and twice copied version of me.¡±
I stared, my incredulous gaze slowly shifting into a look that blended horror with disbelief. I remembered, quite vividly, the multiple times this self-admitted lesser copy of a god had attempted to speak to me.
¡°Why?¡± I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Other-me shrugged. ¡°The Orphan isn¡¯t super talkative, as you well know. The only thing I know about them after being around for a couple of million years is that they love to get new shinies and will occasionally throw a machine gun into a monkey enclosure to see what happens.¡±
¡°Why this particular monkey? Or this particular machine gun?¡± I asked.
Other-me threw up his hands. ¡°What do you want me to say, kid? I don¡¯t know. All I know was that I was sitting in the Orphan¡¯s back pocket for a couple of eons and then all of a sudden I¡¯m crammed into the head of a dude who pissed off the Doorman. The Orphan has access to millions or trillions of ways for you to get out of that particular situation, but instead in threw a copy of a version of yourself where you grew up to be Kroger Brand Cthulhu. Instead of calling the mom of your bully to get him off you, he handed you the codes to a nuke and told you to sort it out yourself.¡±
¡°You have in no way been as effective as a nuke,¡± I said with some heat.
He inclined his head and gestured with his hand as if to say ¡°You got me there.¡± ¡°True, but whenever I try to help, you become as skittish as a virgin in a whore house. Granted, it¡¯s wise to be cautious of an unfamiliar entity taking residence within your mind that you were forced to accept in life-threatening circumstances, but the point stands.¡±
Other-me waved his hands as if dispelling smoke. ¡°But enough of that, you¡¯re going to wake up soon and we need to cover some gaping holes in your capabilities before you get yourself killed. To that end: Why the fuck aren¡¯t you using your fire?¡±
The sudden topic change caught me unprepared and it took me a second to change gears. ¡°Uh, because it¡¯s basically a fancy Bic at this point? I wasn¡¯t able to fulfill the contract and the effect of the¡ªthe ¡°power,¡± for lack of a better term, has diminished to the point of a fire starter. Even the tangential ability to see how flammable things are faded to the point of uselessness.¡±
Other-me nodded along while I talked, fingers laced under his chin, giving me his full attention. When I finished, he continued to regard me silently for a few tense moments.
¡°Do you know why you trade souls for power?¡± He asked.
Again, the sudden change in topic caught me up short.
¡°I don¡¯t mean why you, philosophically, exchange souls for power,¡± he elaborated. ¡°I mean to say, why are they necessary? Why souls? What are they used for?¡±
Was¡ this a trick question? Was I actually supposed to answer? ¡°There¡¯s been debate¡ª¡°
¡°These are rhetorical questions,¡± Other-me interrupted, and I closed my mouth with a click of my teeth. ¡°I¡¯m about to drop some truth on you, kid, so pull out your notebook and listen diligently.¡±
Other-me stood and began pacing in front of the fire, adopting a speechifying professor''s presence. ¡°Souls traded to devils, demons, beings of other worlds and planes, are fiber-wire.¡±
I blinked.
¡°Or perhaps copper wire would be a better metaphor, as I don¡¯t think fiber optics can supply power, just light. Hmm,¡± Professor Me paused in his pacing as he got lost in thought.
¡°Well, whatever,¡± he suddenly said with a shrug. ¡°Souls aren¡¯t traded between universes because they are valuable,¡± he said, stopping in front of me and pinning me with his black gaze. ¡°They are valuable because they can be traded.
¡°Only souls can carry information and power between universes without expending HUGE amounts of energy. Remember the gate Mr. Love made for the Doorman? Remember all the blood, all the sacrifices that coated those steps? Imagine all the power that had been gathered¡ all for one, brief doorway.
¡°Which brings us back to you; you traded two souls but you needed four. But here¡¯s the thing: the connection¡¯s been made. You have the power. You killed a guy a million times with it. The only thing that¡¯s changed is the bandwidth for the power has atrophied, unable to maintain itself on the shaky foundation of two souls.¡±
Professor me paused and leaned forward.
¡°But the power is still there.¡±
He straightened and mimed rearranging something with his hands. ¡°Since the connection to Axtrixxinizinia has withered, we¡¯ll just have to make some adjustments so you can manipulate the ability yourself. Supply your own power, so to speak. It¡¯ll lose some utility, but who cares?! You aren¡¯t using it anyway as it is.¡±
I listened to all of this with a frown on my face. ¡°Won¡¯t changing the¡ connection, to Trix, alter the power?¡±
¡°Nah,¡± other me said with frustrating nonchalance. ¡°You already know. You have it. That can¡¯t be taken away. Well, it can, but that usually involves cranial trauma. Listen, it¡¯s like this: What fuels your future sight?¡±
Instead of making a guess, I just shrugged.
Other-me chuckled. ¡°There¡¯s a trickle of magic being fed to you constantly, along the line you paved with souls you traded to Axtrixxinizinia. Now with the fire power, because you needed a bigger stick to solve your little pirate problem, she altered the deal between you so that the normal, steady if reduced power you¡¯d receive from just two souls was instead the maximum amount she could shove at you without severing the connection completely, which damaged said connection.
¡°But the first thing that happened was she sent you an instinctual knowledge of how to create and harness fire with your mind. Part of the pain that came with accepting the incomplete contract was her shoving that knowledge into a human mind that wasn¡¯t quite ready for it.¡±
Suddenly my negotiations with Trix were taking on a new light. Stipulations she had adamantly enforced no matter what tactic I used I now suspected were in place because the deal couldn¡¯t work without them.
¡°So what do I do?¡± I asked. As the words left my mouth, I felt a shift in the universe.
Other me sighed in contentment. ¡°Already done, boy-oh. We¡¯re nestled deep in your subconscious, so as soon as you decided to accept my help, I was able to make the change.¡±
Boy, did I hate that.
¡°Oh, don¡¯t make that face,¡± other me said as he sat back down. ¡°It was either that or nothing. We¡¯re almost out of time.¡±
I grew mildly alarmed. ¡°Can you tell what¡¯s happening outside?¡±
¡°Nope,¡± he said happily. ¡°Just that if we talk for much longer your brain will melt like ice cream left on the dash.¡±
¡°WHAT?!¡±
¡°I may be a shitty copy, but I¡¯m still a shitty copy of a nearly infinite expanse of power and knowledge that you¡¯d need the magical equivalent of Fort Knox just to be able to exist next to my boot print,¡± other me explained with some satisfaction. ¡°The fact that the Orphan snuck me inside your head without killing you is a big clue as to why no one fucks with the thing.¡±
I shot to my feet and renewed my efforts to wake up.
¡°One last thing before I let you go,¡± other me said as he rose from the seat and stood in front of me. I had to fight not to cringe away from him. He had a presence like gravity, but sinister. It made my skin crawl. ¡°You won¡¯t be able to set things on fire from far away. Or you will, but it¡¯ll be extremely tiring and make you all but useless. But you do have something that gives you range.¡±
I frowned in thought. ¡°My magic? Telekinesis?¡±
¡°Bingo!¡± Other me said happily, his smile stretching too wide again.
¡°So¡ I should, what, funnel the fire towards what I¡¯m fighting? Like a hose?¡± I asked.
Other me cuffed me upside the head. It hurt quite a bit.
¡°No, you fucking dense idiot,¡± Other me said with exasperation. ¡°Combine them!¡±
¡°What?¡±
But my question went unanswered as the dream started to fade.
Book 2, Chapter 42
I was slow to wake up. Voices were crashing in my ears.
¡°What¡¯s happening? Beats?¡± A first voice said with mild concern.
¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± a second, closer voice answered. ¡°Hortens¡¯ Diagnostique only shows hemorrhaging in his ears and mucus membranes and some brain swelling, but not what could cause it. It reminds me of the time Johnson fought the Cairn Wight.¡±
¡°I would have felt a psychic attack,¡± the first voice stated.
¡°Hence my confusion.¡±
Something metallic was pushed into my mouth and it tasted like someone mixed concentrated garlic and ginger with electricity.
¡°Hold him down! He¡¯s stronger than he looks.¡±
¡°Roy, take over.¡±
Big hands grasped my biceps and pinned me to the ground.
¡°You weren¡¯t kidding,¡± a strained deep voice said. ¡°He mentioned that he¡¯s stronger than normal, but with how thin he is I didn¡¯t give it much thought. He could give you a run for your money.¡±
Another deep voice grunted as the pressure on my biceps increased.
¡°Greg, help me open his mouth. I don¡¯t want him cracking his teeth if he bites down.¡±
Fingers grasped my face and jaw and pried my mouth open. The metal thing returned and was pushed into the back of my throat. The discomfort lasted only a moment as a pulsing wave of warmth radiated from it.
¡°Why are we wasting resources on him?¡± Said a new voice I instantly disliked. ¡°We should just stabilize him and continue with the mission.¡±
There was a tense silence.
¡°Aside from the fact that without his help, we would all likely be dead?¡± Asked the first voice in a tone that was deceptively calm.
The thing in my mouth pulsed again and suddenly pain blossomed in my head. I began to thrash.
¡°Keep him down and hold his head steady!¡± The second voice said, her voice more animated. ¡°He¡¯s recovering faster than I anticipated.¡±
¡°Look, yes, he helped us out, but he¡¯s sketchy as fuck,¡± the voice I didn¡¯t like said. ¡°You can all feel it. Look at his hands!¡±
¡°It was kind of neat how he grew claws,¡± another female voice said.
¡°Body transformations are not illegal,¡± replied the deep voice.
¡°That¡¯s not the point¡ª¡°
¡°You can file an official complaint later,¡± the first voice said. ¡°Your objection is noted.¡±
The thing in my mouth was pulled back long enough for me to gasp several breaths before it went right back in. It pulsed again, which washed away the majority of the pain. I slowly began to think again.
I discovered Roy straddling me, pinning my arms to the ground. Greg had his hands on my face, painfully holding my jaw open for the distressingly phallic object in my mouth. Beats was next to me, hands holding the device, her eyes closed in concentration. My vision was so crowded by the three that I couldn¡¯t see much else.
I patted Roy¡¯s thigh with my hand in the classic ¡°tap out¡± signal. I saw the eyes in his helm focus on my face. ¡°He¡¯s awake,¡± he rumbled.
Beats eyes shot open. ¡°Colm, look at me,¡± she ordered. ¡°You need to stay still while I do this. You¡¯re recovering remarkably fast so I¡¯ll only need to administer another dose or two, okay? I know this sucks.¡±
Was that a fucking joke? I blinked my eyes twice at her.
The next two pulses came, each time carrying away deep strata of pain and discomfort I didn¡¯t realize I was experiencing. She cast a spell over me, seemed satisfied with what she found, and slowly removed the device from my mouth. I was relieved to find I was mistaken about its phallic shape. It looked more like one of those medicinal caulking guns ranchers use to medicate herd animals, except instead of ending in a tube, it ended in a metal oval that reminded me of a Tesla coil. Greg let go of my head and stepped back.
I blinked tears from my eyes. ¡°What the fuck happened?¡± I asked.
¡°We were hoping you would shed some light on that,¡± Albright said as he entered my vision over Roy¡¯s shoulder.
¡°You started to convulse and bleed from your orifices,¡± Beats explained.
I grimaced and as subtly as I could, firmed my mental defenses. ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± I muttered. ¡°I¡ªthe last thing I remember was sitting down to rest my eyes for a bit. Then I had a pretty fucked up dream about¡ª¡° I paused as I decided to lace some truth in with my lies. ¡°About a space of infinite black.¡±
¡°Space?¡± Albright asked with a frown.
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¡°Not space,¡± I clarified. ¡°A¡ªvoid. Nothingness. I¡ª¡° I took a shaking breath. ¡°It was terrifying.¡±
Albright regarded me silently for a few moments before turning to Beats. ¡°How is he?¡±
¡°Probably in better shape than he was when we arrived,¡± Beats said. ¡°His body reacted very well to Echo of Creation.¡±
I glanced at Roy and mouthed ¡°Echo of Creation?¡± at him. He tilted his helmet back in a motion that I was sure was practiced because it allowed me to see him waggle his eyebrows at me. I tapped his thigh again and made it apparent I wanted up. He coughed sheepishly and got off me.
Albright turned back to me. ¡°Are you okay to continue?¡±
I nodded shakily as I sat up and touched my face, finding it wet with blood. Beats handed me a package of wet wipes. I began to clean myself, my stomach sinking when I noticed my shirt was practically soaked in blood around the collar. How much had I been bleeding? ¡°I, uh, just need a couple minutes.¡±
Albright nodded and placed a couple of canteens next to me before going over to where Kristy was still keeping watch on the tunnel. I saw her shoot me a concerned look, to which I returned a tired thumbs-up.
While I went about cleaning blood from my ears (which is something I hope I never have to do again), I lightly touched my fire ability that I haven¡¯t utilized since¡ Jeez, when was the last time I had a cigarette? Why wasn¡¯t I having a craving? I should be shaking with need right now.
I shelved that concern for later as I rolled the power around in my metaphorical hands, getting a feel for it again. During the final moments of my island adventure, when the ability had been strongest, it had felt like the comforting weight of power. I merely had to aim it and all the fire I could ever want would rush to appear in any amount I needed.
Now it felt much more¡ªmore real. Like the fire would behave like fire. The more I fed it, the more it would grow. The more it grew, the more I needed to feed it. What that meant in terms of actually using it remains to be seen.
And what did other me mean by combining my fire and magic? How? Can they even be combined? The copy of a being who claimed to be me from another dimension that ascended to a god-like state seemed to think so¡ªand Jesus was that a concept to wrap my head around.
¡°Here,¡± Beats said, interrupting my thoughts. She was holding out her hand. ¡°I¡¯ll burn them.¡±
It took a moment for me to realize what she was talking about. The blood-covered wipes. Right. Don¡¯t want to leave fresh blood lying around for someone to use against me.
¡°I¡ª¡° I paused to cough up a red wad of phlegm. Beats didn¡¯t bat an eye as I spat it to the side. ¡°Hold on, there¡¯s something I want to try.¡±
I dropped the dirty wipes onto the floor where the majority of my spilled blood lay. I focused on the rags, bringing up my fire¡ªand realizing it was my fire now. It was no longer an ability on loan from Trix. Whatever other-me had done, it had completely cemented the power into my being. With growing confidence, I pushed the power out and watched with delight as the wipes began to curl and blacken, before bursting into fire.
It was a strain. The fire was only a few feet away and yet I struggled to control it. Still experimenting, I stepped closer until my feet were mere inches away, the fire becoming stronger and easier to control almost geometrically as it got closer to my body. Interesting.
