Contents

Title

Copyright

Dedication

Get More

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

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About the Author

BIRTHRIGHT

Book 2 of

The Legacy Series

RYAN ATTARD

Birthright

Ryan Attard

Copyright © 2014 by Ryan Attard. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

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Chapter 1

“You may not like it, Abi, but we do have a protocol.”

My voice was dulled by the hiss of rainfall. Not that it mattered. My apprentice stormed in front of me, intent on proving she was right by stomping her feet and staunchly ignoring me.

My name is Erik Ashendale, and today’s pain in the ass was my apprentice slash secretary, Abigail.

Arguing in the rain is not fun. Arguing with a person who is plainly ignoring you is annoying. Arguing with a witch-succubus hybrid while carrying a gym bag full of equipment and getting soaked to the bone makes you want to blast said hybrid with a fire bolt.

“Really, Erik? Protocol?” she yelled against the rain. She reached my office and took shelter under the small archway, waiting for me to unlock the door and let her in.

“Just because it’s not written down doesn’t mean it’s not real,” I countered.

“Is this the same protocol that tells you it’s okay to kick down doors, blast walls open and sink entire cruise ships?”

I saw her smirk as I fumbled for my keys. I didn’t like that smirk. That smirk meant she thought she had won. I opened the door and walked in. “So I’m a late convert to the whole ‘think before you leap’ mentality, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” I looked at her as she stripped off her jacket and tried to squeeze water out of her naturally red hair. “We could have both been in serious trouble.”

“Oh, come on! They were vampires. Easy prey,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

I closed my eyes and tried not to explode in a tirade. She knew what to say to make me angry and she was hitting all the right buttons.

“Abi,” I said, a dangerous note in my voice. My apprentice had quickly learned how to decipher my vocal tones. She stopped playing with her hair and faced me, all cockiness gone. “What was the situation?”

“We entered the nest, vamps were scattered all around us. There was a large group concentrated around the leader. The rest were either in pairs or alone.”

“And what did I instruct you to do?” I asked.

“I was supposed to pick off the lone ones and watch your back while you took on the leader and his flunkies.”

“And what did you do?” I hated being like this, as though I were some headmaster humiliating a student. I hated being the douche-bag. I remembered clearly how it felt being on the other side of this conversation. But sometimes taking on the role of the bad guy was the only way to drive a lesson home.

She stared at a wet spot on the floor. “I went straight for the leader of the pack.”

“Which left me with the responsibility of watching your back and front. You’re not strong enough to take on fifteen vamps at one go.” I turned and walked away.

“I’m sorry.” Her tone was sincere, her voice barely a whisper.

“Sorry isn’t gonna bring you back from the dead,” I said a little too harshly. “We’re up against demons and Sins. The worst of the worst. I died last time, and it was only because of some dumb twist of fate that I happen to be here now. I can’t let that happen to anyone else.”

Silence reined for a while. Abi stood next to me, and we both stared out of the window, watching tiny raindrops explode against the tarmac.

“We’re stronger now,” she said.

I glanced at her.

“We’re stronger,” she insisted. “We have your sister as an ally now. The angels promised they’d help, too. And you got me. I’m powerful.”

She had a point. I’d only started teaching Abi less than a year ago and she had picked up magic almost overnight. Given her succubus nature, she had all the physical endowments of a half-demon and was a natural at stuff like telepathy and psychometry. Amaymon had told me in private that in a few years’ time she could become proficient in telekinesis and all the other psychic branches of magic.

I hadn’t told her that. Abi was strong, no doubt, but she was still inexperienced. Today’s mission was proof enough. And unless she could convince me that she was mature enough to handle more power, I was seriously considering putting a stop to our teachings.

“I never said you’re not strong. I said you weren’t strong enough. You gotta use your head. Think. Observe.”

“I do think. And I observe stuff.”

“Really? Okay then, here’s a little test for you. How old were the vamps we took out today?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “How should I know? They looked to be around nineteen or twenty.”

I rolled my eyes. “I mean, how long did they have their powers for? Vampire years.”

“I… How the hell do you expect me to know that?” she snapped.

“Observation,” I replied simply.

“Fine. Three, maybe four years. They were young, including their boss.”

I applauded mockingly. “Yes, they were young. But they couldn’t have had their powers for more than six months. A year tops.”

“There’s no way you could have gotten that from thirty seconds of fighting.”

I smirked. I could still impress her. It was also fun to know I had won the argument.

“Their healing factor was too slow, too weak; their reflexes and strength were below average in supernatural terms; their hunting tactics were so pitiful even Bambi could have kicked their asses; and they were very, very messy during their feeding. As they fed they went into a frenzy of lust and hunger, which suggests that they're new to that level of ecstasy. You lost yet?”

“You don’t have to get all high and mighty about it,” she said with a huff.

My satisfaction increased. “No, I don’t, but I enjoy it. Which brings me back to my original point. We use tactics. Look at my sister. She’s got no healing factor and no super powers to speak of. Despite that, she rarely emerges with more than a scratch. I, on the other hand, with my near-immortality and vast powers, am constantly getting stabbed, shot at and otherwise killed. So, how about we start using our heads and avoid body bags, huh?”

Whatever she was going to say was lost when a loud explosion went off in the kitchen, followed by a series of crashing and clanging sounds. In the midst of all that, I heard my cat yelling,

“Ah, damn.”

Chapter 2

Amaymon wasn’t like most cats. I mean, sure, he spent his waking hours eating and sleeping, but he could also talk, turn into a powerful demon and wreck my damn kitchen.

He saw us walk in, turned his golden eyes toward us and nonchalantly said, “Howdy” before resuming his assault on the mini-fridge. Abi had brought that in with her when she moved in, claiming that she had things she wanted to keep separate from my leftover-filled fridge and the glutton demonic cat that knew perfectly well how to open it. The mini-fridge was putting up a good fight. It bounced from one spot to another, avoiding Amaymon’s attempts to pounce on it. Any utensils near the fridge shot toward the cat, and let me tell you, watching your annoying cat getting whacked in the face with a frying pan like some bizarre cartoon sequence is hilarious.

It stopped being hilarious when the Balinese demon became a victim.

It was a statue of decent workmanship, a carving of a very ugly demon wielding a lightning bolt. I don’t remember exactly where I got it, maybe a garage sale or something. The only reason I got it was that I had yet to fight a Balinese monster, and in my own sad way I figured it would be nice to encounter a demon, even a cheap wooden carving of one, which had yet to try and rip my head off. Point is, I liked that statue and the cat scratched it.

And that’s when I got mad.

I lunged for the insane appliance and grasped it with both hands. On top of it was a sigil, a magical circle full of squiggly symbols painted on with nail polish. I forced my magic through it and after a faint pop the fridge stopped having an epileptic fit.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked as I took in the war-zone that my kitchen had become.

“I spent all evening trying to get that damn thing open. And then it went off,” Amaymon said, as if that clarified everything. Abi snatched the fridge from my hands and checked her nail-polish-drawn sigil.

“Now I have to draw this again. Last time it took me a couple of hours to figure out the proper proportions for the spell,” she whined.

My tone got louder. “Can someone explain to me what on Earth happened to my freakin’ kitchen?”

But they still ignored me.

“I told you to stay out of my things,” she told the cat.

“All I wanted was a cupcake,” he replied.

“You ate the entire batch last week.”

“And that gives you the right to booby trap your fridge?”

“Hey, guys! I’m still here!”

Again, they ignored me.

“How else am I supposed to keep you from eating everything in the house?” she retorted.

“You can’t. I do what I want, when I want. And I want a cupcake,” Amaymon hissed.

Abi raised her eyebrows. Amaymon’s tough guy act was long lost on the apprentice. So, he tried the next best thing. He launched himself at the fridge in Abi’s arms and hung spread-eagle from the small appliance.

Without a word, I grabbed the cat by his collar, prying him off the fridge and kicking him in midair. The cat flew to the other side of the kitchen.

“Isn’t that animal abuse?” Abi asked.

“Not if the animal is a demon,” I replied as I opened the fridge in Abi’s arms. Its contents were sparse, save for a dozen small, round, red-velvet cupcakes. I took one out and was about to take a bite when I noticed a black ball of fur bolting toward the open fridge. I closed the door, and as Amaymon jumped I swatted him away with the fridge itself. For the second time that evening, the cat flew across the room.

“Watch the fridge,” Abi gasped. I ignored her and took a bite out of that cupcake. I had to hand it to her, the girl could bake.

“So, this is what my life has become now.” I paced around the kitchen with a pastry in one hand and a mini-fridge in the other. “You two arguing over baked goods and destroying my kitchen in the process. And worst of all, ignoring me. Never ignore me.”

I handed the appliance over to its owner. “Clever spell. I’m impressed that you managed to tone down a protection and defense spell for something as big as a house and make it work for a fridge. But next time you’re gonna put a utensil bomb in my kitchen, warn me first.”

“And you.” I looked at the cat with the same expression the Balinese demon wore. “Any more crap from you and I’ll skin you alive and turn you into a pair of fuzzy slippers. Now, both of you, clean this up.” I turned and left, heading straight for the shower. After arguing in a rainstorm and witnessing the epic battle of cat versus mini-fridge, I could use some relaxing time under a stream of hot water.

I stood under the shower for a few minutes, letting water wash away the grime collected by another day of hunting nightmares and horrors. But try as I might, no amount of relaxation could soothe my mind.