I whipped the fire back and forth over the blood (and bloody phlegm), making sure to char it all before cutting the fire off. Just that light use of the ability had my heart rate elevated, and I could feel a sheen of sweat forming on my recently cleaned skin.
¡°I thought you only had one spell,¡± Beats said, giving me a measuring look.
¡°Only one spell I can use safely,¡± I replied, meeting her eyes. ¡°And that wasn¡¯t a spell.¡±
Some or all of them already suspected me of holding things back. They likely suspected me of being a warlock. I¡¯m not even sure that being a warlock is explicitly illegal. I can assume it is, because the things that one needs to do to become a warlock are universally reprehensible¡ªeven if I found a loophole that makes the task more palatable to my conscience.
But they had just saved my life¡ªor at least, got me back to fighting fit¡ªand were helping me save Conner. I¡¯ll worry about whatever magical trial may or may not being awaiting me after my brother was safe (assuming they don¡¯t try to Judge Dredd my ass once I cross some invisible line).
I turned and found Walt making a ¡°see?!¡± gesture at Albright, who ignored him to study me with cool eyes. I met his gaze for a moment before stooping to pick up the canteens and began to drink, but choked out a spluttering laugh at Kristy¡¯s comment:
¡°This is awkward as fuck.¡±
I coughed for several seconds before turning my watery eyes towards the short goth. ¡°You¡¯re going to undo all of Beats'' hard work,¡± I said once I had calmed down.
Kristy wasn¡¯t looking at me anymore as she was keeping her eyes on the tunnel, but she shrugged in a ¡°what can ya do?¡± motion.
I turned back towards Albright and resumed drinking from the canteen in small sips. Though I felt much better, I also felt wrung out. Which made sense with how much I¡¯ve bled over the last several days. I have a feeling whatever is fueling the spread of black across my body is masking anything uncomfortable. It¡¯s the only thing I can think of for why I¡¯m not starving, craving a smoke or feeling weak from losing weight. Hell, I¡¯m not even that thirsty¡ªbut with every sip of water I feel a small relief.
¡°Roy, take the front until Greg has fully recovered,¡± Albright said without taking his eyes off me. ¡°We move out in two minutes.¡±
I watched as the shorter man approached me, regarding him over the canteen I was still sipping from. ¡°I¡¯m concerned,¡± he began when he was within arms reach, his voice low enough that if I didn¡¯t have enhanced hearing it¡¯d be difficult to hear him. ¡°I¡¯m concerned that you keep pulling new capabilities out of thin air. It makes my job more difficult, makes it harder to plan.¡±
I lowered the canteen with a nod. ¡°If it¡¯s any comfort,¡± I replied with the same reserved tone. ¡°I wasn¡¯t intending to deceive you when I forgot to mention my little fire ability. It had been all but useless in combat until recently.¡± I grimaced ruefully. ¡°Life-threatening situations tend to make me stretch my capabilities in new and unexpected directions.¡± I lifted my other hand and nodded toward it, by way of example.
¡°I¡¯m acting in good faith,¡± I continued after I dropped my hand. ¡°I¡¯m not holding back my abilities because I need to keep an ace up my sleeve in case I need to betray you all like a mustache-twirling villain. I¡¯m self-trained and self-educated on resources that are suspect at best and dangerous at worst. That means that I haven¡¯t pushed my abilities because I learned early on that can have unintended consequences. In your line of work, I can imagine you know what I¡¯m talking about.¡±
Albright conceded the point with a nod.
¡°I made an enemy of the Doorman,¡± I continued. ¡°I grabbed every tool I could to defend myself for the day he came for me. And even with eight years to prepare I barely survived. Hell, it was largely due to sheer dumb luck. I¡¯m telling you this so you have context for why I am the way I am and so that you¡¯ll have a frame of reference when I say I will do anything to save my brother.¡±
Albright¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Including sacrificing us?¡±
I didn¡¯t like the stress he put on the word ¡°sacrifice.¡± I had to assume the telepath knew or suspected the origins of my power. I debated many responses before giving a tired shrug. ¡°Hopefully, neither of us will find out.¡±
Albright was not pleased with my response.
Book 2, Chapter 43
The tension between Albright and I followed the group as we moved into the tunnel the thralls had attacked us from.
Pushing through an already cramped tunnel was made worse by the presence of the many bodies in it. My imagination supplied the image of a shoggoth barreling down the tight confines at us, making me shudder.
The crew were quiet as well. They were picking up on the vibe between me and Albright and were naturally withdrawing from me, the outsider. That was fine. While I was disappointed, I understood, and wouldn¡¯t hold it against them so long as it didn¡¯t interfere with rescuing Conner. Even the bubbly goth was avoiding my eyes.
¡°We¡¯ve been scanned,¡± Albright said, breaking the silence.
I turned to look behind me at Kristy inquisitively. Part of me was worried she would continue to ignore me, but professionalism won out. ¡°Means a psychic is trying to get into our heads passively,¡± she explained. ¡°The boss is blocking them.¡±
I thanked her and resumed the half-crouched march. I felt bad for Roy, who was not only taller than me but also significantly bigger, not to mention his armor. If I was feeling the squeeze, he must have felt like Andy Dufresne at the end of Shawshank.
We walked for five minutes with no change in the oppressive silence. I was about to attempt to engage Kristy in conversation again when Roy¡¯s deep voice rumbled back to us.
¡°Light ahead.¡±
Tension in the group began to rise as, after another minute of travel, we filed out of the cramped tunnel into a vestibule-like room that abutted a balcony. Large, stone doors stood to the left and right, each likely weighing over a thousand pounds if they weighed one. Roy and Walt each went and checked a door before they went to the balcony. Roy turned to Albright and waved him over.
¡°Whatever ritual they are doing is in that direction,¡± Kristy called out softly to Albright, who nodded in acknowledgment as he crossed the small room to stand next to Roy and Walt. I also went over to have a look, ignoring the glare Walt shot me.
The balcony revealed a massive cavern, with the walls lined with similar balconies to our own, as well as walkways that revealed a half dozen tunnels in my glance. A glance was all I spared for the walls, however, due to the huge ritual taking place on the cavern floor. Dozens of cultists wearing the familiar LARPing uniform of the assholes that had ambushed us in the food court knelt in concentric circles around a jagged, glowing ball that wasn¡¯t so much white as it was static like an old TV. Mostly obscured by the floating ball was a man holding out his hands to the side, like a benediction or waiting for an embrace.
As we watched, two cultists appeared from one of the side tunnels dragging a tired, beaten, and terrified woman. Her clothing was dirty and torn, her face swollen on the left side, but other than that I couldn¡¯t make out much due to the distance between us. They were a good six stories down, the light was harsh with strong shadows that interfered with picking up details.
The two cultists forced the woman to her knees in front of the cultist under the glowing ball. One cultist reached down and ripped the captives shirt at the collar, exposing her chest. A gauntleted hand clamped on my shoulder and tugged me back, and it was only then that I realized I had been about to jump down there. I don¡¯t know how I feel about being prevented from going to the aid of the woman, even knowing Roy had just likely saved my life. I suppressed a snarl and returned my attention to what was going on below.
Thankfully, that seemed to be the end of the assault. The cultists took up positions on either side of the woman, restraining her arms in such a way as to present her bare skin to the center cultist. The man under the glowing orb stepped forward, still holding his arms outstretched as if waiting for a hug. He held the pose for what felt like five minutes before all the cultists save for the three in the center suddenly knelt further, placing their foreheads on the floor between their splayed hands.
A sudden silence overcame the entire structure, a wave of it washing over me like a death shroud. In the sudden, deafening silence, the center cultist finally broke his pose to lift one hand in a languid arc, one finger pointing behind him at the glowing orb. A piece of staticky light broke from the orb and crossed the space to over a bare inch from what I¡¯m now calling the head cultist''s finger. With the same, no-rush motion, the head cultist slowly arced his hand up and over to touch the odd light to the chest of the captive, just under her right clavicle. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as a familiar symbol was burned into her flesh.
The head cultist held his position as the woman thrashed and silently screamed in agony. At last, the poor woman gave out and slumped in the grip of her captors. As if that was the signal, the circles of cultists rose to their previous positions as sound crept back into the room. The two cultists holding the now unconscious woman bowed to the head cultist before retreating the way they came. The head cultist watched them leave for a moment before his head tilted up toward us with the same languid energy, his eyes seeming to lock onto mine.
¡°Kill them,¡± he said quietly. Somehow, I had no trouble hearing him.
The rings of cultists broke into a mad dash for the nearest exits. Roy swore quietly while Albright started issuing orders. I barely noticed as I was watching the head cultist, who seemed to sag as the circles around him were broken. The glowing ball above him flickered. On a hunch, I checked the blood stick for my brother and got a much clearer signal. He was below me. Not at the bottom floor where the ritual had been held, but perhaps a floor above it.
¡°Hey!¡± Albright said, suddenly pulling me away from the balcony. ¡°Get with the program!¡±
¡°They have a spell that erases memory,¡± I said as I batted his hand aside. I pulled my Webley from its holster and checked to see if it had rested enough to risk a shot. Black veins were still on the cylinder and barrel, if much reduced since the last time I had looked at it. Iffy. I scowled and re-holstered it. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen them fight with any other magic besides summons. They mostly used automatic weapons.¡±
¡°Oh good,¡± Kristy said with her first smile since my little nap.
Albright glared at me but refocused on the problem at hand. ¡°That lines up with the reports from the other teams,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s also been reports that they have a suicide attack if they get close, something like a biochemical explosion.¡±
Oh right. I forgot about that.
¡°Should we back into the tunnel?¡± Beats suggested. ¡°I don¡¯t like the idea of fighting on two sides,¡± she said with a gesture at the doors.
¡°I like the idea of fighting in that tunnel even less,¡± Roy grumbled, to which Greg lent a taciturn nod.
I walked over to the door on the right, studying the hinge. It looked like it was taken from a bank vault. ¡°Well, the hinge is on this side. Maybe we can block it?¡±
I grabbed the recessed handle and gave an experimental pull, straining for a moment before the door moved a few inches with a groan of fatigued metal. I shoved it back closed. ¡°It¡¯s really heavy, it wouldn¡¯t take much to keep it shut.¡±
¡°I think I have something,¡± Albright said as he approached. I made way for him, glancing at Beats who had been still for the last minute, her eyes closed. I looked at Kristy and inclined my head at Beats, questioningly.
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She made a hand motion that I interpreted as ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I shrugged.
There was a sudden loud bang that made my head whip around. Right in front of the door I had just been standing next to was a four by four by four cube of what looked to be solid steel. Albright leaned over it, panting heavily, sweat covering his face.
¡°That,¡± he said between breaths. ¡°Was harder¡ªthan I thought it¡¯d be.¡±
¡°The time dilation?¡± Roy asked.
¡°Likely,¡± Albright replied as he visibly forced himself to straighten. ¡°Beats?¡±
¡°Sound acts weird here,¡± she said, eyes still closed. ¡°But I¡¯m hearing a lot of chanting on the next floor and a lot of running around pretty much everywhere else. I¡¯m not sure about the next room though.¡± She said, pointing to the door to the left.
Albright turned to Roy who nodded and crossed to the left door. ¡°Are you recovered enough?¡± Albright asked Greg.
Greg slowly nodded. ¡°Have to be,¡± he said with some difficulty, as if the words were unfamiliar.
Albright seemed to struggle with the decision before giving the big-chinned front liner a nod. Greg hefted his big machine gun in his right hand and his sword in his left and went to stand with Roy.
¡°Walt, stand by,¡± Albright said, his rifle suddenly appearing in his hands with a grunt. ¡°As soon as the fighting starts, I want you to get a look around the place while we have them distracted.¡±
¡°Got it,¡± he said, his hands running over his equipment one by one with a kind of ritualistic practice.
¡°Colm, stay back with the ladies,¡± Albright ordered. ¡°Only engage if the enemy gets past us.¡±
I shrugged. ¡°Sure.¡±
At some unseen signal, Roy heaved on the left door with apparent ease as Greg stepped in front of him, swinging his gun left and right to be followed by Roy.
¡°Got a message coming from command,¡± Kristy said suddenly as Albright followed Roy and Greg into the next room, swinging his rifle to check the corners.
¡°Yes?¡± Albright prompted without looking back. I frowned as I looked around. Where had Walt gone? For an asshole, he sure is competent at being a ninja, I begrudgingly acknowledged.
¡°The first word sounds like it might start with a B,¡± Kristy said, squinting into the air.
I frowned in confusion for a moment or two before I got it. ¡°The time dilation,¡± I muttered in realization. Everything outside the domain was slowed down compared to us.
¡°Surprised they can even get anything down here,¡± Beats said without opening her eyes. Kristy crossed over and took her hand, leading her toward the new room where Albright was waving us over.
I don¡¯t know what I expected the next room to be, but a mess hall wasn¡¯t it. Rows of tables and benches, all carved from the surrounding, dark stone, stretched to the back wall. The far wall was dominated by a surprisingly normal-looking buffet counter. I was able to spot a grill, a couple of ovens, and a microwave in the food prep area. The right wall was open to the center ritual room, similar to the vestibule we had just left.
¡°They¡¯re close,¡± Beats said, opening her eyes. ¡°We¡¯ve got maybe a minute.¡±
Six pairs of eyes swung to the opposite wall, where a much less impressive set of normal double doors rested. ¡°We¡¯ll hold there to force a choke,¡± Albright said, shortly followed by Roy and Greg taking up positions by the door. ¡°We¡¯ll fall back to the other room if we get overwhelmed.¡± The blonde telepath examined the tables between the two doors, his eyes going from the legs¡ªwhich seemed to have been grown right out of the floor¡ªto his two front liners. ¡°I wish we had some time to create cover¡ª¡°
Albright stuttered to a stop as a loud snap and crash rang out through the room. Five pairs of eyes turned toward me (and several guns), who had just finished pushing a table over onto its side, breaking its legs. ¡°Push it up against the doors? Force them to make a hole?¡± I suggested.
Albright nodded and came over to help me move the table, before shaking his head. ¡°The one closest to the door,¡± he instructed.
I nodded and hopped over the fallen table, repeating the effort of snapping the legs off the floor. It would probably be a lot harder if I wasn¡¯t weakening the legs with my magic, as the table was made from a very sturdy stone. I shoved the nearly six hundred-pound table against the doors with Greg and Roy¡¯s help, just as there was a loud thump from the other side that rattled the doors.
¡°Go,¡± Roy said as he braced against the table. ¡°Bring more. The longer we make them fight through the choke point, the better.¡±
I nodded gamely and went over to break more table legs. I was setting my legs on the next one when a crash forced my eyes up.
A large, pink and red arm had burst through the wall next to the door and had Roy¡¯s head in its grip. With startling violence, the arm shook Roy like a terrier worrying a rat before flinging the big knight across the room like he was a hacky sack. Beats screamed in alarm and rushed over to the fallen knight.
With a grimace of rage, Greg raised his giant sword with one hand and brought it down, severing the giant arm in one blow. A horrible cry of anguish resounded from the other side of the door. The next moment, the doors were perforated by a storm of bullets. I barely managed to erect a telekinetic wall in front of me to block the edge of the spray, dancing out of the way in what I¡¯m sure the others will remember as a dignified manner.
The bullets suddenly stopped coming through the door, though the gunfire didn¡¯t stop. A familiar bloom of magic from Kristy became evident as her magic ate the bullets that came our way.
¡°Sorry,¡± she said, looking my way with regret in her eyes. ¡°I should have been ready.¡±
¡°No¡ª¡° I glanced around to make sure no one had caught a bullet. ¡°No harm, no foul,¡± I continued. ¡°Let¡¯s kill these motherfuckers.¡±
Kristy grinned without mirth with a glance at Roy¡¯s unmoving form as she slung her backpack around into her hands. Once again a mouth formed on the back of the item and it released dozens of pink comets. The little not-bullets hovered in the air for a brief moment before zipping through the door, where the gunfire suddenly died off to be replaced by screams.
¡°Beats!¡± Albright yelled from his crouched position behind the first table I had tipped.
¡°He¡¯s alive! But he won¡¯t be fighting anytime soon!¡± She called back.
Albright swore. ¡°Colm! Go¡ª¡°
I felt something at the edge of my perception slam down, forcing a groan from Albright¡¯s mouth. He began to breathe heavily, the vein in his forehead standing out against the flushed skin of his face as he grit his teeth with effort.
¡°Oh fuck,¡± I muttered, realizing the spectacled blonde was probably shielding us from a mental attack. I crossed the room and knelt next to the straining telepath. ¡°How long can you hold out?¡±
¡°If it was just me,¡± he growled out through his clenched jaw. ¡°A good while. But shielding all of you? A few minutes.¡±
¡°Walt!¡± I yelled. ¡°If you¡¯re around, see if you can take out the telepath or we¡¯re all fucked!¡±
I squeezed Albright¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do to help,¡± I said as I stepped away.
¡°What,¡± he panted. ¡°You¡¯re suddenly a psychic now, as well?¡±
¡°Even better,¡± I waggled my eyebrows at him. ¡°I¡¯m paranoid.¡±
I honed my telekinesis into a fine point and began to draw and write as fast I was able, creating a small ward at my feet, etched into the stone floor.
Hanging out with Alice over the past year had really drilled in how dangerous telepaths were. And even if it wasn¡¯t for Alice¡¯s influence, I¡¯ve seen enough X-Men movies to know that if Xavier had slightly fewer morals, he¡¯d be running the Earth. So, along with helping me to improve my mental defense, she and I had collaborated (translated: she was my guinea pig) on a set of any-telepathy wards I was basing on my favorite attention wards.
Similar to how my normal attention wards made focusing on the area around them difficult, my brand new anti-telepathy wards basically flooded the area with background noise similar to a loud party, combined with the effect of someone shining a bright light in your eyes. Then, to top it all off, it did its best to direct attention elsewhere like a traditional attention ward.
Before I finished the ward I grabbed Albright¡¯s hand and dragged him over to the spell, focusing on the way his magic felt so I could key him to the ward. I didn¡¯t have time to do a thorough study so I eyeballed it, laying out the final symbols.
I felt Albright relax. ¡°Jesus,¡± he said, pulling his hand out of my grip. ¡°That¡¯s loud."
I shrugged. ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t know you well enough to key it to you yet."
He rubbed his head and sighed. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. I can deal with a bit of noise. What kind of ward is that?¡±
¡°Colm¡¯s Ward of Mind Your Business,¡± I said with a small smile. ¡°Still work shopping the name.¡±
Albright snorted, glancing at the ward. His expression shifted to one of surprise. ¡°You did this just now?¡±
A crash from the door made us whip our heads towards the action. I glanced at him. ¡°I told you outside, my main focus is wards and... something-graphy.¡±
¡°Thaumagraphy,¡± Albright supplied, retrieving his rifle from where he had dropped it. ¡°Kristy?¡±
¡°They stopped shooting, sir,¡± Kristy said, in a way that reminded me of a child saying the ice cream truck had run out of ice cream.
¡°I¡¯ll see if I can fix that,¡± he said. He began to move toward the double door but paused. He frowned in concentration before a large, belt-fed machine gun, similar to Greg¡¯s appeared in his hands, held awkwardly with his other rifle. He offered the bigger gun to me.
¡°I¡¯ve never actually used one of these before,¡± I said, taking it from him. It had a pleasing weight.
¡°The most complicated thing is loading it, and that¡¯s already taken care of,¡± he said. ¡°Roy said you¡¯re strong, so just control the recoil and spray through the door and see if you get our friends to donate something for Kristy to work with.¡±
I lifted the big gun with a smile. ¡°Sure,¡± I said as I stalked towards the doors. ¡°Always wanted to be Rambo for Halloween.¡±
Book 2, Chapter 44
There¡¯s something that caught me sideways in the last year. I started to really exercise and find the limits of my enhanced strength. Every kid has an idea of what they would do if they had super strength, right? I¡¯m not superhero strong, but I am stronger than peak humanity¡ so I guess I am? What I mean to say is: I can¡¯t lift a car above my head, but if you got me good and mad I might be able to rip your arms out of your sockets.
Because I read so many comics and, later in life, briefly got into video games¡ªI had an idea of what was possible with superior strength.
That idea was wrong.
See, Superman can lift a car and beat someone with it because the artist thinks of the car as one thing, one solid thing, when in reality it¡¯s thousands of pieces held together with nuts, bolts, screws, and welds. The first time I tried to lift a car, the bumper came off in my hands because it was a Volkswagen Beetle and the bumper was still attached more from luck than any fastener. The next attempt deformed the chassis and cut my hands on the metal, which resulted in a rushed visit to Urgent Care, which itself was even more of an anxiety-filled experience because of my weird hands.
Thus, hot tip: If you¡¯re trying to lift a car, grab the frame. It¡¯s the part of the car the owner''s manual tells you to place the jack when you get a flat tire. It¡¯s usually a little back from the side of the car making it an awkward grab, but it can be done. I never managed to lift a car, but the day I tipped one over by my lonesome sits on a high shelf in my memories, the shelf labeled ¡°Proud Moments.¡±
It was with all this in mind that I set to the task Albright gave me. I¡¯ve never fired a belt-fed machine gun. I know they have bipods usually. I had thought that was to control the recoil, and that may still be the case (as I haven¡¯t fired it yet and don¡¯t know what kind of recoil it has), but now I think it¡¯s because the gun is fucking heavy. It¡¯s over twenty pounds easily, and even if a portion of that is the ammo, I can¡¯t imagine being able to wield this easily before I made my adjustments to my body.
So, as I got within a few feet of the door, I set a wide stance, lowered my center of gravity, lifted the BFG to my shoulder, and prepared for the kick.
As I opened up the gun, I was mildly (and pleasantly) surprised by how little recoil there was. I walked the gun back and forth, just below head height, over the stone table we were using to brace the doors. As I held down the trigger and moved the big gun back and forth, I tensed, ready to dodge out of the way should there be return fire.
Just as I had the thought, a familiar spike burst through the door and slammed into the table we were using for cover, punching through it with just enough force to shatter the stone and tumble to a stop some feet behind me. Just then, my gun ran dry, so I dropped it and dove to the side as half a dozen foot-long spikes shot through the door.
¡°Demon!¡± I yelled.
I glanced at Kristy, who was looking at the spikes flying past with consternation. Okay, her sacrifice magic doesn¡¯t affect all projectiles, apparently. I craned my neck behind me to where Beats was working on Roy, but it didn¡¯t look like the big knight was getting up anytime soon.
I looked back at Greg, who had abandoned the doors for a moment to pull two spikes out of his hip and arm. Just as the big guy got the one out of his arm out, the doors burst apart as two, 8-foot-tall centaur-looking spiked tumors burst into the room. They paused as they were met with the high-caliber response from Albright and his Garand and a spray from Kristy¡¯s assault rifle.
Look, the demon truck had been gross and scary¡ªbut it had been in a shape I had seen before. You know; a truck. These things looked like what would come out of David Cronenberg¡¯s head if he had been asked to design a monster that was a mix of a knight, cancerous, fibrous growth, and bone spurs. The worst thing about them was that they looked so fleshy and moist, while also having bone everywhere.
While I gathered my magic into another spike like I had used against the shoggoth, I had a flash of irritation at my supposed danger sense. I was getting surprised an awful lot over the past few days, and only when things were incredibly outside the norm was when I got a warning. In fact, I had only had a handful of premonitions since I had started this supposed vacation. What the fuck was wrong with my vacations?
As the magic coalesced into a spike, I promised myself to examine my warlock abilities in more detail. Over the past year, I had been so focused on my magic that I hadn¡¯t spared attention for much else except improving my physique and recovery (and flirting with Ida over Facetime).
I shoved the distracting thoughts aside and launched the magic at the closest demon, who was in the process of lining up a shot at the small goth. The magic slammed into its side, right behind its first set of legs. The flesh parted easily at first, but I discovered through the rather regrettable tactile feedback of the magic that the flesh was lined with many layers of thin bones, almost a cross-hatch. The layers of bone did a frustratingly excellent job of bleeding power from the strike, and my magic only penetrated a little over half a foot. The blow made the demon stumble, and the mass of lumps that might be its head glanced at me with what I assumed to be rage from its energetic movements. Although it was hard to tell because I couldn¡¯t make out any eyes. Nevertheless, it ignored me to pursue Kristy, who was backing away as she swapped out a magazine.
On instinct I split the spike into four barbed points, causing a migraine to bloom in my head from the effort of forming the unfamiliar shape. I powered through the pain with a roar and shoved the barbed points deeper into the demon, managing another few inches for each point. My roar rose in pitch as I doubled down on my effort and yanked the magic back at me.
The side of the demon opened up and spilled viscera, reminiscent of a video I saw of a whale being disemboweled¡ªif you replaced the dead fish and intestines with cancerous growths and so, so many spiky bones. The demon staggered several feet toward its right, toward me, before crashing to the ground as its front legs collapsed.
It hadn¡¯t been ten seconds since the demons burst through the door, and I was already exhausted. What¡¯s more, the demon I targeted didn¡¯t seem particularly put out by having a huge, gaping hole in its midsection. It turned toward me and, though it was considerably more clumsy, dragged itself with its arms and hind legs toward me with alarming speed, slamming stone tables aside like they were made of balsa wood. One of the spikes on its shoulder suddenly lengthened and pointed at me.
That was all the warning I needed as I hurriedly shaped my magic. The pain in my head flared again, the pane of bulletproof magic slow to form. I raised my arms and pivoted at the spike fired. Through sheer luck, the spike glanced off the armored forearm piece of the mantle, deflecting it just enough for it to avoid impaling my arm¡ªinstead, it just took a swipe of skin off the inside of my bicep.
Okay Colm, think, I thought as I backed away from the angry cancer demon. Magic is no good right now, the Webley will explode in a mushroom cloud of hate if I use it again before it rests, and I might as well fight a pit of barbed wire if I get within melee distance with this thing. What do I do?!
I reached down and strained, wasting a precious second ripping a bench from the floor to pivot and slam it down on the mound of flesh I assumed was the demon''s head. The stone bench sank into the flesh with a thump but didn¡¯t shatter as I expected. Also against expectations, the blow that would kill a moose didn¡¯t bother it much. It swiped the bench aside, its return swipe I barely avoided by leaning back and dashing away.
I felt my silent passenger (gotta change the way I think of that prick) twitch and I was reminded of his final words from the dream. Combine my fire with my magic? Hell, I hadn¡¯t even used the fire aside to clean up some blood.
Fuck it, let''s give it a try.
I summoned a plume of flame in front of me, which was draining even with it only being a few feet away. The upside was the sudden appearance of fire gave the demon pause. Then I summoned my magic in the fire¡ª
And nearly collapsed from the feedback of having my fire forcibly snuffed out. I was incredibly lucky that the side effect of shoving of bunch of telekinetic magic into a big plume of magic flame was a blast of dry heat that knocked the demon onto its back and scorched it. The downside was that having my fire snuffed out while I was creating it felt like pulling a muscle in my mind, and I barely remained conscious through the discomfort. It wasn¡¯t painful, exactly, but it kind of felt like someone had just jabbed my brain with a finger. The other, probably equally bad downside, was the same flash of heat slammed into me and sent me flying back
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I tried to get my feet under me, but they got tangled up in each other and I fell, barely slowing my fall with my elbow before my cheek smacked into the floor and scraped for a few inches before my momentum bled off.
Fucking¡ ow.
I was probably missing my eyebrows. My exposed skin, which was mostly my face and hands, felt scalded. The discomfort on my face was amplified by the scrape across the floor I¡¯d gotten. I tried to get my hands under me, but I was still under whatever weird effect I was experiencing from snuffing out my own fire, and they didn¡¯t want to do what I told them. I managed to roll onto my back and push myself away from the demon with my feet, the stone floor biting into my shoulders, ass, and hips as I scooched away. The demon flopped over onto its belly again, and though it was visibly feeling its wounds, it still seemed determined to make me regret being born.
That¡¯s when thirty crows made out of slimy darkness descended on it and began to tear strips of flesh off the demon. A high, tea kettle-like scream came from each of the crows as they devoured the flesh. After a few seconds, each crow that ate the flesh of the demon became stronger and bigger.
I looked past the murder to see Kristy staring at the demon, holding one of her Hot Topic tchotchkes forward like a crucifix. It was some little anime character I didn¡¯t recognize, dressed in black with hair like crow feathers. Black flames licked up the item around Kristy¡¯s hand as she focused on the demon, which was attempting to swipe the crows out of the air in futility. Several spikes shot out, one narrowly missing me by less than a foot, but no crows were hit.
¡°Help Greg,¡± Kristy said through her teeth, not taking her eyes off the demon.
I nodded loosely and spent a precious few seconds getting my shit together. I focused on my body and with a little of the knowledge I stole from other-me (no, I¡¯m not calling him that either), smoothed out some of the internal damage to my head and body to the point where my equilibrium came back in stages.