It was getting harder and harder out there, with all the new powers in play. Only a few months ago, if a client asked me to rid him of a haunting ghost and it turned a little nasty, I would consider that a tough day. I would come home and unwind, maybe watch a little TV, drink a beer, have some company over. Whatever got me through the night.

Now I had to instruct a beautiful young woman who, genetically speaking, was as frightening as the monsters we hunted, and she seemed adamant on repeating all the mistakes I made as a kid. It wasn’t as if I didn’t enjoy teaching her. Some would say it was high time I took in a partner and passed on the esoteric knowledge I harvested. But this had gone beyond the usual stuff I did. I was used to a method. Step one, find the monster. Step two, whack that son of a bitch and go for a pint. Now… well, now, I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to hunt. I mean, vampires, ghouls, maybe a demon or two—I could handle that.

But a Deadly Sin, are you kidding me? That was entire universes beyond me.

My curse rendered me virtually immortal—stab me, shoot me, maim me, I’ll walk it off—but that bitch, Lilith, had killed me. I mean, really killed me. No amount of healing magic would have brought me back. Only an accident, a glitch in the universe, a freak phenomenon had brought me back. Sure, I got back feeling as if I had replaced the Energizer Bunny, but the fact remains, I died. And if I may be so immodest, I’m one tough mother to kill.

Then, Amaymon springs the zinger: “Guess what, everybody. The super-tough demon that sprouted a freakin’ Alpha upon her demise was only defeated because she lost her ability to keep herself together. Which means that, somewhere out there, six other apocalyptic-scale nasties are lurking about, and if they cooperated with whoever, or whatever, was pulling their strings, they would not lose themselves like Lust did. Oh, and they would kill us. Like, a lot.”

Despite all that, the apprentice kept trudging about in her own way. I mean, talk about learning the hard way. She almost got her head separated from her shoulders merely a few hours ago and suddenly it’s my fault. Maybe my gut was right. Maybe I should quit teaching her.

I poured water over my face as if to cleanse the thought away. I couldn’t just leave her, not the way I had been left alone. No way in hell was I going to make her go through the same crap I had to go through as a kid. I needed to focus, to get my act together. Whether I liked it or not, I was involved in this. And once, a long time ago, a wise man told me that no matter how large a problem seemed, it only took the courage to make that first step to completely unravel it. That was what I needed, that one tiny, terrifying step.

First things first—I needed to get my resources in check. My sister was currently combing through her network of spooks and spies for anything related to the Seven Deadly Sins. Or anything that sounded like a conspiracy. She clued me in on any gathering of monsters, even if they just happened to be flocking together. Her team of scary mercenary wizard ninjas had been active for months, leaving behind them a trail of ash and bone. She had even made a move against human conspirators. My sister took paranoia to a whole new level. And that method was getting old.

I didn’t want to contact the angels myself. After punching Jehudiel in the face, even though he totally deserved it and he totally let me do it, I was reluctant to call him. The archangel was probably busy holding together some corner of the universe or something. And it wasn’t as if we had parted on good terms. Excluding the punch, I may have told him to shove his war and his holiness up his armor crack. And twist a couple of times.

But that didn’t mean that I wouldn’t call on him if I needed his help. If there’s one thing I made sure was clear was that Earth was my turf. And no being, no matter how powerful, was simply going to waltz in and start giving out orders. So, I made a mental note: give my sister another couple of weeks. If she still had bubkis, I’d rope Amaymon into spilling out a summoning ritual or two.

Issue number two—I had to stop being a friend to Abi and start being a mentor. This wasn’t college. You fail a class in school, big whoop. Second chances aren’t that uncommon.

But fail in my world and the consequences were much more dire. All it took was a moment of distraction, to be a little slower, a little weaker, a little out of synch, and heads would roll, most likely yours. There were no second chances, no fair questions—only pain and horror.

Although despite all that, we did occasionally smile and laugh at the fact that we took on entire ships of hellish denizens and lived to fight another day. Sometimes there were good days. But if Abi wanted to live to see them, my apprentice needed to stop being a liability. And it was up to me to make her an asset.

Final issue: me—I had a problem.

Amaymon said there was nothing wrong with my magic but I kept feeling off. For one thing, the boost I received after doing the whole resurrection thing seemed to have haywired my entire system. I was never subtle with my power to begin with, and lacked concentration to a major degree, but now I had trouble brewing up even the simplest of spells.

Whenever I did fire off a spell, forget about restraint. All I did today was blow up walls without meaning to. That was why Abi managed to take the lead during the vampire assault. It wasn’t that she was faster or stronger—it was the fact that I was lamer. If Amaymon was right, and when it comes to magic he usually is, then this problem wasn’t supernatural at all. It was human. I, me, the Erik part, was the problem. Stress, tension, fear—whatever it was, it needed to go, and fast.

Because all signs read one message. The balance between good and evil, order and chaos in this universe, and possibly in all our neighboring planes of existence, rested on my shoulders. I was the only one who could save it. Apparently, some deity or universal force decided to make me the chosen one.

So I needed to be at the top of my game. I had friends and a family to defend—I had a universe to protect.

The universe was so screwed.

Chapter 3

The phone’s ringing snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned off the water and waded out of the shower, trying to dry myself off and avoid tripping over the towel at the same time. I heard the phone go off again and something bumped against the door.

“Erik. Phone,” came Amaymon’s voice from behind to the door. “You might wanna get it since I have no thumbs and the lady of the house is currently blasting her ears with some of that horrible music that kids listen to these days.”

I cracked open the door and stuck my head out. “Yeah, I’ll get it. I’m expecting a call anyway.”

Amaymon turned his gaze upwards at me. “Then I shall carry on with my life of feline mellowness and staring into space.”

I rolled my eyes and quickly put on some pants before exiting.

“I’m sure Abi will appreciate your new look,” remarked the cat.

“This from the guy who openly licks himself,” I shot back. The phone went off again, sending another resonating burst of sound through my head.

“What?” I said into the receiver. I’m no good with phones.

“Bad timing, brother?” My sister’s voice had its usual edge of ice, as if to imply that she was doing me some sort of favor by addressing me directly.

“It’s never good timing, but then again, I’m sure you know what a crap fest my life has been the past few months.” I took a deep breath and sat myself down. The storm was still raging outside. “What’s up, Gil?”

“My patience is. I hope you have yielded some form of clue with regards to the Seven Deadly Sins.”

“I got squat. Your info led me to a vampire nest. New ones, too. All we found were scraps of cloth and a whole lot of blood. I mean, these guys didn’t even bother with coffins, thrones, or shrunken heads. I thought those were a staple in every nest.” I could sense my sister rolling her eyes.

“Stop joking, Erik, this is serious.” My sister sighed. “We struck some nests, too. And here’s the strange part: they were expecting you.”

I frowned. “Me? What am I, vampire boogeyman?”

“Apparently. You may not realize it, but your work has had a significant effect. The reason this city is flooded with monsters is because of you. They either want to challenge you or are attracted to your magic. Or, and this is a recent theory I have been developing, they may be here because this town has become a nexus of power.”

“English, please.” Two minutes on the phone with my sister and my head was ready to explode.

“Think about it. Why here, in good old La Fortunata? Because of you. You killed monsters and that rippled out through the entire dimension. Every time you kill a monster you leave a void, inviting other monsters to replace it. It hasn’t been a year since you destroyed Lilith. Think of all her power and of the huge void she left. More monsters are going to come and it is only going to get worse.”

Oh, good. More monsters, more demons. More things trying to rip me to shreds. How nice of my sister to plan out the next decade of my life: keep slaying monsters until I hit the mother lode and as my reward I will have to—wait for it—fight more fucking monsters.

At least that takes care of the clientele flow.

“It’s been your plan all along, hasn’t it?” I said. “Increase the imbalance of the city’s natural magic flow by slaying anything trying to step into Lilith’s place, and create enough turbulence to attract the biggest, baddest and craziest. You’ve turned the entire city into a nexus of chaos and rampant magic just so you can attract a Sin. I don’t know whether to be impressed or disgusted.”

“It’s the ultimate trap. We are Warlocks after all,” my sister replied. Her voice had a hint of pride in it. I was about to retort with something offensive but managed to restrain myself. Only a few minutes ago I was contemplating going to the angels for help, but all the while my sister had pulled a Machiavelli on me and roped me into her big ‘Demonic Bell Jar’ plan. So, unless I could come up with something better, I had to roll with it.

But that didn’t mean I had to be happy about it. “Anything else you want, sis?” I asked, somewhat acidly.

“Yes,” crackled her voice. “One of the nests we hit tonight had a wall covered with photos from various crime scenes and a map of Eureka. They know where you live and, judging by the number of notes we found, they seem to have been studying your modus operandi.”

“Oh, great, a fan. Do they have anything concrete?” I asked, scanning the empty office and extending my magical powers.

I felt the crystals embedded in my office walls resonate with power, ready to push back any unwelcome invaders. At the same time, they allowed me to use my magic freely in my office, giving me complete home-field advantage.

“They have some obscure pictures of a guy in a long trench coat. In one of them, an outline of Abi can be seen. They know where you live. At least, your place is one of their guesses. We didn’t get them all, Erik. Two escaped and they may be heading toward you as we speak.”

“Where was the nest? Here in Eureka?” I asked.

“No. We found them on the border of Oregon. It’s quite a distance but well-fed vampires could cross it in half a day.”