I shakily got to my feet, using a nearby table to leverage myself up. I stood, taking several shuddering breaths before raising my eyes and taking in the rest of the room.
Greg was fighting the demon with his big-ass sword, driving the weapon into the creature with huge, chopping slashes that failed to sink more than a few inches into the thing. Several wounds covered Greg, but you wouldn¡¯t be able to tell from the way he fought.
Albright was being pressured by a group of cultists, who must have followed in after the demons. They charged him with clubs and knives, and he fought them with a surprisingly flashy kind of gun-fu as he dodged and parried them with a couple of Glocks he must have pulled from his interspacial warehouse. Every parry and dodge was punctuated with a burst of gunfire from either handgun, lighting up a cultist¡ who weren¡¯t staying down. After taking the bullets, the cultists would fall momentarily only to stand and rejoin the fight.
I needed to help, but I was coming to understand that even if I wasn¡¯t feeling the majority of the damage my body had taken over the past week, it was still piling up. I had taken bigger hits than this (some earlier today) and had been less shaken than I was now. Whatever was suppressing my hunger, my nicotine addiction, and whatever else was likely suppressing the weakness and pain I was supposed to be feeling.
Magical healing is miraculous, but it doesn¡¯t create something from nothing. Most healing spells took what was available and rearranged it, usually the body''s own reserves. And I had been magically healed¡ three times? Four? How the fuck am I still standing?
¡°Colm!¡± Kristy said through gritted teeth. Shit, I had been standing and staring into space for several seconds. I nodded shakily and started walking toward Greg.
...But what the fuck could I do?
I still had my old spells to rely on, but I really didn¡¯t want to use them with whatever trauma my brain had just dealt with. I didn¡¯t want to bake it on top of whatever damage my experiment with fire had done. I could bring out my tentacles, but I was reasonably sure that¡¯d just make Albright kill me.
Stubbornly, as I stalked across the room, I began another attempt to combine my magic and my fire. This time, with a teeny, tiny bit of fire and magic so maybe I won¡¯t brain myself again. Maybe it was the sequence that was wrong? I started with the magic first, creating a tiny telekinetic cloud. Then I brought up my fire into¡ª
It was like walking into a screen door¡ª but for my brain. I stumbled and barely managed not to fall by catching myself on a bench. Maybe I didn¡¯t need to help, maybe Greg has everything¡ª
I watched as Greg was sent flying from a powerful front kick from the demon, sailing and smashing into Albright.
"Okay¡" I said with a sigh.
I grumbled under my breath and tried once again to combine my magic with my fire. I started with the smallest portion of each, threading them together simultaneously¡ª
My brain twitched and the magic failed as soon as they came into contact.
¡°What the fuck!¡± I hissed.
Greg was back on his feet the moment his momentum bled out, charging back toward the demon. He cut down a few of the cultists who had closed in on him and Albright as he passed. Albright was slower getting to his feet, favoring his right side. His glasses were missing.
One of the cultists took advantage of the weaker Albright and rushed his right side. I barely managed to gather enough magic to shove the cultist off course, my brain feeling it was on fire from the effort. Albright took advantage of the off-balance cultist and circled around him, emptying the mag of his Glock into the crowd of cultists. Only two fell, but it bought him enough time to roll across a table and get some space.
A pair of the cultists spotted me bumbling around and came at me with clubs. I brought my hands up into a boxer¡¯s stance, not trusting myself not to fall over with something looser.
I needn¡¯t have bothered. While the cultists were armed, they were pretty normal strength-wise. I dipped one attack by the one on the right and a quick jab to his sternum shattered his rib cage, while the other went down with a broken cheek from a backhand, without a chance to attack. I overcompensated with the blow, expecting more resistance and nearly fell on top of the guy. As I steadied myself, I noticed they were beginning to rise again. A few kicks to the ribs delayed them and I began to move toward Greg again.
This poor fucking guy, I thought, looking at the big-chinned front liner. He was covered in wounds, his left arm hanging by a few tendons from the elbow. He was giving ground to the demon, unable to retrieve his sword which was impaled quite deep into its shoulder.
And I still didn¡¯t know how to help him!
Afraid I was about to liquefy my brain, I tried a different track with my magic and fire. Maybe, maybe they need to be combined before they manifest? At the base. With this in mind, I slowed down the process of summoning my telekinesis, to the preparatory steps that I could now literally do in my sleep (my nightmares result in holes in the wall¡ªit¡¯s a huge pain in the ass). At the same time, I grabbed the source of my fire¡ªwhich caused me a mental stumble as it wasn¡¯t where I was used to. The part of me that I normally reach for was now just a hollow, slightly sore portion of my mind. The fire now resided somewhere deeper. Now that I realized that, I could see why the fire was so tiring now. It was burning¡ me, for lack of a better word, for fuel.
Not my life force or anything. Just, whatever energy one has that allows them to get through the day. There was a purely physical, real portion of it, the reactions the body induces to food and glucose to produce energy and heat. But also that more, esoteric energy that gets used up by concentrating. I drew a little bit of that, via the fire, and before allowing it to manifest, braided it with the budding energies of the telekinesis spell.
...Okay, no backlash. I let out a tense breath and continued, keenly aware that no matter how well Greg could heal, there was probably an upper limit of damage he could take. Gently, then with more confidence, I pushed the magic and fire out and created and pushed the twinned energies in a shape telekinesis has an easy time holding: a ball.
A ball about the size of a grapefruit appeared in front of me, shedding light into the dark room with its dark orange fire. I shoved more energy into it, making it denser, before shooting it forward into the side of the demon.
It burned a hole clean through it.
The feedback from the fire and magic was also weird as fuck. The tactile feedback from the telekinesis spell when used by itself was similar to feeling something through a thick glove, except from a part of yourself that doesn¡¯t have skin and isn¡¯t a part of you. It takes a long time to get used to. Before, when I burned the bandages, the only feedback I got from the fire was a brief relief of effort from fuel being added to the fire.
The feedback from the combined abilities felt amazing. It felt like a Christmas dinner while popping bubble wrap cocooned in the satisfaction of a particularly good dump. Okay, maybe not that last bit. It¡ kind of defies description. One thing I knew was I wanted to do it again, and that told me how dangerous this combined power was.
But whatever, I got demons to kill.
The demon arched its back, and spun towards me, ignoring the pulverized and lacerated Greg. Greg collapsed to one knee, which I felt was understandable. Take five, bud.
Before the demon could fully orient on me, I took my new pyrokinesis and expanded it, making it lose some of its density. It became a thick cloud about the size of my torso. I noticed there was no strain from the fire, even with it being over a dozen feet away. Seems the asshole in my head was right.
Before the demon had crossed more than five feet toward me I dropped the fire onto its head.
It didn¡¯t like that.
The demon began thrashing immediately, reaching up and trying to pat the flames away. But it was like trying to pat napalm. Instead of smothering the flames, now its gross hands were being consumed. I applied some more pressure to the ability and there was a series of hisses and pops as the monster''s head superheated, water vapor escaping in bursts.
I shaped the effect into a blade. It wasn¡¯t much of a blade, because anything thinner than a Halloween store rubber knife made my head pound, but it still was enough to carve through the demon with disturbing ease.
And it just felt so good. Almost sexual.
After the demon was in several pieces on the ground, I sent the little six-inch blade through the room, dicing up the remaining cultists into flaming chunks, and helped Kristy carve up the rest of the demon she was tormenting. When it finally stopped moving he fell to her knees, her little anime figure turning to dust in her hand.
That¡¯s when three shoggoths burst into the room.
Book 2, Chapter 45
Fucking hell, Conner, I thought as I dove under a table, narrowly being missed by a wickedly barbed tentacle. Why couldn¡¯t you have been kidnapped by a drug cartel or something?
I tried to get my kinetic fire going again, but the shoggoth wasn¡¯t giving me time to concentrate. I crawled under the benches and tables, the shoggoth hot on my heels, tearing through the thick stone furniture and kicking up clouds of dust. I couldn¡¯t see what the other two were doing.
¡°Beats!¡± Albright shouted from somewhere.
I crawled out from a table and found myself in the far corner of the room, near the kitchen but not close enough to matter. The shoggoth was nearly on me, and I had a split second to figure out what the fuck I was going to do to it. I couldn¡¯t afford to fuck up my kinetic fire, so I tried to make my claws grow¡ª
The air became chaos as Beats rose from her work on Roy, holding up a thin sheet of metal that was hooked to her fingers. As I watched it vibrated violently, distorting the air in a wave, cascading in a bloom toward the shoggoth that was about to render me into chunks. The wave enveloped the shoggoth and¡ª
Boy, did it not like that.
Whatever that wave was, it hammered the shoggoth with violent waves of pressure, hammering it away from me. Any part of the monster that stuck out was violently sanded off, like it had been fed into an open-air wood chipper. The attack was weirdly silent, but I could still feel it in my chest like the reverberation of concert speakers.
The attack gave me enough room to begin to create my kinetic fire again. I fucked up once, feeling a twinge in my brain, but quickly restarted and brought forth a thin line of my new fire ability. I thickened and lengthened it and sent the magic to wreak havoc on the shoggoth.
Sadly, the shoggoth was made of sterner stuff than the demons were, so it didn¡¯t instantly get carved up like a hot wire through Styrofoam. Even still, the line of fire dug its way into the shoggoth¡¯s flesh, the monster¡¯s thrashing making my work easier as it hurt itself against the fiery rope. I tried not to focus on how lovely it felt to burn the thing.
Beats saw I had this one in hand and redirected her attack across the room. With her other hand, she pulled out a metal tube, covered in what looked like ancient Greek script, with a slightly flared end. She held the tube in front of her other hand, which resulted in her attack being concentrated into a line. It shot across the room, pulverizing the stone furniture in its way and crashing into one of the two shoggoths Greg was barely keeping at bay. A large portion of the thing''s mass liquified and splashed onto the ground, while the rest of the energy of the attack hit it with enough force to push it into the other monster.
Albright grunted with effort, and another one of those big-ass metal cubes that he had summoned in the other room appeared¡ªabove the shoggoths. I don¡¯t know how many pounds of metal fell on them, but it was enough to cut one clean in half, like it had been caught in an industrial press. Greg soon went to work on the survivor.
As Beats cut off her magic, she collapsed in a pile on the ground, barely keeping her eyes open. I was mildly disgusted with myself that I had been unconsciously drawing out the fight with my shoggoth so I could keep feeling the effect of my fire. With a savage twist of my will, I tightened the coils of fiery rope and within the next few moments, shoggoth cutlets were smoking on the ground.
I glanced over at Albright, who was bleeding from a scalp wound, his right arm hanging limp. Greg looked¡ Like a ground beef sculpture someone had slapped a breastplate on. Kristy didn¡¯t look injured, but she looked just as wiped as Beats.
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Where the fuck is Walt?
I jogged back through the stone tables, most of which were destroyed by this point, and scooped up Albright¡¯s Garand. ¡°Does your infinite ammo thing work if you¡¯re not holding the gun?¡± I asked him as I approached.
He looked at me uncomprehendingly for a few seconds before shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯s something I actively do.¡±
I swore softly and checked the gun, trying to see how much ammo was in it without unloading it. I was vaguely familiar with the gun because it was famous, being a mainstay of the US military during the Second World War, but I hadn¡¯t operated one personally.
Albright grunted and a bandoleer appeared and fell to the ground with a clatter. I examined it and found it to contain a couple dozen loaded clips for the Garand. I nodded my thanks, grabbed the ammo, and looped it over my head and shoulder. With a quick glance around us, I ran toward the double doors and took the spot Greg had been holding, glancing through.
I didn¡¯t see any more monsters, thankfully. The next room looked like a vestibule you might see in an office, except everything was stone. The only light came from the open balcony on the right, similar to the room I was in, and the walls were interrupted by several more double doors. Across the way, I could see some movement through the slightly opened doorway, which was likely where all our new and recently (and no longer) alive friends had come.
I glanced back as a scuff alerted me to Greg¡¯s approach. His big sword was sheathed across his back. A lot of skin was missing from the left side of his face, the bloody bone of his jaw exposed to the air. A strip of his scalp was also missing. He was holding his left arm together with his right hand, mashing the almost severed forearm into the stump. He had several puckered holes in his arms, hips, and legs, with his right leg missing several strips of flesh up and down it.
¡°You look rough, bud,¡± I said in a low voice as I turned back toward the other room.
¡°Feel it,¡± Greg muttered. He plopped down next to me, heavily falling into a seated position. He leaned back against the wall, his sword scraping awkwardly against the stone. I could see the strap that held the scabbard was loose, probably kept intentionally so, for just this occasion.
Heavy footfalls came from the other side of the room, and I was relieved to see Roy back on his feet. He was shaky, taking his time, but every step was taken with more confidence as he crossed the room. His helmet was gone, and I was surprised to find a Denzel Washington look-alike under the knight helm. The dude was handsome as fuck. He gave me a small nod as he took up position next to the doorway.
...The same position he had when he had been injured.
¡°Glad to see you back on your feet,¡± I said, then stepped away from the door. ¡°Why don¡¯t you take my spot?¡±
Roy¡¯s eyes slowly turned to regard the hole in the wall the demon had made when it had grabbed his head, then turned back to me. He nodded once and took my spot. ¡°I need to chat with Albright,¡± I murmured, receiving a firm nod from Roy and a tired one from Greg.
Kristy was doing her best to dress Albright up as a mummy, wrapping layers of gauze around the telepath. I walked up and stood in a way that I could see him and the double doorway at the same time.
¡°Where¡¯s Walt?¡± I asked without preamble.
Albright regarded me tiredly. ¡°Locating the cynosure,¡± Albright said.
I frowned. ¡°It¡¯s not the big static light down there?¡± I gestured toward the balcony. As I said it, I knew the answer. I suspected I knew what it was.
Albright saw my expression change, likely guessing at my thoughts. He tilted his head at me, making Kristy hiss at him in displeasure (she was trying to tie off the gauze on his head). ¡°No. ¡®Cynosure¡¯ is a bit of a misnomer. It¡¯s often not at the center of the domain.¡±
I swore softly.
¡°Once he finds it, he has the tools necessary to disrupt it,¡± Albright continued. ¡°Which is when I¡¯ll call a retreat.¡±
I wanted to protest but stopped myself. Aside from myself (which is debatable) and possibly Roy, we were all walking the ragged edge of exhaustion. If the cultists had anything more to throw at us¡ªwhich they likely did¡ªwe weren¡¯t in much shape to fight back. The best call would be to escape, regroup, and push in with a bigger force.
I checked my brother''s location again. He was so close!