I pondered that. My magical defenses would keep out relatively weak monsters such as vampires, but it was those weak creatures that were the most devious. My crystals won’t stop them if they decided to burst in with, say, an army tank. As for reinforcements, vampire nests tended to be like lion prides. They kept to their own hunting grounds and never ventured too far. If these guys seriously decided to come after me they would have to do it without being detected by others of their kind or any other monster lurking in my beloved hometown.

“I have already dispatched some patrols to the other locations marked. Some of them are household dwellings and I do not want any more bloodshed tonight,” my sister said. “Do you want me to send a couple of guys to your house?”

I let out a bark of laughter. “Nah, I’m fine. Keep your guys. Never liked them anyway.”

“Will you be okay?” My sister sounded tired.

“Gil, you just told me that a couple of vampires are going to cross the border over here to Monsterville, on the off chance that they might find me and show me how tough they are. That’s about as intimidating as you telling me that a group of girl scouts are going to show up at my door and whack me in the face with a frying pan. I think I’ll manage. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“When was the last time you slept?” I asked. “You sound even more tired than I am.”

“I’m busy, Erik,” she snapped back icily.

“Well, take a damn break before you break. Make Mephisto do something for a change,” I retorted.

“I don’t trust him, Erik. Unlike you and your familiar, my relationship with mine is strictly formal. In that regard, you have been set up with the familiar easiest to live with.”

I observed as said familiar waded into the kitchen and hopped onto the top shelf. Moving behind a cereal box, he nudged it forward and sent it tumbling down, its contents spilling all over the kitchen floor. Nonchalantly, Amaymon descended and began consuming the spilled cereal.

“Yes,” I replied, my tone heavy with sarcasm and disgust. “Clearly, I have the household friendly familiar. Goodnight, Gil. Get some sleep.” And I lowered the receiver back in its place.

I extended my hand and my short sword, Djinn, still sheathed and resting on the coffee table where I’d left it, levitated and moved gracefully toward my awaiting hand. With the same hand, I slightly flicked my fingers. The switch at the other end of the room clicked and the lights went out. I channeled magic into the crystals once more, engaging the supernatural security system. Each of the crystal glowed through the walls, flooding the room with dimmed white light. I caught Amaymon staring at me from the kitchen doorframe, the darkness causing a faint eye shine from his feline eyes.

“We’re sleeping with the heavy duty alarm on tonight. And clean up after yourself when you’re done,” I said, heading upstairs for some sleep.

Chapter 4

Life as a wizard involves many dangers. You could be ambushed by some hungry monster attracted to your juicy aura. You could poke your nose too hard into their territory and find yourself at the mercy of a pack of werewolves. True story. And it is guaranteed that your fellow countrymen, for whom you worked so hard, will shun you, giving you looks reserved only for hobos and drunken uncles.

And you will never, ever, get one single miserable goodnight’s sleep.

At first, I thought it was the guy down the block. He’s always up before the roosters, either hammering at something, or welding something, or whatever. I don’t speak mechanic. Or hoarder, which is more likely his case. Whatever he was up to, it involved a lot of noise. So, I spun in my bed, cursing the man in question with maladies only found in the Dark Ages, and heard a crash of glass breaking. It wasn’t the distant sound of an accident, like the ones usually followed by a string of hilariously foul language. This was close by.

In fact, it sounded like the sound came from right under my bedroom window.

I got up, now more alarmed, and after a quick thought I decided that pants took a priority over swords. Somewhere in between lying to us and plotting our murder, my father had found the time to teach me the basics of decency. Besides, I’m no Gregory Peck. No one wants to see a lanky, wiry wizard waving a glowing sword around with no pants on.

I strode downstairs, Djinn in hand, ready for any who dared cross the threshold to my office. The office area was undisturbed, still bathing in the glow of white light. I extended my senses and found the entire place to be devoid of intruders. A few seconds later, Abi appeared on the stairs with a gun in her hand. Amaymon was nowhere to be seen.

I heard the crash again, this time accompanied by voices, and walked closer to the window. Outside, a guy wearing a wife-beater vest and holding a wrench up high signaled to his friend across the car they were wrecking. The other wore a black sports jacket and stood very still with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Under the streetlight I couldn’t see what color the car was, but I knew it the moment that the wrench guy struck the front hood again.

My car. My relatively new, fresh-out-of-the-shop car.

The poor thing had suffered enough wear and tear from previous cases and my mechanic across town was kind enough to fix it at a quicker pace. I loved that car. For one thing, it replaced the secondhand piece of crap I’d owned before it. For another, I didn’t have to pay for it. Not directly anyways. It was a thinly-veiled bribe from Heaven.

And to my horror, Wrench beat it again, further denting the hood.

“Come on, lift it up. I wanna chuck the engine through the window,” the scowling one said with a thick southern accent.

“I keep trying, but the damn thing ain’t budgin’,” his companion replied.

“Well try harder,” the other snapped back.

Wrench growled and stabbed the hood, driving the wrench through the stainless steel. He raised his other hand and claws grew from his fingertips. Stabbing it, he literally tore the hood apart.

“There ain’t no engine,” he cried.

The other—Scowl—bared his teeth, exposing a set of shark-like fangs designed to rip flesh from bone.

“Vampires,” I spat from behind the window. I remained frozen on the spot, shaking with anger. It was one thing to come after me, but I hated these petty acts. If you’ve got beef with me, come face me directly. Don’t rip my car apart or tear down my office. As if I don’t have enough financial problems already.

I tightened my grip on Djinn and streaks of azure ran through the blade. I started making my way towards the door to give those vamps a taste of their own medicine, but was stopped by a pair of glowing eyes by the door.

“Erik,” Amaymon said calmly. “Think about this for a second.” The cat sat against the door.

“What’s there to think about?” I yelled. “They’re tearing my car apart. Now, I’m gonna do the same thing to them.” I grabbed the door handle but the door wouldn’t budge, as if it were walled shut.

Amaymon hissed. “Listen to me, Erik,” he said. “There are two hillbilly vamps out there whose idea of damage is taking a wrench to your car. And here you have an apprentice who failed her test earlier on, so to speak. How about giving her a make-up?”

“What are you talking about?” I said, still trying to get the door open. Unless I used magic and blasted the thing apart, the door wasn’t giving.

“There are two vampires out there,” he repeated. “Think about it. Where are you going to find such an opportunity again? They hunt in packs, Erik. She can’t handle a dozen. But with just two, you can take your time, sit back and watch her progress.”

I paused and let what he said sink in. Of course, he was right. I may have been biased, but my familiar was a demon, and a powerful one at that. He was the kind of demon about whom legends were spun and bards sung in Hell around the campfire. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a statue erected in his honor. Amaymon was a resident of Hell long before Hell became the place we know now. He existed before the Earth took its first rotation, long before man learned how to rub two sticks together and light a fire. He was the right-hand man of the only being powerful enough to conquer all of Hell and unite it as a kingdom. The Demon Emperor was the original Palpatine, and Amaymon was his Darth Vader.

“Fine,” I said.

Amaymon nodded and looked at Abi, who remained silent and observant throughout the exchange. Her very first lesson was to never, ever, interfere when the wizard and his cat were arguing.

I heard another crash and felt like crying. “Whatever it is you’re planning, could you hurry it up?”

The cat let out a mew.

“Abi, you’re up against vampires,” Amaymon said. “Gun?”

Abi pulled back the slide. “Check.”

“Ammo?”

Abi looked at her gun and her face cringed. Hey, at least she was correcting her mistakes on her own, right? She drew open a drawer, pulled out an ammunition box and flipped it open, revealing several rows of silver bullets.

“Silver hollow points,” she said as she packed a number of bullets tightly inside the magazine. Putting it in place, she chambered a round and extracted the magazine. She placed another bullet on top and inserted the magazine again.

“Magic?”

Abi closed her eyes and the room began buzzing with the faint crackling of static electricity. The pressure dropped and heat began emitting from the apprentice. Discreetly, I used my own magic to sense hers. She had grown at a bizarre rate over the last few months. When we had just met, she could barely create enough turbulence to stir my sleep. Now, unless I tapped into my own reservoir of power, she could cause some serious damage. The girl was strong. Problem was she knew it too.

“Good,” Amaymon said. He had trained with Abi for a couple of weeks, creating role-play scenarios for her. Apparently, she listened to the damn cat more than she did her actual teacher.

“Payment for the cat?” he said.

Abi pursed her lips as if she realized she’d walked into a trap. “Two hours of snuggling while watching TV, you pervert,” she said with a loud sigh.

And now I knew why she had discontinued asking Amaymon for help.

“Good,” my familiar replied delightedly. “You’re good to go.”

I stepped aside and the door opened by itself. Abi walked out silently, her eyes locked on her first target.

“You recognize that look, Erik?” Amaymon asked when we both leaned against the window to observe the vampires.

They were arguing now, the idiots.

I hoped she made them suffer for what they did to my precious car. The cat was perched on the windowsill, his tail curled around him. I stroked his head absentmindedly.

“Yeah,” I said grimly. I had worn a similar look for years. I tried pushing down the memories like I usually did when they surfaced. But I did remember that look—the look of someone with something to prove.

Chapter 5

The first vampire never knew what hit him. Three rounds hit Wrench—the first embedded itself squarely in his throat, causing his head to lop sideways as muscle and bone were ripped out. The second bullet veered off wildly, slicing into the vampire’s collarbone and only managing to tear a small chunk of flesh. The third one smashed into his nose and drilled further inwards, rendering his head into a gory mass.

Scowl turned around and caught sight of the moving figure, her red hair catching the light of the street lamp and momentarily glinting. He leapt to one side, avoiding a bullet meant for his chest.

Abi fired off more rounds, trailing glints of silver flashing behind the deceptively fast vampire. That was her first mistake. Wrench wasn’t out of the game yet. Through sheer luck he had somehow avoided getting hit in his brain or heart and was still staggering from side to side, as if he were a zombie in some cheap horror flick.

Abi was still fighting against Scowl, who darted around the apprentice. She stopped shooting and dropped her guard. The vampire was soon behind her, teeth bared. It wasn’t the cheesy Dracula scene where he hypnotically bites the victim in the neck. There was no lust or delicacy with this scenario.

He just wanted to rip her head off.

As he reared his head backwards and then slashed at Abi’s neck, a large sheet of metal appeared between the apprentice and her predator. The stop sign at the other end of the road had been telekinetically ripped from its place and thrown in front of the vampire, who was currently clutching at his broken teeth and howling in pain.

From behind the window, I let out a low whistle. Ripping a large weight off a cement base required a good amount of power, the sort that Abi rarely displayed. Being succubus-adjacent, her abilities leaned more toward the manipulation of weak-willed beings. She could alter your senses and make you experience the world upside down. But this was the first time I had seen her telekinetically rip out a freakin’ road sign from its place and use it as a shield.

My apprentice had just reached new levels of awesome.

As the vampire experienced the mother of all toothaches, Abi spun around, grasped the metal pole and forced the vampire to the ground. Pausing to catch her breath, she pulled back the slide of her gun and aimed at the vampire. Like a striking rattlesnake, his hand reached up and covered the barrel of her gun, upsetting her aim. The bullet tore through his hand, reducing it to a bloody stump. Hollow-point bullets weren’t designed for penetration. Their job was to lodge in the target and expand into a large chunk of metal inside the body. They were perfect for stopping power and ripping through the hardened, armored flesh of most supernatural beings.

She quickly readjusted her aim and would have managed to reduce Scowl into dust, if not for the second vampire, who crashed into her and threw her off his companion. She hit the ground hard, her breath knocked out of her body, and struggled to get up. Both vampires were already on their feet, shakily taking their first steps. Wrench walked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, the left side of his face a raw lump of flesh and his left arm held close to his side. His torn collarbone wouldn’t allow him to move his arm as he pleased. Scowl, on the other hand, looked more pissed off than injured. His right hand was gone, leaving a stump halfway up his forearm. The bullet had torn into his left shoulder, but it was only a superficial wound. He let out a hiss, and it was clear that he had lost some teeth. Or in his case, fangs. His beak-shaped nose was broken, twisted comically to the left.

If this were a movie, the vampires would quickly regenerate and go back to being pasty-faced supermodels with too much sex drive. But this was reality. Blood begets blood—that was the vampire’s way of life. They couldn’t live without blood, nor could they heal or exhibit any of their supernatural powers.

Which was why their hunger for my apprentice doubled. Her blood was the alleviation to their pain and the regeneration of their limbs.

Abi stood up and held her weapon aloft. She only had a few shots left, not enough to stop both the vampires. She thought she could at least try to take down one, and aimed the gun at Scowl. She pulled the trigger and nothing happened. The gun let out that heartbreaking click of jammed metal, which meant the weapon was nothing more than an expensive paperweight.

Scowl gave the apprentice his trademark expression in acknowledgement of her second attempt on his life. Abi’s expression became one of horror as she realized that she was going to have to defend herself up-close and personal. Fighting in close quarters with a vampire was the worst possible scenario—they had claws, teeth, and heightened senses, allowing them to be man’s perfect predator. We have soft, juicy flesh, bone with the strength of twigs, and internal organs that are about as tough a barrier to a vampire as foil wrapping around a chocolate bar.

But my apprentice had an edge over your average Joe. She wasn’t omnipotent, although she made that mistake sometimes, unlike yours truly, who was ever so humble. But she did have magic, and she was trained by one of the best monster hunters in the world (there goes that humility again). She waited until they were only a few feet away.

In an instant she inhaled, filling her lungs with air, and let out a shriek in a sudden, quick burst.

There is an arcane form of martial arts, practiced by monks who spend their time learning how to destroy people with every part of their body, as well as meditating on how precious life is. Kiaijutsu is the art of yelling and channeling your internal energy for a devastating effect. Only the most senior of monks are allowed to practice this form of combat, and it requires decades of self-discipline, meditation and practice.

My apprentice had none of the above. But her natural powers allowed her to easily manipulate the senses of others. When you think about it, all senses lead directly to the brain, and to someone like her, that was a virtual playground.

What Abi just did was kiaijutsu on steroids. Enhanced by her magic, the sound blast was enough to send Scowl flying backwards and crashing into my car. Wrench spun wildly, as if he’d been slugger punched with a sledgehammer. Every car alarm on the road went off, filling the ungodly morning hours with a chorus only attractive to a banshee. Windows of nearby houses shattered. The one car door window the vampires had left intact met its doom as well. Even the office window, behind which Amaymon and I stood, vibrated and a thin crack slithered down its length.

Without missing a beat, she flung her gun at Wrench, using a small burst of power to direct the awkward missile straight into his groin. Vampires may be dead, and they do have supernatural resistance and all that, but the nerve endings remained intact even after their natural life was over. And no guy on Earth, living or dead, was above getting hit in the nuts.

Wrench doubled over, clearly not expecting the cheap shot. Abi reached to her side and unclipped a folding knife. Using her thumb to flick the knife open, she lunged at Wrench, grabbed his head, and she dug the knife in, trying to hack the vampire’s head off.

But magic had its cost.

Try as she might, Abi could not muster the strength to saw through the vampire’s neck. She sagged and looked like she was going to be sick. Wrench had recovered, and he swung his good fist into her ribs. Abi went flying, still holding the knife uselessly. From the way I heard her wheeze I was pretty sure Wrench had broken at least one of her ribs.

I dug my hands into the windowsill, trying hard not to rush out of the door and end my apprentice’s torment. But I had to let her suffer. It was evil of me, and I hated myself for it. But this was our reality, and she had to learn how to deal with situations like this by herself. The next Sin just might manage to kill me and the worst thing I could do to her was let her depend on me every time her life was in danger.

Meanwhile, Scowl had made his way to being bipedal again. His expression looked hazy, and blood streamed from his ears. But both vampires made their way toward the fallen succubus. This wasn’t a lesson anymore.

“Erik,” Amaymon warned.

The vamps got closer and Abi stirred. She tried to push herself off the ground, and failing that, began kicking herself away from the looming monsters above her.

“Erik,” Amaymon said again, his voice with an edge of panic.

“Go,” I replied quickly. From my peripheral vision I saw the cat vanishing out the door.

I looked back out just in time to see the vampires swinging back their arms in unison and preparing to tear into my apprentice. Their claws fell inches away from Abi, who had her eyes closed. Before breaking the first layers of her skin, the claws dissolved into ash. Both vampires remained immobile as their bodies cracked and flaked off into the light breeze.

All, except their heads, which were no longer attached.

Amaymon emerged from behind the car as a broad-shouldered teenager wearing all black, the ruby pendant around his neck—which was usually attached to his collar—and his unchanged feline eyes glowing an ominous yellow. In each hand he held their heads. Scowl’s head blinked several times, trying to make sense of the situation. Amaymon turned his palms, forcing their eyes back on my wrecked car and then back towards him.

“Engine’s at the back,” he said maliciously. He grinned, exposing his serrated, shark-like teeth and putting the vampires’ fangs to shame. “You sad pieces of shit.”

He brought the heads to eye level and calmly pressed both his hands together. With sounds that would make a seasoned surgeon throw up, he squashed the heads together, putting into it as much effort and thought as one would when squashing an orange. The whole thing took less than ten seconds but the image of Amaymon slowly squashing two severed heads together, with bone, teeth, blood and, worst of all, brain matter dribbling between his clawed fingers as he smiled maliciously, will haunt me for the rest of my life.

He rubbed his hands together, as if washing them in the soup of blood, ash and brain, and offered a gore-splattered hand to Abi. She looked away sharply and made an effort not to throw up. Amaymon looked from her hunched position to his hand.

“My, my. I wonder which one of us really deserves to be called a pussy,” he said disappointedly, before leaving her in the middle of the street and walking back towards the office. Halfway there, he began licking his hands clean, and winked at me. That’s when I almost threw up.

Taking in deep breaths, I pointed at the shrubbery and watched him revert back into a feline. He dug his stained paws in soil and entered the door I opened for him. I ignored the mud he left on my wooden floorboards. Anything was better than vampire brain-matter paw prints.

Chapter 6

“Try to hold still.”

She winced every time the thick point of the whiteboard marker came in contact with her skin. Although it might have had something to do with the small protrusion coming from her ribcage where the bone was broken. Abi’s injured side was covered in small, one-character symbols spanning from her left hip up towards her ribcage. She stood inside a circle of candles, holding up her shirt from the side. Larger symbols were drawn between each candle. That had been the easy part. The trick was drawing the minute energy-channeling symbols that had to cluster around her broken rib. Screw one up and I would have to start the whole thing over.