I nodded slowly. ¡°Then I¡¯m going to get my brother.¡±
Ignoring Albright¡¯s protests and Kristy¡¯s shout, I walked over to the balcony. As I walked, I slung the Garand over my shoulder and focused on my hands, trying to recapture the feeling of need I had had when the hand had grabbed me. I felt something in my stomach shift, like a muscle twitch, but across my entire torso, and my hands changed. From one moment to the next, my fingers grew slightly longer and claws extended out.
¡°I¡¯ll try to be quick,¡± I said over my shoulder as I placed a hand on the balcony ledge and hopped over.
Book 2, Chapter 46
The first thought that ran through my mind after my little stunt was: Please don¡¯t fuck this up and die in the stupidest fucking way possible.
As my feet were passing over the stone railing of the balcony, I focused on my hands. From one moment to the next, painful claws formed. They weren¡¯t as good as the claws I used on the ship, but they dug into the stone well enough to slow my forward momentum. The hand I had placed on the railing dug its claws into the stone, adding a curve to my drop. With a grunt of effort, I ripped my army boots off my feet with telekinesis, allowing the claws I had grown on my toes to grip the rock and slow my descent further.
From seeing the way the room was laid out from above, I had assumed there was another balcony below I could fall into. There was, but it wasn¡¯t as close as I had assumed. Also, being inside the chamber really hammered in just how fucking large this complex is. Standing up on a relatively safe balcony and looking down, I hadn¡¯t given much thought to the height. Now there was nothing but my claws keeping me from falling to a messy death, I realized I had severely underestimated how fucking high I am, and how big this chamber is. How the fuck did I hear that cultist from way up here?
I fell for over a dozen feet, my claws scraping through the rock with a horrid screeching sound. I can handle nails on a chalkboard, but the physical sense of my claws tearing through stone was a much worse sensation and it was all I could do not to recoil and doom myself to falling to my death. Luckily I didn¡¯t need to fall too much further, as my legs were suddenly kicking empty air.
I had kept one of my hands free for just this occasion. As my speed kicked up a bit without the resistance my feet were giving me, I reached out with my left hand as I fell, my right tearing loose from the stone wall that was suddenly no longer there. I had an instant to see the edge of the balcony rail and clapped my hand on it with as much force as I could, sinking my claws into the surface for good measure. The momentum from the fall turned my hand into a fulcrum and slammed my chest into the wall, but I had been expecting that. I tensed my core muscles as my chest hit the wall, getting a mild bruise but not getting my wind punched out of me.
The next two seconds were a mad scramble as I dug into the wall with all four limbs, carrying me over the lip of the balcony into the room beyond. Gasping for breath, I looked up¡ªand saw a sea of cultists.
Luckily, seeing a man scramble over the wall like an uncoordinated squirrel wasn¡¯t something they were ready to process so I had a moment to act before they did. I glanced up, saw that none of the magiSWAT crew were coming after me, and breathed a sigh of relief.
¡°Finally,¡± I muttered, straightening from my crouch and rolling my shoulders. ¡°I can let my hair down.¡±
I gripped the weird, otherworldly powers I hadn¡¯t touched in a year and ripped the lid off them. Six tentacles shot out of my back along the sides of my spine, the top two coming out of my shoulder blades instead of my shoulders thankfully¡ªI didn¡¯t want to know what it felt like to grow a tentacle into the metal plating of my Mantle. The tentacles arced around me and speared the six nearest cultists through the throats, which I then used their combined weight to drag me into the midst of them.
I suppose I should be worried about how willing I am to fully indulge in these powers. Back on the boat, every time I used them it was through a thick current of existential terror about what it means for me as a person to use power that was demonstrably changing me. If I was confronted by Ida or Alice about it, I¡¯d probably argue that it¡¯s necessary because the fate of our entire reality is on the line, plus the life of my brother. And while those things are both true¡ªespecially, particularly the part about Conner¡ªif I was being honest with myself¡ I¡¯m just tired of worrying.
For the past decade, I¡¯ve been a mess of fear. Hell, most of my life. Afraid of my father. Afraid of the Doorman. Afraid of warlock pirates (which I still struggle with the idea of sometimes. I mean, seriously.). Afraid of being outed as a warlock. Afraid of what being a warlock is turning me into. Afraid of what influence my silent passenger has over me. And finally, afraid for Conner.
While I can¡¯t do much about that last bit until I get Conner out of here, I¡¯m at the point where I¡¯m just¡ just going to toss the bones and see where they lie. I¡¯m just so fucking tired of the anxiety.
There¡¯s a part of me that¡¯s been holding me back. That part that asks ¡°What will this do to me?¡± It¡¯s the part that wonders if my friends will recognize me in a few years if I pursue certain paths. If my brother will want anything to do with me. That part of me is talking right now, telling me Conner¡¯d be horrified if he saw what I was doing to these cultists, what I¡¯ve done to myself.
But my friends and family need to be alive to be horrified by me. I need to be alive to hypothetically horrify them.
So, I¡¯m taking that little voice out behind the shed and shooting it. Not in the head; I might need it again someday if my life ever¡ªhowever unlikely¡ªcalms down. Nope, just a couple of bullets in the knees to keep the fucker out of my hair. It¡¯s time to stop being afraid.
¡°It¡¯s time for you fuckers to be afraid of m??????e?????????,¡± I said, the double-harmonic quality my voice had briefly taken when confronting my father coming out in force. Several cultists recoiled away from me.
I was amongst them now. Most were armed with knives and clubs, but a good chunk of them had handguns and a few submachine guns. They did more harm to their fellow cultists than to me. Any time I noticed one with a gun I set a tentacle up and over, sometimes stretching several dozen feet to impale the man or woman. I tried to grab the gun on the way back but failed more often than not, as I couldn¡¯t see past the press of bodies.
¡°Colm!¡± Albright''s voice punched into my head, feeling like he was shouting from a foot away. I flinched and was nearly brained by a table leg. I dipped out of the way and dragged my claws down the man''s chest, opening his lungs to the domain air in a way they weren¡¯t supposed to.
¡°Christ Albright!¡± I said, pulling in all my tentacles and whipping them around me in a fan pattern, flaying a ring of cultists around me. I scooped up a couple of pistols and began firing into the crowd. ¡°You almost got me killed!¡±
¡°Hang on,¡± he said, effort in his voice. ¡°We¡¯ll be down in¡ª¡°
¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I said, surprised at how vicious I sounded. One pistol ran dry and the other jammed. I threw them with enough force that a couple of cultists went down. ¡°Keep your people safe.¡±
¡°If half of what Beats is telling me is true¡ª¡° Albright began.
Ah, Beats must be using her sound magic to communicate down here. I growled, splitting my tentacles at the tips and sending them forward like a gross spear phalanx, punching through several rows of cultists. Again I yanked myself forward into them and laid about with my claws.
¡°Albright, you¡¯re all half dead and exhausted,¡± I said with a wince as a club collided with my hip. The woman holding it soon lost a good portion of her head as I ripped my claws across her face. ¡°And judging by what we saw outside, all of you will be needed to help the victims out of here.¡±
I stabbed two tentacles into the ceiling and pulled myself up as four cultists with automatic weapons opened up on where I had been a moment before. Using my claws and tentacles, I scuttled across the ceiling like a deep sea creature before launching myself at them from above. The first died from having my shoulder slam into his neck, the second from my fingers impaling his heart. The last two were impaled by two tentacles each and were hurled into the crowd racing up behind me, staggering them.
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¡°You can¡¯t rescue your brother if you¡¯re dead¡ª¡°
¡°You¡¯ll slow me down, Albright!¡± I snarled, interrupting him again. ¡°You were right! I was holding back! And I can¡¯t do what I need to do with you guys around. So sit fucking tight, recover, and wait for me to open the door out of here.¡±
I waited for a reply, but it never came. I heard the sound of distant gunfire. Sounds like they have their own problems.
With the cultists in the room thinned, I could finally get a look at it. The room looked like a staging area or parade ground¡ except underground, which you wouldn¡¯t think would make a huge difference, but boy does this place feel weird. I could see markings on the floor, delineating space according to some organization I didn¡¯t recognize. As I was forced to move deeper into the room to keep bodies between me and the cultists with guns, I came to realize that the focus of the room was further back.
Was this a staging area? I could see the room was segmented into delineated areas, spread out in a fan with a raised platform near the back. Because of the adjustments I¡¯ve made to my eyes and how huge the room is (plus the cultists trying to shoot/brain me), I couldn¡¯t make out anything more about the platform.
I leaned down and whipped my tentacles around in a propeller-like motion, trying to keep them at eye height and extending them at the same time. I was rewarded with more than a dozen voices crying out in surprise and pain as strips of flesh were rent from faces, necks, and chests. It also tangled my tentacles together in a clumsy braid, which I made use of by slamming my claws into the ground to hold my position as I whipped the mass of other-worldly flesh in the direction of the latest round of gunfire. The tentacles¡ªnow as thick as my thigh¡ªslammed into a line of cultists, crushing heads, shoulders, and arms. I wrenched the tentacles apart, spinning them amongst the enemy like a vindictive weed whacker.
I dove into the midst of more cultists, avoiding a hail of gunfire.
It went on like that for a while. I don¡¯t know how many of them I killed. All I know is that after ripping a dude''s head off with my bare hands, there was no one left to fight. I was breathing heavily, my body shaking from exhaustion and pain. I whipped my head back and forth, looking for more threats, but aside from the occasional groaning figure on the ground, I was alone amidst a sea of bloody bodies. I was also covered in blood¡ªsome of it mine. I had several shallow bullet wounds that were leaking clear fluid that didn¡¯t smell like blood. One on my shoulder, two on my right forearm, one on the back of my left arm, and two on my left thigh.
I inhaled deeply, calming myself for a few seconds before I examined the bullets in my right arm. The flesh around the hole was raised kind of like a pimple¡ which is gross. I¡¯ve been shot before, and this hadn¡¯t happened then. Then again, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve been shot in my new, fancy-prancy eldritch black skin before. My skin started to change when I wore the Limbs of the Other Side for an extended period of time, and the Limbs are much tougher than regular skin. Plus, the doc said the black skin was reshaping the cells to be stronger.
I didn¡¯t like the idea of bullets being in me, so I took two of my tentacles and thinned out their tips so they were needle-like, split them so they could grab¡ and sent them questing for bullets.
It hurt. But not as much as I thought it would. And after getting the first two bullets out of my arm, I was good enough at feeling around I could get the rest of the bullets out of me. All in all, it took about ten minutes, at which time I could see improvement in the bullet wounds on my right arm. I allowed myself a touch of optimism. I can do this.
The optimism lasted for all of three seconds, long enough to take a step towards the raised platform at the end of the room. That¡¯s when my leg gave out under me and I collapsed on top of a corpse that was missing an arm.
I snarled and tried to rise, but my shaking limbs were slow to obey and it took amazing effort to rise to my knees.
¡°God damn it,¡± I hissed. ¡°What the fuck is going on!¡±
Even as I said it, I knew what was happening. Whatever was going on with me that was hiding my body''s needs was also hiding how tired I was. I guessed that now that I wasn¡¯t riding the wave of adrenaline that comes with fighting nearly a hundred cultists, I was close to passing out from exhaustion. But, like, what¡¯s new? I¡¯ve been near total exhaustion for the past three days. Come on, body, get up!
I tried to rise to my feet but stumbled, barely catching myself on my hands and knees. ¡°Fuck it,¡± I said. My tentacles don¡¯t work like the rest of my body. As I had done on the island, I used my tentacles to lift myself off the ground like some fucked up spider and scuttled over to the platform.
As I approached the platform and the fuzzy shapes became more distinct in my nearsightedness, I sighed. I had hoped to find the cynosure, but the only thing here was an alter to the Distiller.
On the platform was a six-foot carving of what looked like a stylized condenser. A tight, spiraling tube with a single carved drop of some liquid coming out of the end of it. I raised a shaking hand to rub my face, stopping at the last moment as I remembered my hands were covered in blood.
¡°He¡¯s not actually a distiller, you morons,¡± I muttered.
¡°I¡¯m aware.¡±
I spun. Or, I tried to. Using my tentacles isn¡¯t as instinctive as the limbs I was born with, so I just kinda twitch, then flopped, then deliberately turned to face the newcomer who was standing to my right. I recognized him. He was the main asshole at the bottom of the big chamber. He opened his mouth to speak, which is right where I sent one of my tentacles.
Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t feel the parting of flesh when my tentacle pierced the man in front of me. I felt a vague tingling, which told me this was a pretty sophisticated sending or illusion. Since I still had Albright''s amulet on, I was betting on the latter.
¡°I have been watching you,¡± the head cultist said, the tentacle in his mouth not interfering with his speech. I retracted it after trying to disrupt the illusion with no success. ¡°And I am hoping you¡¯d answer a question for me?¡±
I was about to tell him to eat a bag of hot dicks when a sigh tore through me, almost without my knowledge. Even through whatever filter that was on my discomfort, I could feel the exhaustion in my body like a subtle weight on my thoughts. I gingerly set myself on the edge of the platform, allowing myself a moment to rest. ¡°Shoot,¡± I said.
¡°How is it you know of the Distiller?¡± The illusion asked.
¡°Second-hand knowledge,¡± I said. ¡°I was studying something else and learned about it.¡±
¡°How uselessly vague,¡± the illusion said with mild irritation.
¡°Don¡¯t know what you expected,¡± I replied. ¡°We aren¡¯t friends. If I see the real you, I¡¯m going to rip your spine out and beat your followers with it.¡±
¡°You aren¡¯t an Elysium agent,¡± the illusion said; a statement.
¡°Did the Hawaiian shirt give it away?¡± I looked down and saw my loaner shirt wasn¡¯t recognizable as Hawaiian anymore. It just looked bloody and tattered. ¡°Oh.¡±
The illusion went silent, regarding me with a look of strong dislike.
¡°Not going how you imagined?¡± I asked. ¡°Talking up the enemy is what happens on TV. The only thing you accomplished is letting me know you¡¯re watching me¡¡± I trailed off as I began to direct a tentacle to carve a ward into the ground.
¡°What are you doing?¡± The illusion said. He was trying to sound confident, but I could sense the trepidation behind his words.
¡°Unlike you assholes, I know more than two spells,¡± I said, adding a second tentacle as I grew more confident in my motions. I glanced at the illusion. ¡°Okay, you probably know three with that little projection. I¡¯ll grant you that.¡±
¡°He¡¯s doing something. Send them,¡± the illusion said to the side. I could tell he wasn¡¯t talking to me anymore. ¡°I don¡¯t care if they¡¯re ready! Send them! And cut the spell!¡±
Right before I finished the ward the illusion cut off. ¡°Dammit,¡± I said with a sigh. The ward I had been about to finish was an anti-scrying ward that would give anyone scrying this location a big headache, induced by creating feedback with the spell. Eh, they might still be watching. I finished the ward.
As soon as I did so, the earpieces I had forgotten about screeched with massive feedback and I pulled them out of my ears with jerky motions. Oh shit! Were Beats and crew listening in on me? Oh, that makes sense. Oh god, I hope they didn¡¯t provide visual data too. That¡¯d be an awkward conversation. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m a warlock. But I promise I¡¯m a good one!¡±
I frowned at the earpieces in my hand, tempted to throw them away. Instead, I put them in my left hip pocket (my right had been destroyed at some point). I then started the grim task of looking through the bodies, hoping one of them had a bottle of water. I wasn¡¯t feeling thirsty, but I knew I should be. I was hoping with some water and maybe a Snickers or something, I¡¯d be able to mitigate some of this exhaustion I was/wasn¡¯t feeling.
I didn¡¯t find any water, but I did find a few chalky protein bars that I wolfed down despite feeling like I was eating slightly soft bricks. Any thought about eating the food of people I had recently killed was shoved aside and ignored as viciously as possible. I can have a mental breakdown when Conner is safe.
I heard a banging from the side of the room. I managed to stand without the help of my tentacles, rising just in time to see the double doors leading to another room crash open. The next moment, the biggest demon I had seen yet squeezed through the door, reminding me of those videos on YouTube showing how a rat can fit through any space its head could.
As soon as I had that thought, I amended it: It was more like an octopus. It had tentacles, but not like mine. Where mine are smooth, hard, black, and thin; this things were rough, and craggy, similar to an octopus if the octopus was also made of jagged crystal. As it forced more of its bulk through the doorway, I saw many eyes, each placed between where the many tentacles joined the body.
I sighed tiredly.
Book 2, Chapter 47
The next thing I knew I was panting heavily and covered in blood.
I was standing atop what I assumed to be the big demon octopus''s corpse, with several more corpses I don¡¯t remember in much finer cultist robes splayed out around me. With growing horror I noticed my hands and arms were longer, the bones more prominent. Each knuckle on my hand had curved barbs coming out of them, and my fingers were thin and long. I caught sight of one of my tentacles in the corner of my vision and recoiled at it. It was shaped like razor wire.
My mantle was hanging off my left shoulder by two straps. My clothes were shredded. Luckily there was enough of my underwear so I wasn¡¯t completely naked, but the lack of clothing really hammered in how far my condition had spread. There was now less of my normal skin than the black. Where my neck had been free of the stuff, it was now surrounded and¡ªI assumed¡ªabout to make its way up into my head.
Which is where my third shock came from. I was able to examine my neck so closely because I had two, small tentacles coming out of my traps, each ending in a black eye.
My breathing picked up as panic set in. What the fuck is happening? What am I? I gotta¡ª
Before I could let the panic get full hold of me, I noticed one of the cultists. I hadn¡¯t noticed it at the time, but this guy was wearing a subtly different uniform than his¡ colleagues? The same difference I now noticed from my memories of the shootout at the mall.
Did one of these fuckers erase my memories again?
I reached up and gently took the amulet Albright had given me, holding it between two alien fingers. It was still working, but I saw that it was slightly charred and warped. I took a shuddering breath as I realized how dangerous losing your memories in the middle of a fight could be. I made a mental note to thank Albright for the amulet.
I tried to get off the octopus, which is when all the pain I somehow hadn¡¯t noticed came roaring back and I stumbled. I fell down the large body in a bouncing cascade that felt like the aftermath of a car crash. Using my two new tentacles, I got another look at my body, specifically, my back.
Large swaths of black skin had been shredded all up and down my back. I was missing two tentacles, all that was left of them were two stubby nubs wiggling futilely. The destruction went all the way down to the backs of my thighs and my left calf.
Not bothering trying to figure out that happened, I used my tentacles to lift myself off the ground as gently as I could. I still had four (six if you count the two new eyestalks), and after some initial stumbling that came from having to compensate for the two missing tentacles that still felt there (phantom tentacle syndrome?), I got moving after a bit.
I was in a dark room with one exit, which looked like a storage room. It was big, about the size of a snow lodge, filled with shelves and boxes. Judging from the destruction, I guess I must have been on the run and gotten backed into a corner. Crossing to the doorway added more evidence to my theory, as I found a couple dozen demon and cultist corpses.
I suddenly shook my head, realizing that I had almost fallen asleep on my feet (tentacles?). I was so exhausted. I needed food for my body¡¯s improved recovery to do anything. Hell, with how much of my body''s needs have been hidden, I could be dying right now without knowing.
I started opening up boxes. After the fifth one, I abandoned normalcy and started to slash open the sides of them for expediency. Many boxes were full of the robes the cultists wore. Some others were packed with bedding, undies, and plain white T-shirts. One box was packed with cash. Hundreds of five-dollar bank straps. I think this was around forty or fifty grand. I was tempted to pocket a few, but realized I didn¡¯t have any pockets left.
Another bolt of panic shot through me when I remembered the blood stick. I couldn¡¯t find it. I abandoned my search for food for a frenzied ten minutes until, panting and sweating and newly sore, found it under the main bulk of the big octopus demon. Thankfully it didn¡¯t seem to be broken, but the connection was weird when I snatched it up. I could tell my brother was nearby, but the signal was¡ fuzzier, for lack of a better word.
By that point I was so tired I could barely move, so I just found a spot with minimal blood on the ground, lay on my least hurt side, and stretched my tentacles to shred box after box. It took me breaking nearly everybody within 25 feet, covering the ground in shredded cardboard and various supplies to knee height until I struck gold with a box full of MREs. Thank you, random cultist, who thought to buy prepper food.
They were all mostly crap(aside from the pizza MRE. But if Bagel Bites are any indicator of anything, is that it''s hard to fuck up pizza.), but I ate with a fervor only the truly hungry can display. I was about a third of the way through the 3x2 box of freeze-dried food and various crackers (about half the MREs I broke open had some cracker variety or a ¡°bread¡± that was basically a cracker with delusions of grandeur) when I ran into a real problem: I needed water.
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Many of the MREs are meant to be re-hydrated, but when I started eating I finally was able to feel just how hungry I was and skipped the middle man and just ate the chalky brick/powder that was supposed to be food. I understood my problem when I began to choke: I had been incredibly active for many days, not eating enough, bleeding, and¡ªapparently¡ªalso not drinking enough.
I used my tentacles to bring myself to another section of boxes and began to slash them as I ate the items in the MREs with some liquid content¡ªwhich was mostly ketchup, mustard, and jams.
I had to drag myself deeper into the room twice more, as none of the boxes contained anything liquid. Not even fucking soap! A delirious thought kept rising up, about how the Mongols used to open up a vein on their horses to drink their blood so they could keep on the move with minimal food. Each time the thought came up I shoved it back down, trying to convince myself I was not desperate enough to try that tactic with the corpses around me.
Finally, a box hissed and splashed when I slashed it. Soda! Warm, gross, off-brand soda. I really hope that old wives'' tale about soda dehydrating you was horseshit because I was out of options. I began to guzzle soda, but after dislodging a bunch in my haste I found a case of LaCroix and began to pound them.
I felt my blood begin to move more freely in my body after my third one (which was concerning¡ªbut what¡¯s new, eh?), and as I began eating again, I felt the various open wounds on my body begin to itch as they scabbed over the next half hour. During that half hour, I also ate until I felt I was going to pop, then hanged in the air like a horrific marionette, suspended by my tentacles as any normal resting position felt like torture.
¡°You still live.¡±
The illusion was back. I was so exhausted its sudden appearance didn¡¯t startle me. The illusion sounded less like a frustrated villain; more like a disappointed uncle. I didn¡¯t bother responding.
¡°You are not Elysium,¡± the illusion said, gesturing at my tentacles. ¡°Why do you aid them?¡±
¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll tell you exactly why I came so you can have more ammo to manipulate me,¡± I said tiredly. ¡°Got eat a dick.¡±
¡°However you hid your nature until now, they will find out,¡± the illusion continued. ¡°They will kill you. So, why are you helping them?¡±
¡°Lemme turn that question back at you, bud,¡± I said instead of answering. ¡°Why worship a guy who basically wants to turn everything into carbon and hydrogen atoms? If he gets what he wants, you won¡¯t have a cult. You won¡¯t have anything.¡±
¡°You obviously don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± the illusion said with a huff. ¡°The Distiller will¡ª¡°
I turned it out once it became clear I was in for a proselytizing session and began to subtly carve the anti-scrying ward into the floor behind me with one of my tentacles, watching my work with one of my new eyestalks. I had to work slowly because I was working from a weird position, but also had to deal with doubled vision from looking at something my normal eyes weren¡¯t looking at. It was like those videos I¡¯ve seen of people in VR helmets that get too close to their wall, and the helmet gave them a video of their real surroundings overlaid on the game they were playing. Only, you know, more intense. How was my brain processing this? Did I grow a new imaging center in my brain? Did I have new neural pathways to my shoulders for the visual information?
Luckily, my disinterest in the illusions preaching only seemed to egg it on more, especially when I rolled my eyes. What I picked up through half-listening was the guy behind the illusion expected to be turned into something that didn¡¯t need a body and would roam the cosmos as a purely spiritual entity. Also, if I understand the subtext, weird mind sex with his female cult members.
Finishing the ward was hilarious. As soon as the last line was set, the man screamed as his illusion fragmented as if it was being attacked by a thousand pizza cutters.
¡°Get fucked you piece of shit,¡± I muttered as the illusion abruptly ended.
By my count, the magi-SWAT boys (and lady) and I had killed more than a hundred cultists and several demons. They had to be running low on manpower, right? I gripped the blood stick and focused on Conner¡¯s location, spider-walking with my tentacles in his direction. I made a bindle of MREs and what was left of the LaCroix before I left, eating or drinking whenever I noticed I was no longer full to bursting. I still couldn¡¯t rely on my body to tell me if I was hungry or not, but I could tell when I was full. I was using that instead of being hungry to make sure I was packed with food.
God, my ass itched. The skin on my back and the back of my legs had been sheared off, but my left cheek and a little of my right had gotten the worst of it, probably because they stuck out more. I stretched an eyestalk (it was taking surprisingly little effort not to freak out about my new transformation, which was concerning) behind me to look over my wounds, which led to the ambivalent discovery that the scabs were flaking off parts of my body to reveal black, craggy scar tissue.
Some experimental flexing found that the pain had gone down by quite a bit, and mobility was on the rise. I still spider-walked and continued to cram food and drink down my throat whenever I stopped feeling bloated, but I was both relieved and concerned at my rapid recovery. The alterations I had made to my body were supposed to take place over days¡ not hours.
Over the next twenty minutes, I navigated various halls and rooms, finding some rooms mostly empty while others with clear signs of being lived in. Luckily, either anyone left was fleeing before I arrived or they were otherwise indisposed because I didn¡¯t run into a single person or demon.
Finally, I found a locked room. Examining the door, I noted that it was heavy, with two heavy handles that saw frequent use. Focusing on the stick, it said Conner was beyond the doors.
I lowered myself to the ground, setting aside my bindle and stick. I set my stance and gripped the handles, my not quite fully healed back flaring with pain as I strained with all my enhanced strength against the doors. The metal groaned and budged a quarter inch. I slammed my tentacles into the wall and floor for extra leverage and renewed my efforts. The metal groaned some more before something gave and the doors burst open, knocking me painfully on my ass. A wave of stink, comprised of feces, urine, and unwashed bodies flooded out of the room.
I had found the prisoners.
Book 2, Chapter 48
I stood in front of the open door, the filth of cruelty and despair wafting past me as I wrestled with paralytic doubt. I lifted one hand and looked at the appendage that would be at home in a Hollywood horror flick. Or perhaps a horror anime would be more apropos. The thought of my brother seeing me like this was more frightening than losing my memories.
I don¡¯t know what I went through to bring about these changes, but danger always made me reach for more. The first time I had used these powers, nearly nine years ago, it had taken me months to figure out how to put the tentacles away¡ but I¡¯m a different man now.
At first, I had assumed my blackening skin was a result of overexposure to the Limbs of the Other Side. Now I had a different theory. I still think the LotOS contributed, but now I¡¯m thinking they were just accelerating a process that had begun the second I had accepted these powers. If that were true, the skin, transformations¡ªmaybe even the lack of bodily sensations such as hunger and pain¡ªwere part of the same power, or magic, or eldritch hoo-doo that my tentacles came from. That being the case, I should have control over it like I do my tentacles.
I focused, tracing the various powers within myself, starting at my tentacles as I was most familiar with them. Even when I had been a part of the coven in college, I had never really done any magic myself. I mostly checked the others'' work and shrugged, because none of us knew what we were doing. I consider that circle I had done in a panic to keep the Doorman at bay the first spell I had ever truly done on my own.
The flood of information and power that entered me when I had made the deal with the Orphan had been strangely muted in my memories, as if something had put a firewall between them and my mind. Now, examining them for the first time in¡ hell, this might be my first time actually confronting those memories. I¡¯ve spoken about them, and thought about them with Alice¡¯s help¡ but I¡¯ve never actually taken the time to sack up and LOOK at them. I always handled the memories like a hot pan after I¡¯d been burned one too many times.
Now I knew what I had actually gotten from the Orphan, however. I hadn¡¯t just gotten some knowledge and a few shadowy tools. I had gotten a sliver of some unbelievably powerful version of myself from a higher reality. A sliver that had the knowledge of thousands, maybe millions of years of magic craft.
I used the mental discipline Alice had spent the last year teaching me to examine those memories again. I let the trauma hit me. I let it batter me around. I let it in and ravaged what little calm and poise I still had. I noticed with a detached interest that I had begun to weep. I acknowledged the fact and set it aside. There was something in that moment with the Orphan that was hiding something from me, and I felt that I¡¯d never truly have agency over these weird powers until I knew what it was.
So, I mentally walked through the layers of sadness, self-recrimination, sorrow, fear, anger, and whatever negative emotion until I got to that moment where the Orphan conducted our trade¡ and for the first time, I finally understood what had happened.
The human mind is surprisingly resilient. There are some people out there who have undergone so much hardship, that I am constantly amazed they aren¡¯t in a catatonic state. But no matter how strong your mind is¡ªand I have never held mine in particularly high regard¡ªa twenty-year-old mind being crammed with millions of years of knowledge would not survive.