“I can’t, Erik. It’s an involuntary pain reaction,” she replied through clenched teeth.

I was about to reply with something sharper when Amaymon padded in silently. Abi gave him a look of both fear and disgust. After the Hannibal Lector stint with the vampires, I didn’t really blame her. Except I knew Amaymon, and there was a very good reason why I kept him on a leash.

“I can help,” he said, and got in between us.

Abi gave me a look, silently asking whether she should let him that close to her or not. I nodded.

Amaymon’s nature was a strange one. He was a monster and relished the hunt and the macabre. And yet, he was also very loyal. I theorized it was because of the contract with me. It wasn’t as simple as signing a piece of paper and abiding by it. When I first got him, the demon was just that—a demon. He wanted death, destruction and chaos. And he wanted to do it in various imaginative and graphic ways.

But demons like Amaymon, who were older than time itself, tended to be more than just harbingers of chaos. They were built upon a set of principles too, resembling more the deities of old rather than the horned depictions the Catholic Church tries to sell. It was thanks to those principles that Amaymon could serve so loyally under the Demon Emperor. Once he made his contract with me, willingly, that loyalty shifted to me. But it wasn’t as simple as helping me up when I fall down. His personality had changed, too. He had become more like me, as if someone had implanted my personality in his and removed all the inhibitors. And like his dual form, my familiar’s personality stretched to two extremes, one lusting after blood and gore, the other focusing on his role as my familiar. The problem was that sometimes these extremes were at odds with each other, and it was a psychological coin toss which one would win.

It wasn’t my life that was at stake when the vampires injured Abi, so he didn’t need to help her. The fact that he asked me, however, showed that he was becoming more… human. Or, at least, human-attuned. Which was a good thing. And he had technically saved her life.

He just did it in his own graphic manner.

I nodded at her, certain that the cat wouldn’t snap and tear both our throats out. And besides, he had very little power now that I had placed the lock back on. That ruby necklace served as a link, a receiver so to speak, and if I channeled a little power into it Amaymon got temporary access to all his former super powers. In cat mode, he still had a few left, but none that could cause major damage.

I think.

Amaymon stretched his neck toward her ribcage and began licking her injury.

The apprentice’s expression went from anguish, to repulsion, to relief. The more the cat licked, the more relaxed the girl got, slowly closing her eyes in the bliss of pain relief. I made a quick association in my head—pain relief narcotics grew from good old earth. Amaymon was an elemental of Earth, although I suspected there was more to it than that. He never discussed his power, always saying that I wouldn’t understand it, that humans cannot perceive power in the same depth that other creatures can. We were both creatures of magic, technically speaking. His was as pure a lineage as one can get, whereas my pedigree was more human than magic.

After a while, Amaymon stopped his ministrations and simply curled on his favorite spot on the couch. I applied the symbols, this time without the wincing and little jumps that threatened to jeopardize the entire spell.

“There,” I said once I had finished with the last symbol. “Sit in that circle cross-legged and keep your back straight. Just focus on channeling energy. The spell should take care of the rest.”

Abi obeyed every command to the letter, allowing only her eyes to move. “How long?” she murmured.

“Could be anywhere from a couple of hours to an entire day. Just sit still. You’re lucky to be alive,” I replied, and immediately regretted saying that.

Abi’s expression went from downcast to nearly tearful. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. It took all of her willpower not to hunch over and cry.

I felt bad. I hate it when women cry, especially if I have some sort of a bond with them. But some selfish part of me, the part born when I had to beat my own father to death, and hardened in the process of battling nightmares for a living, said that she deserved it. She deserved to feel bad. This world was no place for the weak and twice in a row she needed either me or my cat to save her life.

I told that part of me to shut up and keep its opinions to itself. Doesn’t mean it was wrong. The next time she could die and, as much as I hated seeing her like this, I would rather she be sad and alive instead of in a body bag.

This is it, I thought. This is where I had to draw the line. She was not ready to face a world where hillbilly vampires were considered to be puppy dogs. She was not ready to face her own weaknesses, let alone something as overwhelming as a demon. I had to cut her off. I would tell her that she could keep learning under me and lessons will go as usual, but no more fieldwork, no more hunts.

Not until she grew stronger.

Not until I grew stronger.

I was about to verbalize all that when I felt someone staring daggers at me from the couch. Amaymon’s feline eyes locked with mine, and I had a sinking suspicion he was tapping into my thought process. He got up, in that lethargic way only cats can muster, and sat on the armrest of the couch.

“Don’t do it,” he said, his gaze still pouring into mine. “If you cut her off, she’ll just seek solace elsewhere. You really wanna throw out a budding succubus?”

“I’m not throwing her out. Just cutting her off from hunts,” I replied.

“Which is the same as cutting her off entirely. You can make that distinction, Erik. She can’t,” argued the cat.

“You were going to cut me off?” Abi asked. She looked at me, silently asking me to reassure her, to tell her I still trusted her.

“Yes,” I told her. “You’re not ready for this.”

I might as well have stabbed her myself. It was the right thing to do, I kept telling myself. Then, my inner voice replied: if it’s the right thing, why does it feel so bad?

“Oh, now I’m not ready,” she said, no longer caring if she arched her neck. “Is that how it is? I screw up and I’m out?”

“You know that’s not true. I just don’t want to have to attend your funeral,” I shot back.

“Well, if I’m such a damn liability, why’d you take me on in the first place?” she yelled. In her tirade she had shifted her body so much I was almost sure she would break the spell.

She nearly knocked a candle over before Amaymon jumped on her lap.

“Hold still!”

Abi stopped her squirming abruptly. Her face contorted with effort as if she had trouble doing the simplest things like breathing. Amaymon was not a heavy cat—he was a magical cat.

“You’re gonna suffocate her,” I said, realizing what was going on. Using whatever power he had, the familiar had increased the gravitational pull on Abi, holding her in one place.

“It’s for her own good. Now, stop moving and just listen.” He hopped back on his perch. “Both of you nimrods, listen up.” He looked at Abi, who had shifted back to her original position and was in the process of throwing me a dirty look.

“You,” he told Abi, “need to pull your head out of your ass. You screwed up twice in a row. Any other wizard would be dead and digested by now. You got lucky. You’re not powerful enough, yet. But you could be.”

He turned to me. “You,” he said, “need to grow a pair. Stop being afraid of your own power. It’s a part of you. So what if we don’t understand it yet? Here’s an idea, Einstein, why don’t you actually try tapping into it instead of taking the cautious road?”

“I might blow someone up by accident,” I said. “Or go all super villain.”

“Man, you constantly blow stuff up. And you always claim it’s an accident. And if you were a villain, you would have gone down that road when you first started. Your old man would have been a good role model.”

He waited for me to say something. I remained silent, not entirely sure of what to say. Amaymon had a point, but his view of the world was not the same as a human’s. Demons were born with full power capacity. They were incapable of evolution.

That was what made humans so volatile—we could grow. Amaymon never understood the concept of a change of heart.

“What Abigail needs is to get stronger, and fast.” Amaymon never used Abi’s full name unless he was going to reveal something life-changingly important. “You guys can wait another couple of years and let her develop her natural powers. No doubt they would be somewhat impressive. But I doubt whoever was behind Lilith is going to give you guys a time out. So, she needs a game changer—a crutch, so to speak. She needs a boost so powerful that, with it, she would be able to hold her own against mediocre creatures easily.”

“Yeah, that would be impressive. Unfortunately magic steroids don’t exist,” I said. “Unless you live in a video game, power boosts aren’t an option. And the ones that do exist aren’t so convenient.”

“Of course they are, if you know where to look,” Amaymon replied. His tone of voice had that edge to it, which usually meant he was going to drive me up a wall before spilling out the answers. Curling his tail around himself, he turned and looked at the window where he and I had watched Abi’s bout with the vamps.

I followed his gaze.

There was nothing there. A plain sheet of glass, dust and a plant—mandrake, I think. Resting against the wall below the window was Djinn. The short sword remained where I had placed it after I rushed out to help Abi inside.

What the hell was the damn cat referring to?

It took me two more seconds to realize—crutch, power up, game changer.

Djinn.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I said, each ‘no’ louder than the last.

Amaymon let out a cute meow and turned to the apprentice. “Abi. How would you like to have a magic wand?”

Chapter 7

I did not like the idea. Which was probably an understatement considering that I just had a hissy fit in the middle of my office.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t like the idea?” Amaymon asked innocently. Abi let out a little giggle, which didn’t lighten the mood at all.

“Are you actually insane?” I raged at the cat.

“There are several schools of thought about that. And yet, I’m not the one who’s waving his arms around like a madman,” the cat replied pointedly.

“She can’t have one of those,” I said, jabbing a finger at my sword. “Do you have any idea just how dangerous those things are?”

“Yes, Erik, I do,” replied the cat with condescending tones. “Especially since the majority of the power sources used tend to be of my species.”

“Then, you know why she can’t have one.”

“Erm… excuse me?” Abi raised her hand as if this were some school session. “I’m still in the room. Can we stop talking about me like I’m some sort of mannequin?”

“Sorry,” I said, “but this is out of your league.”

“I think you’d make a great doll,” quipped the cat.

The doll in question rolled her eyes at him. “Do I at least get to know what he meant by ‘magic wand’?” she asked.

“Fine. It’s like Djinn. You get an object with a creature stuffed in it. It gives that object all the magical properties of the creature, stuff like special abilities and the rest,” I explained.