Apparently, the Orphan realized what was happening instantly. It saw my mind shatter, and must have thought that wasn¡¯t part of the deal because it quickly reached out and took the shattered pieces of my mind and placed it back together¡ or at least that¡¯s what I assumed was happening in my memories. Obviously, the memories around the obliteration of my ability to reason and recall aren¡¯t reliable, and I have a feeling the only reason I could remember any of this is because the Orphan wanted me to. A new wave of mental anguish flooded me, realizing that my mind had been an instant away from death.
The Orphan deals in fairness. If you aren¡¯t able to get value from its trade, it will do its utmost to rectify. And that¡¯s what it did. It remade my mind, let just enough knowledge from the sliver to leak through to give me the tools to survive if I had the mettle, and then sealed the sliver away in my mind. But to make sure I¡¯d one day have the option to fully receive the benefit of the trade, it crafted the seal with a flaw. A leak.
Was this why I had been such a wreck? Why I cut myself off from everyone and everything? Not only did I have to deal with losing my only friends, but I, in effect, died. After being stuffed with enough knowledge to make what my life experience up to that point be insignificant¡
I shook my head violently. I could sort through the emotional ramifications of this later. I now had the clue I needed. Whenever I¡¯m in danger, must instinctively reach for more power, more otherworldly knowledge to give myself more of an edge. I didn¡¯t notice it on the boat because I had been wearing the LotOS pretty much constantly, and by the time I did notice it was too late to change course. Now the changes are progressing, and with each brush with death the changes get more pronounced.
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The leak must be getting worse.
I took a deep breath, ignoring the stench as I centered myself. I took hold of the technique I used to manipulate my tentacles and started to apply it to the rest of my body. It didn¡¯t work, but I hadn¡¯t expected it to. My tentacles were additions, something spawned from who knows where, while my body was something being altered. I kept searching, my mind feeling like I was reaching into an unfamiliar bag trying to find an item I only had vague knowledge of. I got the impression my silent passenger was watching with mild interest; like when a toddler starts to draw better than expected.
I used the failed experience to broaden my search, my technique. I didn¡¯t let my growing frustration or impatience influence my methodology. I kept at it, a strange detachment from my surroundings overcoming me. I had the feeling that time was and was not passing around me as I worked.
Then I felt my hands shift.
THERE!
I focused on what I had stumbled on, and suddenly the knowledge was just there. Everything that was happening to my body. The reason why I had stopped feeling hunger, my black skin, the change in my hands¡ all here. I couldn¡¯t make sense of it. I could sense a logic behind everything, but that logic was so foreign to human thought that I felt a sort of mental hemorrhage the more I tried to make sense of it. I shoved aside my desire for sense and just accepted the knowledge for now, coming away with an instinctual competence that I couldn¡¯t explain. Like how to make your ears wiggle.
When I opened my eyes, my hands were back to the way they were when I had entered this place. I had a new layer of sweat covering me, I felt bloated and nauseous from all the food I had crammed into myself, and most of all I felt like I was about to collapse.
Maybe turning off the thing that was keeping all my discomfort at bay was a bad idea.
Still, with knowledge came power. Not just power in the sense of might, but the power to solve the problems I had been facing. With another thought, the tentacles on my back shimmered and faded out of sight. Most of my skin was still ink-black, but at least I didn¡¯t look like a monster from a shitty anime. I just look like a guy with a nearly complete full-body tattoo and some big ass nails.
Before I could hesitate further, I stepped into the prison.
I was taking my third step when the smell grew unbearable. I began to dry heave, barely keeping my food down. I had to retreat outside and drop my bindle to the ground, breathing deeply the ¡°fresh¡± air with my hands on my knees to get my stomach under control. I had heard somewhere that forcing yourself to smile when you¡¯re feeling pukie helps, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to do it with all the human misery behind me. Instead, I undid my bindle. I had made it from a big T-shirt I had found in one of the boxes, and now I pulled it over my head and down until the collar was resting on my nose. The collar was elastic and small enough I didn¡¯t need to further adjust it, I just bunched the rest of the shirt on my shoulders and around my neck and I had a shitty mask.
It was already helping. The musty smell of the T-shirt soon replaced the smell of waste. I debated soaking the shirt in a can of LaCroix for another layer of anti-smell, but I didn¡¯t want to have to fight for air through soaked cloth. Before I could delay further, I growled and went back through the doors.
I had called the room a prison before, but that was... very wrong. A ¡°prison¡± brings to mind certain ideas and imagery. Even the shittiest prisons in the world allowed a person room to stand. Calling this place a concentration camp was closer to the mark, but still didn¡¯t fully convey just how horrible these people were being treated.
I remember seeing a fast food documentary while I was in college, where they were showing where chicken nuggets come from. The horrible conditions in which the chickens were kept, in rows and rows, so tightly packed together that they were literally shitting on each other, and that shit would fall off and hit the ones below in a waterfall of filth. Most of the chickens would never see sunlight.
It was much the same here. Cages just tall enough for a man my height to sit if he hunched, and long enough that I could lay down if I curled into a ball, stacked three high. The floors of the cages were the same material as the walls, a thick wire mesh. As I examined the closest person, I noted idly that he was dead, and that his body was covered in sores from not being able to move. The next person I examined was alive, barely. She was so thin I could count her ribs and see her heartbeat in her throat, her sides covered in sores like the first. Hers, however, were weeping a pink puss on the corpse below her. The person above her was much the same, but the angle was such that I couldn¡¯t tell if they were alive.
I realized I had stopped moving. The smell was making it through the shirt, but it wasn¡¯t affecting me like it had before. Helpless rage was boiling up through my stomach into my chest. I wanted to get these people out of the cages, to start helping them toward the exit, where hopefully the Elysium squad was still holding out. But mostly I wanted to find those responsible and rrrrrend them with my claws.
The sudden violent impulse startled me out of my rage. My mind shook, cascading back and forth like a pinball before I recognized the source; by accepting the knowledge of the sliver, I had internalized some of it. And that version of me, that millions of years old off-brand Cthulhu¡ I get the impression he isn¡¯t the nicest person.
¡°Fuck a duck,¡± I muttered, resuming my walk through the misery.
I couldn¡¯t help these people. I was here to get one person, the only family I felt I owed anything to. The blood stick told me he was ahead¡ªand now that I was focusing on it, the signal was much better. Had my transformation deadened the signal? The thought shot a bolt through me. The implication was frightening.
I shook the thought away. I needed to save Conner. In coming to save Conner, I had already helped these people in the best way I could. The authorities knew about this base now. We had decimated their forces. It was only a matter of time before help would arrive.
Hating myself for my justifications, I pressed onward.
Book 2, Chapter 49
I had been walking through the cages for about two minutes when one of the prisoners shifted and made me jump. It wasn¡¯t until right then that I realized I had lost my Webley and I spent an agonizingly long time debating whether I should go back and search for it. I should be able to find it pretty easily because I was reasonably sure it liked me and wanted to be found, but I had used it so much today that I don¡¯t know if it¡¯d even be helpful. Resigning myself to the possibility I might lose it depending on how the rest of this terrible day went, I continued.
While I walked I took off the Mantle. The enchantment on it doesn¡¯t work unless it has full contact with my body, and with most of the fasteners and straps broken, I didn¡¯t bother to try and fix it. Now that I had mostly corrected what was happening to my body, I was aware of just how heavy the fucking thing was and sighed with relief when it crashed to the ground.
The sudden noise created a cascade of terrified whimpers and cries around me, which prompted a fresh wave of anger. I¡¯m going to kill every single one of those Distiller fucks.
I quickened my pace, choosing turns mostly at random. There didn¡¯t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the layout, and it was so dark even my improved vision couldn¡¯t see the walls or ceiling. Now I realized why most of the people here weren¡¯t reacting to me unless I made noise: they simply couldn¡¯t see me. It was another layer of torture that made me so angry my stomach and fists hurt from clenching. The only thing that let me know my sense of direction was my connection to Conner via the bloodstick.
Suddenly the smell got¡ªnot worse, but more. It took me a second to figure out what I was smelling because it was competing with the smell of my breath in the t-shirt and the shirt itself. Another few yards and it clicked: blood. Tons of fresh blood. Another few steps and my bare feet found a tacky slickness I knew would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life, right along the blood-slick steps of the pyramid from the island.
But the further I went, the more I realized the pyramid had nothing against what was happening here. As I increased my pace, my feet began to splash in the liquid that could only be blood, despite what I wanted to believe. I began running, almost stumbling several times on the slick ground, crashing into cages that I now noted were empty. I used a little bit of my new ability to extend the claws on my toes, giving myself needed grip.
I came upon two large doors, wide enough to drive a van through. The blood was coming from beneath, at a pace that shouldn¡¯t be possible. How many people had they taken?! I felt my heart fall into the pit of my stomach when I realized Conner was very close now, past these doors. I ran up and shoved them, but they wouldn¡¯t budge.
I snarled and dug my toe claws into the ground, set my shoulder on the right door, and shoved with all my might. At first, I feared I wasn¡¯t strong enough to open it, my mind already shooting to spells I could carve on it to destroy it¡ªbut it started to move. Slowly. After it moved a quarter of an inch, blood began to move through the breach. The more I pushed the easier it became, along with more blood. I suddenly had a vision of being carried away in a tide of blood.
Fortunately, reality wasn¡¯t that bad¡ªbut it was still a nightmare. After making about a foot of space, blood up to my shins poured between the doors and cascaded past me. I took a step forward, reset my claws, and shoved it wider.
Beyond the doors was a landing at the foot of a set of stairs, blood cascading down the steps like a water feature in front of a fucking casino. Beyond the steps was a vast, well-lit chamber. I had to squeeze my eyes against the sudden brightness. If they had set an ambush at these doors, I doubt I could have reacted fast enough to do anything about it, danger-sense or no.
When my eyes adjusted I could see a room like an indoor coliseum. Great columns carved from the very walls surrounded the space. As I waded through the blood and began to climb up the stairs, more of the room came into focus. The thing providing light to the room reminded me of the orb in the big chamber when we had first entered, except I could feel its significance to the space around me. I¡¯d bet my left nut that¡¯d be the cynosure. Could they be connected? They looked similar, except this one was bigger and more real feeling. Like it was the reason this space existed.
I got a full view of the room at the top of the stairs. The center of the room was taken up by a giant ritual circle, with about a hundred cultists muttering a chant in a language I didn¡¯t recognize. They were spaced about twenty feet apart. In the center of the circle, directly under the glowing, staticky orb, was the man I recognized from the illusions. He was pinning another, nearly nude man to the floor with one arm and before I could shout in protest, drove a dagger into his heart. The move was smooth, practiced; like he¡¯d been doing it all day.
As soon as the dagger sank to the hilt, he pulled it out and quickly stepped away. Instead of going still, the man with the new hole in his heart began to rise in the air. Blood poured from him as he began to twist and convulse. The contortions became erratic and fast, his skin bruising before my eyes. Soon, the bruises became dark, his skin changed and his body was no longer recognizable as human. In mere moments, a new shoggoth was born. The leader gestured to the left. The shoggoth gave the impression of bowing before moving off to the side, where over a dozen demons and other shoggoths (shoggi? Shoggoth?) stood waiting. A glance to the right showed more.
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I studied the circle the cultists were in. It was something I hadn¡¯t seen before, but the longer I looked at it the more it began to make sense. It was an ongoing ritual, a combination of summoning and transformation magic if I were to guess. My inspection was interrupted as a wail tore through the room, dragging my attention away from the circle.
Behind the leader, huddled together in a scared pile, was a sobbing mass of humanity. Dozens of malnourished and battered people. As I watched, the leader walked over, grabbed the nearest one to him, and dragged the young woman to the center of the ritual. That¡¯s when he noticed me.
¡°Ah,¡± he said. I could tell what he said more from the shape of his mouth than by any noise he made. The people behind him were loud. ¡°You look¡ much improved since our last conversation.¡±
He said it in a way a teacher would say ¡°You¡¯re on time¡± when they were hoping you¡¯d be late so they could punish you. I ignored him and swept my eyes over the prisoners behind him, the blood stick guiding me¡ªthere.
Conner.
He was alive. He was alive!
Of course, the blood stick was telling me he was alive, but it was one thing to trust a magic doodad and another to see it with my own two eyes. He looked¡
Horrible.
He had lesions up and down his sides. His eyes were sunken and bruised, his skin clung tight to his skeleton. His hair was patchy, as was his beard, suggesting his body lacked the nutrition to grow fucking hair. How the fuck was he still alive?
My eyes locked onto the leader. I don¡¯t know what he sensed or saw in my expression, because he stopped saying whatever bullshit had been spewing from his mouth.
Anger filled me. Rage like I had never felt in my life rose from my throat and filled my mouth with hate. If I had any presence of mind, I would have been slightly embarrassed that my first impulse was to roar.
***
Interlude: Conner
Conner waited for his turn to die or be turned into a monster. He¡¯d been distracting himself from his many pains by figuring out the ratio of deaths to monsters. So far, it took about twenty deaths to create one of the weird shifty monsters, and about thirty to make one of the spiky centaurs. A part of him wondered if anything of the people survived inside the monster, or if it was just another form of death. He hoped it was the latter.
He desperately wanted to sleep. Being locked in a cage for months, with only a single can of soup a.. day? He guessed? He had stopped counting time in minutes and hours during what he assumed to be his first month of capture. Stuck in a lightless room, the only way to tell time was from the infrequent visits of his captors as they brought someone new in or to remove one of his peers. That, and mealtime.
He was sure it was once a day. The pure cruelty of his captors¡ªhe couldn¡¯t imagine them doing anything but the bare minimum to keep their stock alive. And that¡¯s what they were: livestock. A resource to be used.
The thought brought him back to the present, and to the approaching figure of the man Conner thought of as ¡°Jim.¡± He was the leader here; that was apparent. Even with Conner seeing the man for the first time this very day, he could be nothing but. As he approached, Conner wondered if his turn had finally come¡ only to be relieved and disappointed both when Jim grabbed someone else.
Then he paused. He began speaking. This didn¡¯t sound like the terse orders he sparingly gave. This was new. Conner barely had the strength to stay awake, but he forced his tired body to move himself into a better position. A neighbor''s thigh was used to brace his shoulder, and using that as a lever, he lifted his head to see what had gotten Jim¡¯s attention.
A¡ homeless man. With a T-shirt over his face. And¡ªmostly black skin. But black like ink. Like he was almost done with a full-body tattoo. His hair was lanky and mostly plastered to his skull by some kind of fluid. At first, Conner thought the man was nude save for the t-shirt and underwear, but he saw that he had some form of pants still on him. It was reduced to the waistband and scraps of the left leg, giving the impression to Conner that he had been in a severe accident and that was the only clothing he had left. Why was he wearing a shirt over his face?
The smell, Conner realized. He had been in it so long he could no longer smell it. He often feared if¡ªby some miracle he lived through this¡ªhe¡¯d never smell again. God, just to smell a lemon again¡
Then the man met Conner¡¯s eyes. There was recognition there. What? How? Who? The next instant, the man was staring down Jim. Suddenly, the man didn¡¯t look homeless anymore. He looked more dangerous than the monsters crowding the sides of the room. The air seemed to distort around him as if the universe was being drawn into him. Jim stuttered to a halt, his speech suddenly without wind as the man across the room went absolutely batshit and let loose the most terrifying roar Conner had ever heard. There was no way a human throat could produce that sound¡ªthose sounds! Multiple voices were layered together, plus other sounds that no one would or could categorize as human.
Conner was frozen in fear, but Jim wasn¡¯t. The cultist shouted a command in a language Conner didn¡¯t recognize and suddenly the monsters were charging forward with frightening speed. Conner found himself rooting for the strange man, if only for the fact that he was clearly opposed to something that was happening here. He had no hope that the man would survive the rush of monsters, despite his weird roar¡ª
In the space between one thought and another, a mass of writhing appendages Conner could only recognize as tentacles burst from the man''s back and struck down half a dozen of the leading monsters.
¡°What the fuck,¡± Conner rasped, his first words in over a month.
Book 2, Chapter 50
Interlude: Conner
How the fuck is he still alive? Conner thought with awe.
The man¡ªwas he a man?¡ªwas fighting nearly thirty monsters and wasn¡¯t dying. More to the point, he was holding his own. He seemed to know what the monsters would do before they would, ducking this way or jumping aside, using one as a springboard, or lashing out behind him with a whip made of fire that seemed to materialize out of thin air. When the monsters couldn¡¯t get through the tentacles, they sacrificed themselves to pin him down, which is when the man grew claws and began to tear them apart with his bare hands.
It looked like the man would be able to take them all on until the moment he slipped on the blood-slick ground, costing him a precious second of coordination. In that moment where he spent a split second to catch his balance, the knobbed fist of a centaur monster collided with his side and shoved him into the waiting arms of the monster that hurt his eyes to look at.
The man recovered, using his tentacles to lift himself in the air and get some distance. But he was hurting now and on the back foot. Several of his tentacles had been damaged or severed, and the fire whip was being used less and less.
Conner let the familiar feeling of despair encase his heart once more. If things continue on this trend, the man¡ wait. What? What the¡ª
Conner couldn¡¯t believe what he was seeing. While fighting a horde of monsters, the man was creating marks on the ground that looked similar to the marks of the circle the cultists were¡ praying in? Now that he was paying attention, Conner could tell the man was leading the monsters around the circle, and the fighting would get fierce when the man paused to score the ground with his feet or a spare tentacle. Conner glanced over at Jim and was horrified to find the head cultist hadn¡¯t stopped in his sacrifices. The woman he had grabbed before now lay dead, the blood pumped out of her chest. With casual strength, Jim lifted the body and tossed her aside¡ªanother corpse for the pile.
Jim glanced up at the carnage and did a double take. Conner could see him swear under his breath as he began to move with a newfound urgency¡ªtoward Conner. Terror gripped Conner¡¯s throat as Jim¡¯s hand clamped on his shoulder. His fingers were steel, lifting Conner with strength Conner felt no human should possess. The stranger roared again. It took Conner¡¯s panicked mind a moment to register it wasn¡¯t a wordless cry like it had been before, but a stentorian ¡°No!¡±
Jim paused, frowning at the stranger. Jim slowly turned to look at Conner, a calculating look behind his eyes. He raised his dagger. Conner tensed, anticipating the end of his life. He was surprised that instead of plunging that dagger into his chest like Jim had done to so many others, he instead dragged it across Conner¡¯s back, eliciting a surprised, agonized yell from him.
If the plan was to distract the stranger and get him killed, it backfired. Suddenly the stranger seemed to grow a foot¡ª his arms and legs were suddenly longer, sharper looking. More tentacles sprang from his torso and thighs, barbs covered his arms and hands. What little skin he had that wasn¡¯t black was suddenly consumed, the whole of him becoming darker¡ªlike he was painted in Vantablack. His hair floated around his head like a dark halo of a solar eclipse. The sudden flurry of activity was too chaotic for Conner to understand what he was seeing, but whatever was happening distracted Jim enough that he slowed to a stop as he watched the black monster absolutely tear through the remaining monsters. At some point, the stranger lost his T-shirt mask, but Conner couldn¡¯t make out his face with the lack of light touching the stranger''s features.
The next thing Conner knew, all the monsters were dead. The stranger was still moving, blood and other liquids dripping from his many limbs as he paced the circumference of the circle, stopping periodically to scratch something into the floor with his tentacles.
¡°Stop what you are doing, or I¡¯ll kill him,¡± Jim demanded, raising his voice over the chanting of the other cultists. He pressed the tip of the dagger to Conner¡¯s throat.
¡°You¡¯re going to kill him anyway,¡± the stranger said. His voice was still layered with the nightmarish sounds that had filled his scream earlier, but it was much reduced. The quality of his speaking voice sent shivers up Conner¡¯s spine. The stranger gestured at the pile of corpses just behind Jim and Conner.
¡°He certainly won¡¯t survive if you don¡¯t stop,¡± Jim growled, pushing the dagger enough that Conner felt it pierce his skin.
The stranger didn¡¯t shout again, but the universe did that weird fluctuation around him. The man clutched his fists and stopped moving. At least, he stopped walking. His body continued to change, making him taller, and more gangly. Two new limbs grew from his shoulders¡ªnot tentacles this time, but another two arms identical to the ones he already had. He glanced at his two new arms, flexing them experimentally before returning his attention to Jim.
¡°So what now?¡± He asked, his nightmare voice sending daggers into Conner¡¯s ears.
Jim debated silently for a moment. ¡°Leave,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll allow the domain to let you and your comrades exit. In exchange, I¡¯ll make sure this one¡ª¡° he gently shook Conner, uncaring about the dagger threatening to open his throat. ¡°¡ªlives.¡±
The stranger snorted, causing Conner to flinch. ¡°Even if I trusted you to keep your word,¡± the stranger said, gesturing with one of his new arms at Conner. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen anything that looks like medical facilities in this shithole, and he¡¯ll die without medical attention. I need him alive.¡±
¡°Then it would seem we are at an impasse,¡± Jim replied after a pregnant pause.
The stranger took a step forward and reached out. Conner was confused, especially so when Jim tensed. The stranger was over a hundred feet away. Did Jim think the stranger could cover that distance before Jim could kill Conner?
Conner¡¯s thoughts were put aside as he saw something stop the stranger''s hand. It was like he was pressing against glass. Conner watched in confusion, unsure of what he was seeing until he realized the stranger was right at the border of the strange symbols the cultists were praying in. Was¡ªIt must be magic.
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Conner hadn¡¯t put much thought into the horrible, impossible things he had been seeing. It was very hard to think with how much pain he was in, with how little food he had been given. Conner was frankly, thoroughly surprised he was conscious. Dozens of other prisoners had gone to their deaths without even waking when the dagger entered their hearts.
It could be a force field, Conner reasoned, for some reason trying to play devil¡¯s advocate for himself. But no, it was magic. The awful, terrible magic from old folklore. The magic of evil, curses, sorrow, and the absence of hope. There was no Gandalf to arrive to shed light into the dark, no magic sword to slay the ultimate evil. Conner was just unlucky enough to be caught between two evils. He could only hope that, if the stranger won, he was less evil than the cultists.
As Conner watched, the stranger pushed with more effort against the invisible wall. Light began to emit from the area around his hand, followed by wisps of smoke. Conner heard Jim gasp. Conner assumed whatever the stranger was doing was impressive, to get that reaction out of the man. After pressing for a few more seconds, the stranger removed his hand and flexed it. Conner couldn¡¯t make out his face, but he got the impression the stranger was wearing a thoughtful expression.
The stranger reached out again with another hand. ¡°Stop!¡± Jim shouted, shifting his grip on the dagger in a clear threat. Jim shifted his grip on Conner, dragging him around in front of the cultist as if to use him as a shield. Conner didn¡¯t have the strength to hold his head up for more than a few seconds, let alone stand, so he was being held up by Jim¡¯s iron grip on his shoulder. This proved to be awkward even for Jim¡¯s prodigious strength, as he shifted to a kneeling position and dropped Conner to the floor.
Conner could no longer see the stranger from his new position. The way Jim had him pinned to the ground (as if he could move if he wanted to), his back was to the terrifying man. Perhaps Jim had positioned him in that way so he could remind the stranger of the damage done to Conner¡¯s back.
What Conner could now see was another man outside the circle. The fight with the stranger and the monsters had taken the stranger to the other side of the room, opposite the entrance to the prison. As Conner watched, the blood-covered man in black armor was attaching a ring-like device to the empty air. The cultists nearest the newcomer were¡ still praying. Conner could barely make out their faces with how far away they were, but it looked like they were trying to grab Jim¡¯s attention without ending their chants or moving too much. Their eyes were wide and panicked.
¡°Make another move and he dies,¡± Jim said, repositioning the dagger.
Conner got the impression the stranger was shrugging from his tone of voice(s). ¡°If he dies, you die next. The only hope you have of walking away from this is if that man lives.¡±
What does he want with me?! Conner thought, the stress of the situation loosening his fragile grip on consciousness. Conner held on, gritting teeth loosened by scurvy.
¡°You think I wouldn¡¯t die for the great one?!¡± Jim crowed.
¡°Maybe,¡± came the reply. ¡°But if I were a betting man, I¡¯d say you value your life dearly. Cult leaders aren¡¯t the most selfless people, historically.¡± There was a pause that suggested the stranger was considering. ¡°Though, there is the risk that you¡¯re a zealot.¡±
¡°You have no idea of the depths of my devotion! The Great One will wipe¡ª¡°
Jim was interrupted by the stranger''s much more powerful voice. ¡°Listen, fuckface! I¡ª¡°
Conner didn¡¯t hear the rest of what he said. That phrase! That cadence. Suddenly it was fourteen years ago. Conner tasted blood from a cut on the inside of his cheek. Eric Briggson had decided Conner was a victim, and despite the training their father had given him, Conner was too small to effectively fight back against the much larger teenager. His first attempt at self defense had merely pissed off Eric, which earned him a beating.
In the previous two weeks, Conner had done a good job of avoiding the bully. But that day Eric had cornered him in a deserted street just a block from school. Conner didn¡¯t even hear him, he was just suddenly shoved into an alley. Eric¡¯s first punch had knocked Conner over, cutting his cheek on his teeth. Conner was about to get up and try to give a better showing than he did the last time when Liam appeared out of nowhere with a bat and took out Eric¡¯s knee. Liam was wearing a hoodie and baseball hat, which must have been sweltering in the early September heat.
Quick as lightning, Liam had the teen on the ground, pinning him. He was choking off his cries of pain with his bat pressed into the bully¡¯s throat. ¡°Listen, fuckface, ¡®cause I¡¯m only going to say this once; leave Conner alone. If I hear he¡¯s having bully problems again, I¡¯ll find out where you live and force you to eat fucking glass. I¡¯ll break every bone in your fucking body with this bat and force you to crawl to the phone to call your own fucking ambulance. Do you understand me?¡±
Eric was choking but had the presence of mind to nod hastily. Liam slapped him, hard. ¡°I asked you a question, fuckface.¡±
¡°Y-yes,¡± Eric gasped. It sounded like a gurgle.
Liam leaned down, putting more pressure on the bat. ¡°Do you believe me?¡± He hissed.
Eric nodded as much as he could. His only verbalization was a croak that might have sounded like a ¡°yes.¡±
Liam stared into Eric¡¯s eyes for a good five seconds before nodding curtly and lifting the bat off the younger teen''s throat. As he stood, he maintained eye contact with the teen who was curling around his likely shattered knee. Without looking away, he stooped to grab Conner¡¯s hand, yanking him up onto his feet. Conner was frozen, unable to move until Liam gave him another gentle shove, moving him in the direction of their apartment.
They were walking for an entire block before Conner was able to shake off his stupor. ¡°Liam, what the fuck? How did you get here?¡±
Liam wasn¡¯t looking at him. He was scanning the apartments and corner shops in the area, his eyes scanning and never staying on anything for more than a second.
¡°Skipped last period,¡± Liam said, his voice tense. ¡°When you came home all beat up, it wasn¡¯t hard to ask around your school and find out who had it out for you. I just hope the asshole is dumb and scared enough he won¡¯t think to press charges.¡±
¡°What¡ªLiam, I haven¡¯t seen Eric in two weeks,¡± Conner said. ¡°How the¡ªhave you been tailing me this whole time?¡±
¡°Not the whole time,¡± Liam replied. ¡°But often, yeah. It¡¯s made my alibi a real pain in the ass to maintain.¡±
Before Conner could reply, Liam seemed to find what he was looking for¡ªgarbage cans set out on the curb, ready for pickup. He found one that was only half full, wiped the bat down with the sleeves of his hoodie, and dropped it in.
¡°Take your time getting home,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll be home late, but don¡¯t make excuses for me. As far as you know, you never saw me. If the cops ask you, you didn¡¯t recognize the guy who hit that kid. Got it?¡±
¡°Liam, I¡ª¡° Conner began.
¡°This is important, Conner,¡± Liam said, stopping and pulling him into a hug. ¡°Anyone who hurts you has to deal with me. But we can¡¯t let this come back to bite us in the ass.¡± He released the hug, his eyes scanning around again before meeting Conner¡¯s. ¡°Got it? You never saw me, you don¡¯t know where I am. Same for the cops if they ever ask. Understand?¡±
Conner nodded shakily. ¡°Y-yeah.¡±
¡°Sweet,¡± Liam said, smiling briefly. ¡°Hopefully this will calm things down enough until we move again.¡±
¡°Dad said this was a permanent posting,¡± Liam said, not believing his own words.
Liam snorted. ¡°And we know how much his word is worth. I¡¯ll see you at home.¡±
Suddenly Conner was back in the present. Jim and the stranger were still arguing. The newcomer was lifting what looked like an old Western rifle and threading it through the ring device that was suspended in the air.
With a burst of strength that surprised both himself and Jim, Conner turned around and faced the stranger¡ªno. Faced Liam.
What the hell happened to him?