“You know, I don’t like being excluded from the conversation,” said the cat.

Both of us ignored him. “I’m still not hearing anything dangerous. Sounds like a good thing to me,” said the apprentice.

I sighed. “It is. But there’s a catch. The creature you put in has to be sentient, not your run-of-the-mill demon. It’s gotta be smart and strong, powerful enough to leave a lingering aura even when its physical body is destroyed. And it’s gotta have such magic power that the shape of the vessel won’t matter, still allowing you to channel some pretty strong stuff.”

“Not really getting the big ‘no, no, no’ point here.” Abi had some way to go when it came to drawing conclusions from facts. Then again, I may not be the best teacher around. And damn if I knew what I was talking about. This stuff was long forgotten. The last people who used channels on a regular basis were the druids, and God knows what methods they used. I bet there weren’t five people on the planet who knew how to make a proper channel from scratch.

I took a deep breath and tried to piece together what bits of information I had into a concrete sentence.

“The creature would still be alive inside, Abi. Which means it will talk and slowly seep its own consciousness into your personality.”

“So, it will try and possess me?” she asked.

“Sort of. More like try to make you its vessel, controlling you instead of you controlling it.” I sighed and gazed at my own channel. “And even if you manage to stay sane and remain yourself, there’s the constant pressure to suppress the influence.”

I looked at her. “You can barely control your own power right now,” I said. “Having a channel is just a surefire way of driving you over the edge. And there’s always the chance that the monster will cause your succubus side to run rampant.”

That made Abi lower her eyes. The apprentice was afraid of her inner demon, much as we all are. Hers was just more apparent. She struggled with control over her emotions at times. She told me about her nightmares, of losing herself and just restarting a new life as an uncontrollable predator.

“Wrong!” Amaymon looked at me and shook his head. “Man, who the hell taught you all this? It’s just sad.”

“I’m self-taught, jackass,” I shot back. “And I happen to use one myself.”

“So, how come your personality isn’t affected? Or are you already affected?” Abi asked in a low voice.

“Only one way to find out,” Amaymon said. “Djinn is actually the spirit if a genie, so-” He looked me dead in the eye, “-can I get three wishes?”

“Nah. But I can stuff the sword up your ass three times if you like.”

Amaymon glanced at the girl. “It’s the same crude idiot we all know and love. Sort of.”

“But how come it doesn’t affect you, Erik?” Abi insisted.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. You gotta understand, this is ancient stuff we’re talking about here. No one uses them anymore. Very few know how to make them, and even fewer know how to use them.”

“I know why,” Amaymon said calmly.

I gave him a sideways glance.

“What?” He gave me the feline equivalent of a shrug. “Seriously, it’s not that hard to figure out. And besides, you don’t know half of what you’re talking about.”

“Okay then, flea bag. Enlighten us,” I said. I hate it when he does this. I guess it was the alpha male in me, but I don’t want to be told I’m wrong in front of others, especially when I am supposed to be the damn teacher here.

But if working with my sister, my much smarter, more conceited and condescending sister, has taught me anything, it’s to accept knowledge when it is given. I was just beginning to figure out the true source of power. It wasn’t firepower, but rather, knowledge. It made me think that perhaps that was how I had to get stronger, since there was no way in hell I was getting powerful enough to match a Sin toe-to-toe.

“Thank you,” Amaymon said. Being a cat suited the demon. He had certainly gotten the catty side down. He cleared his throat, taking his time and basking in the attention we gave him.

“A channel is usually a weapon, since its main use back in the old days was a quick way to sling cheap and easy magic around without the strain of concentration. It allowed a wizard to fire off quick evocations and, at the same time, concentrate on bigger stuff, like a group assault. Of course, there is no rule of law here, but you get the general idea. Point number two: yes, the creature has to be sentient, but it’s not as simple as that. You need to have a compatible personality and magic type, otherwise you’ll just struggle to make the channel do anything. The point of the whole thing was to facilitate the flow of magic, and for that you need to find something for your personal type of magic. Of course, your thought process, approach to magic, lifestyle, choices and decisions, are all accountable. Did I lose anyone yet?”

He exchanged glances with both of us, questioning us with his golden orbs.

“As for the possession,” he continued, “the fact that you share your entire thought process with a magical creature makes it easier for it to slightly manipulate your actions. But, there are two ways to prevent that. The first is how Erik does it. Your magical power is so great that Djinn’s voice gets drowned in it. Sure, it’s there, but it’s basically like trying to whisper something in a dance club. And besides, the circumstances under which you acquired and used it were so traumatic that you managed to shape the Jinn to suit you, rather than the opposite. And Jinn themselves do not have personalities as we know them—they tend to be manifestations of certain emotions or thoughts. Which makes that sword the perfect weapon for you—and only you. If anyone else so much as picked it up, the Jinn inside, who now has your personality template, would instantly lash out. At least, that’s my theory.”

I gazed at Djinn, resting against the wall. I looked at it with a different perspective now, wondering what the Jinn inside felt. What would it be like, to communicate with a monster with my personality in it?

“Whoa. I’m never touching that thing again,” Abi said.

“Don’t worry,” Amaymon replied. “That sword is sentient, so it can probably read your intentions.”

“You said there were two methods,” I said.

“Yes. The other is to be in complete sync with the thing inside the channel. In other words, complete harmony. I can’t tell you how to achieve that. Everyone’s got their own method and most simply never achieve it.”

“So, you see why Abi can’t get a channel yet, right?” I said. “She’s got nowhere near the amount of juice needed to suppress the monster, harmony is nearly impossible for anyone, let alone a novice, and where the hell are we supposed to find a monster which meets her exact specifications?”

Amaymon let out a hiss. “You’re an ex-Warlock. Your family is the pioneer of that branch of magic. Your sister has an entire selection of monsters and you know everyone in town who dabbles in magic. All you have to do is look.”

“Okay, then,” I spat. “I don’t want to!” Abi gave me a disappointed look. “It’s a loaded gun. At this stage it won’t be any help. It’s too much power all at once and you can’t handle it.”

“Ever thought of letting me make that decision?” she retorted as her cheeks turned pink.

“Not if you die on my watch!” I didn’t mean to yell, but this was one point I had to get across through hell or high water. “You wanna know one thing about the monster you’re supposed to shove inside the channel? You gotta defeat it. It’s supposed to be all Zen and stuff. You know, fighting yourself and getting to know yourself better, and taking some sort of inner journey. Only thing is, no one, no matter how powerful, is certain of being able to conquer themselves. You got your ass handed to you by vampires. Twice. This is pure suicide.”

For a long time silence rang uncomfortably. Amaymon kept his eyes fixed on me as I sat on the other side of the couch from Abi. A glint caught my eye. She quickly wiped away a tear and acted as if nothing had happened. That didn’t stop her lip from quivering. Oh, great. I made the apprentice cry. All in a day’s work for Erik Ashendale.

Responsibility sucks.

“Schrodinger’s Cat.” Amaymon broke the silence, and both of us looked at him.

“That’s Abi right now. Schrodinger’s Cat.” Which did more to confuse us rather than answer the question.

“Huh?” Abi said.

“Who’s Schrodinger? Is he that plumber down the block?” I asked. Before you start judging, keep in mind that my homeschooling involved less physics and more… macabre subjects. I may not have the first clue about quantum theory, but I can tell you all about unicorns who use their horns as stabbing tools.

Needless to say, the ex-college student and the really smart cat both gave me pitying looks.

“No, Erik.” Amaymon shook his head. “It’s an experiment where a cat is placed in a box with a switch and some poison, and left there. And until the box is open you can’t know if the cat’s alive or dead.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Abi asked.

“Sounds like a good way to get rid of a cat,” I remarked with a snicker.

“Good luck finding a poison I don’t find delicious,” shot back the cat.

“Is that why you were eating the belladonna bush the other day?” Abi questioned.

“Yes. It tastes like chicken. Can we get back to the subject at hand?” he said. “What I meant was that Abi is just like the cat. There’s no way to figure out the extent of her power by simply putting her in danger. Perhaps her power just doesn’t work that way. I think Abi’s power lies within her mind and psychic abilities, rather than elemental manipulation. And there is just no way to figure out what that is by tests. It has to be a ‘do or don’t do’ situation.”

“Okay, Yoda,” I replied. “What do you suggest?”

“Take her to Sun Tzu’s. He’s got that special place we can use. But you gotta know how to approach the apprentice, Erik,” he said as he eyed Abi.

“Let’s make a small bet,” he continued. “If you can’t make it, if you pull the plug on this, then you stay away from danger. You follow the boss’s instructions to the letter and no bitching. But if you walk out of there with a channel, Erik has to take you along on cases unless there is a special circumstance. You’ll have proven your worth and graduate from an apprentice to a wizard. Or witch, in your case. You’ll still be a student, but at least we won’t be stuck repeating the same boring basics.”

“Hey, hey. Since when do you run the show?” I snapped at him.

“Since you’re more worried about keeping her alive rather than teaching her how to do it herself,” shot back the cat.

Ouch. Talk about hitting the nail on its head.

“And,” he continued to Abi, “we can go visit that new place you’ve been dying to visit two streets down.”

“Stay out of my room,” she huffed at him. “But, yeah. I’ll take the bet.” She looked at me. “You?”

This may be exactly what she needed. A final test, which convinced everyone that she was able to handle such power. If she did fail, I wouldn’t have a guilt trip every time I left her behind. And there was no way I was going to visit some stupid bar or club or whatever place she wanted to go. Whatever it was, it was bound to be loud, full of drunken idiots and modern music that seemed to have been written in an alien language by a toaster oven.

Whatever happened to classic rock?

“Fine. I’ll take it,” I said as we shook hands. “I’ll give you a week to train. And since he’s so partial to it, Amaymon gets to watch over you. So, if you fail, you can pin some of it on him. You are to stay here, work hard, and one week from now we go to Sun Tzu’s.”

“What is Sun Tzu’s?” she asked.

“Sun Tzu’s Noodle shop. It’s a Chinese restaurant with an underground magic supply trade,” Amaymon interjected. “Best place in town for certain frowned-upon products. And the sweet and sour pork is off the hook, too.”

“So, who’s this Sun Tzu?” she asked.

Amaymon let out a laugh. “What the hell do you kids use the Internet for these days?”

“You use it for porn,” I sniped at him.

“That’s research,” he shot back defensively, before turning back to Abi. “He’s an old Chinese general, famous for pioneering battle tactics which are still used nowadays. He’s got quite a history.”

“Yeah, but what’s so special about him?” she insisted.

Both Amaymon and I chuckled. “You’ll see,” I said.

Chapter 8

Sun Tzu’s place looked just like any other Chinese restaurant. The front window had the menu in both English and Mandarin, stenciled Chinese characters with rounded edges on the side and those large, red, circular lanterns hanging around the entire place. If there’s one thing the old man had gotten down, it was the gimmick. Then again, he did have more experience than the entire Chinese population in California put together.

Our entrance was announced by the ringing of a bell. The place looked like it could accommodate maybe thirty patrons, which was how Sun Tzu liked it. Less trouble for him. Four elderly Asian men slurping from china cups looked up at us as we entered. They nodded and resumed their meal. This wasn’t the first time they saw the strange wizard with the long, black trench coat and a matching cat at his feet. Though the hot redhead by my side was probably a first for them.

“Ah, Erik.” Sun Tzu came out from the kitchen and slowly walked towards me. He looked exactly like one of those wizened Kung Fu masters in Chinese flicks—gray-white hair that came to his neck, a bald patch on his head and a thin Jackie-Chan’s-Uncle-from-the-cartoons beard and mustache. He wore a dark blue Chinese uniform—whatever they call them—and walked with the slow, patient step of a man well past his prime. Yet he never lost his balance and his very presence was enough to instill a sense of grace and harmony in the place. He approached me and gave me a loving hug, one that I returned.

“Welcome to my place, my young friend. How can I help you today?” His voice wasn’t raspy or throaty but rather had a strength to it which conveyed power and confidence. But despite all that, he had a loving tone, like a parent seeing his child once more. Which was true to an extent, I suppose.

After I’d moved here, all messed up after Tenzin had died and all I had was an empty office and an even emptier heart, I had come across Sun Tzu’s in an attempt to find a place which catered to my particular needs. Turned out Sun Tzu was more than just a shopkeeper. The guy was genuinely nice, a great listener, and gave words of wisdom which were actually helpful instead of cryptic.

“I have an apprentice now,” I said.

He smiled and peered at Abi, who averted her gaze shyly. He kept staring at her.

“Ah, yes. She is special, indeed. Although this is hardly surprising. Special people tend to be attracted to each other by fate,” he mused. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss…?”

“Abigail,” she replied, and shook his fragile-looking hand. “Abi for short,” she added with a nervous laugh.

Sun Tzu’s eyes twinkled. “My dear, when you get to be as old as me, you’ll come to realize that patience is the best of virtues. And besides, Abigail is a beautiful name.” He bowed slightly.

I noticed Abi’s eyes darken, usually a look she reserved for drunken frat boys in clubs who hit on her like someone’s paying them for it. I leaned over and whispered, “He’s not coming on to you. That’s his way of being polite. Now, bow back.”

She bowed slightly and Sun Tzu’s expression lit up.

“What up, Grandpa?” Amaymon said. Normally, I wouldn’t take Amaymon out to a restaurant. He was rude and a glutton.

And a talking cat.

I glanced over to the other patrons.

One of them gave me a blank look, before returning to his game of mahjong. Something told me this wasn’t exactly their first encounter with the supernatural. I had no idea what patronage frequented Sun Tzu’s, but if they were anything like me, talking cats were considered less horrifying and more… cute.

Sun Tzu crouched down slowly and scratched the cat on its head. “Ah, talking kitty is here, too.”

Amaymon let out a satisfied purr.

“I’ll put some noodles out for you,” Sun Tzu cooed.

“You’re the best, Gramps,” Amaymon replied.

“Come, come. Sit,” insisted the old man as he half-dragged us to an empty table. He craned his neck and yelled out something in his native tongue. A black guy, complete with an afro, popped his head out from the curtain of beads separating the kitchen from the main restaurant.

“Got it,” he yelled before disappearing and reappearing again with a tray. He placed the stuff on our table and stood there, awaiting introductions.

“Eddie here has been kind enough to help out in exchange for tutelage,” Sun Tzu explained.

I eyed Eddie. He looked like he belonged in a 70’s disco, with his ridiculously large afro. In contrast with his dark skin, his purple Chinese suit shone like a searchlight. He flashed me a cheesy smile.

“Hey, man, you’re Erik, right?” he said as he extended his arm. I shook it and nodded. “Man, it’s so cool to meet you. Heard a lot of stories about you.”

He gave Amaymon—who had climbed on the table and dipped his head in the bowl of noodles—a raised eyebrow before setting his eyes on Abi.

“Oh, damn.” He quickly brushed his hands and swallowed hard. “I’m Eddie.”

“Abi,” she replied.

Eddie blinked twice at her. “Girl, you single?” he said as he raised his eyebrows hopefully.

Abi burst out laughing in his face. I tried, and failed, to hide my snicker. I mean, come on, is this what courting has come to? One handshake and a pick-up line from the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?

Sun Tzu calmly raised his hand and smacked his student across the back of his head.

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie said as he backed away. “Damn, that girl is fine.”

Once he left, Sun Tzu made apologies on his behalf. “If he made the same effort to train as he does chasing after women, he’d best me as a warrior.”

Abi sipped her tea. “I’m a succubus. Or part succubus. Not really sure myself. But that tends to happen often around me.”

“Ah, I see.” Sun Tzu nodded. “Erik, may I ask why you are here today?”

I looked at the cat. “This was your idea. So, explain it to him.”

The cat looked up from the noodles and sat down in the middle of the table. In a few breaths, he explained the entire situation to Sun Tzu. The wizened old man simply stroked his beard and traced his finger gently around his china cup, never averting his gaze from the cat.

When Amaymon finished, Sun Tzu gazed at me knowingly. “I can help with your apprentice. But I would also like to talk to you in private once you have the chance. I shall make preparations to see if anything in my collection meets your specifications, Abigail.” He gave us a slight bow and called Eddie again.

“Please prepare the basement for a selection process.”

Eddie gave a stern nod and dashed back inside.

Sun Tzu stood up. “Long, would you please mind the shop for a while?” he directed to the group of patrons who had ignored us this entire time.

One of them, the tallest, with a pencil-thin figure and a long chin, raised his hand—a long and wiry thing with curved fingernails—and with deliberate calm placed a mahjong tile in place. He muttered something in Chinese.

Some zoologists say that the frequency of a lion’s roar triggers something in the human brain—a long-dormant alarm bell which sends us running away screaming from a predator which can swallow us whole. I’ve seen things that make lions as much of a threat as a fichus. Even my cat, sitting two feet away from me, was more dangerous than I could even begin to understand.

But when Long spoke, the rumble of his voice struck against my very soul, and it was all I could do not to wet myself. Amaymon had stopped stuffing his face to look at him with predatory eyes. Even Abi took an unconscious step backwards.

“Hey, Amaymon, isn’t Long Chinese for-” I began.

“Dragon, yes,” he finished for me. We both looked at each other, and then back at the man in question.

Sun Tzu muttered a thank you in Chinese and saw our expressions. “Oh, don’t mind him. He likes to show off.” With a chuckle, he beckoned us to follow him.

Abi grabbed my sleeve and held me back.

“What the hell is this place?” she exhaled, her teeth clattering as she tried very hard not to shake uncontrollably. With a hard expression, she continued. “I’m not backing out or anything, but at least tell me who these people are. That guy over there let out one vowel and I was ready to run away screaming.”

“I’ve got no idea who those guys are. This is the first time I’ve seen them. Or perhaps they’ve always been there and I never noticed them,” I explained. “This is a shop that caters to people like us, Abi, so expect some strange and scary folks out here.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she said. “But that guy can’t be Sun Tzu. I googled him after you guys mentioned him last week and there’s no way that’s the same guy. He’d be thousands of years old.”

Amaymon hopped from the table and began following Sun Tzu. “Occam’s Razor, Abi. The obvious answer is usually the correct one.”

She gave me a horrified look. “That’s the real Sun Tzu? How?”

“I’d guess he’s immortal in some way,” I said.

“Is he some sort of god?” she asked as we began following Sun Tzu to the basement.

“Nope. No god is able to keep a human form for that long. And he’s no demon or angel either. I think he’s the next best thing to a god.”

“What would that be?” she asked.

“My guess, an avatar.”

Chapter 9

The basement was huge, almost twice the size of an aircraft hangar. On the far side of the right wall, a large computer screen dominated the entire wall. Other electronic components and gadgets were spread across the large workbench that ran along the length of the wall. It looked like something out of a sci-fi flick, and I seriously expected aliens with bulbous heads and eyes to appear out of a hidden door.

“What is this place?” Abi asked as she eyed the leviathan space.

“This is a training facility, a laboratory, and a storage room,” Sun Tzu said. He slowly made his way to the computer. “Over here we shall see if I happen to have something suited for your particular needs.”

I looked around. Supposedly, Sun Tzu had an entire collection of monsters and magical memorabilia, the likes of which were never collected before. At least that was the word on the street. And yet, in this supposed ‘storage room’, all I saw were bare walls and a computer as big as the first one ever built.

“Where are the monsters?” I asked.

Sun Tzu chuckled. “Monsters?” he repeated. “I suppose I did allow the rumors to get out of hand. There are no monsters here, my dear friend, other than the ones we bring with us.”

“Huh?” Abi and I said in unison.

“I have no monsters here,” he said. His storm-gray eyes poured directly into mine. “I am no Warlock, Erik. My methods are much more ancient. I simply have a collection, which happens to include certain items which may suit your apprentice.”

“So, no channels?” Amaymon said. “No wonder this place looks so barren.”

Sun Tzu let out short, annoyed breath. “Ah. No, no channels. Nothing like Erik’s Djinn sword.”

I tapped the handle of my short sword absent-mindedly. “I thought Amaymon specified a channel.” I shifted my weight uncomfortably. I had this sinking feeling Sun Tzu was not telling me the whole truth and it felt like betrayal. I mean, my entire family was one skeleton in a closet after the other. I thought I could trust Sun Tzu—guess that showed me.

“Yes, he was specific.” The elderly man sat down on the leather swivel chair in front of the computer and turned to face us. “But I cannot provide one,” he said as he clasped his hands together. “I simply do not have the materials for it.”

“But you know who does,” I said.

“Yes. I suspect your sister may have what you are looking for. But not even she can provide a channel since she does not know the method for such magic,” he replied.

“And you do?”

“Yes.”

I folded my arms. “Then, if we were to get a monster, will you be able to do the ritual and create this channel?”

“I could.”

“But you won’t.”

“No, I would not.”

“And why the hell not?” Abi burst out.

Sun Tzu turned his gaze to her and gave her a stern look. The girl shuddered violently and shrank back.

“Because, my dear,” Sun Tzu said with a deliberate calm, “you are too immature to handle such power.” He held up a hand to silence me. He seemed to know that I would argue, that we had already gone through this and had reached a decision.

“You neither have the power, nor the knowledge for it,” he continued. “A channel is not a mere weapon. It is a part of the user’s soul clad inside the object. It carries great strengths and terrible weaknesses. For someone at your level, it would surely sabotage you.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath. “What you seek is a weapon. That, I can provide. But only that shall I provide today, until I deem you worthy of handling a channel of my creation.”

For a long time, no one said anything.

“Hey, hey.” The loud voice was accompanied by the sudden appearance of a loud, purple uniform and an afro. Eddie burst in, swaggering.

“Am I-” He froze on the spot, taking in the tense situation, “-interrupting? What’s up with you guys? You all tense and stuff.”

Sun Tzu beckoned him over with a wave of his hand.

“We’ll take it,” Amaymon said. All of us looked at him, and he turned his feline orbs toward Abi and me.

“We’ll take whatever weapon he offers Abi,” he said. “I’ve trained her for a week like you said, Erik, but after listening to Gramps over there I’m not so sure that she can handle it. Besides, a weapon is exactly what we want. If it comes without risk, all the better.”

Sun Tzu nodded. “Very well. I shall open our vault,” he told Eddie.

Slowly, the Asian man stood up and gracefully walked over to a wall, devoid of decoration. He placed his hand over the wall and murmured something indecipherable in his native tongue. From his palm, a small bead of light spread further and further, like a spider’s web. The light branched out in different directions, bending sharply at intervals to create boxes. Soon, the entire wall was divided into thousands of squares, outlined by a ray of light. The wall went from blank to a lit-up chessboard.

“A safety deposit box vault,” Amaymon commented. “There must be thousands, or tens of thousands, of objects in there.”

“I’m sure that with this selection, we can find something which suits your needs,” Sun Tzu said. “But first, we must assess your power. The more information we can have, the better we can narrow down the selection.”

“And how do we do that?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” Sun Tzu replied simply. Smiling at my confused look, he added, “I, myself, have never done it. I am not competent to assess her power properly. I shall leave that to one of my associates.” Sun Tzu closed his eyes and fell silent.

We both heard it at the same time: a sound, as if a thousand blackboards were being scratched at the same time and a million radios exploding with static. The world spun, and I lost track of where was up or down, left or right. Pain seared inside my head, overloading my senses like someone driving a knife inside my brain and scraping a hole from end to end. Then, a familiar sensation washed over me. In my head, I saw a red sky, red sand, and a red world. In the middle, looming in view, were large, black mangroves, each trunk twice the size of my chest.

I was snapped back to reality, and the first thing I saw were thick, black bars in front of my eyes. I quickly realized that I had my own fingers digging into my forehead, deep enough to draw blood. Black mist shrouded my body and slowly began creeping over every inch of me. My mind went into instant panic mode—this was my power.

Whatever Sun Tzu had done triggered the mysterious power asleep within me. This was the same power that emerged when Lust had killed me the first time around. Whatever it was, it had deemed Sun Tzu on par with one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

My ears caught the screaming coming from my side. Abi was on her knees, her hands gripping her hair and shrieking like a mad woman. She turned her maddened eyes on Sun Tzu.

“You! No. NO. STAY AWAY.” She spun and screamed before throwing herself to the side, away from me.

At the entrance of the basement stood one of the four mahjong-playing Asian men I saw when we entered. This one wore a pencil mustache and a thin goatee. His hair was tousled and unkempt. He had a fighter’s physique, thick muscles lining every inch of his body. In his black Chinese suit with thick, white stripes, he looked like a crosswalk—a crosswalk with mean eyes and the readiness to fight. He stood by the doorway, alert and ready, but never moving a muscle.

Sun Tzu—old and weak-looking Sun Tzu—took one step and in a flash crossed the distance from where he stood to where Abi continued to bang her head against the ground and scream her lungs out. He moved so fast it left a small afterimage where he had been standing moments before. If my eyes weren’t enhanced beyond normal thanks to my new powers I would have missed him entirely. He stopped an inch away from Abi and swiped her hands away, wrestling to grab her head.

My first instinct was to protect my apprentice. I would have probably hesitated in any other circumstance. I mean, the old man had been my confidant in times of need. He was the one I turned to when my life seemed as though it would crumble into nothing. I would have never thought of hurting him. Under normal circumstances, my mind would have been torn between protecting my apprentice and not harming my friend.

But this was why my power scared the living crap out of me. It had a mind of its own. It reacted to my first instinct, and before I knew it, I was driving my hand, fingers pressed together and extended, hard and fast at the old man’s chest. The shadows had grown thicker around my palm, extending a little beyond my outstretched fingertips and congregating into a point. I wanted nothing more than to impale the elderly Asian with my bare hand.

I felt my fingers make contact with him. Sun Tzu had pressed his forehead against Abi’s and was muttering again. He didn’t block my strike. He didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, completely ignoring me. When my fingers met him, nothing happened. I pushed with all my might, but my fingers refused to go through him. I might as well have been poking him playfully for all the reaction he showed.

Slowly, Abi’s screams stopped, and Sun Tzu allowed her to slide down to the ground. Sun Tzu took a step backwards and reappeared where he had originally stood, a few feet away from us. I was ready to attack him again when he curved into a deep bow. I froze in mid-punch, clearly understanding the sign as a white flag. Something in me wanted to drive my fist through his head, to take advantage of his vulnerable position. It took considerable effort on my part to lower my hand and push the thought away.

Slowly, the shadows thinned out, but refused to leave completely. I doubled my concentration and forced them away. It was like trying to swim in mud, and still, some wisps of darkness clung to me.

Satisfied with my return to full humanity, I crouched down to check on Abi. She grabbed onto my coat, pulling me close.

“I saw it,” she said fervently. “I saw them! They’re monsters, Erik, all of them. They have power—oh my God, the power. They can kill us, Erik, destroy us completely. They are bigger than this world, bigger than the universe itself.”

She stared at the mean-looking Asian by the doorway and I felt her shivering in my arms. “Sun Tzu and that guy aren’t human. They don’t belong here. Their power, it’s beyond anyone’s I’ve ever met. Even yours.” She pointed at Sun Tzu. “It’s like he’s alive everywhere, he knows all the things in the universe. He can make one, Erik. He can make an entire world and snuff it out.”

I stroked her head and helped her up.

“What the hell did you do?” I snarled at Sun Tzu.

The latter still bowed. “My apologies. I merely called Tiger over. I never meant to cause either of you any harm.”

Abi steadied herself and let go of my coat. “I’m okay now. I’m okay,” she rasped. “What was that?” she directed at Sun Tzu.

“I used a small portion of my power to call Tiger over. He can help you with your selection,” Sun Tzu said. “When I saw the anguish I caused you, I immediately rushed over to rectify it.” He bowed again. “My deepest apologies. I did not mean to cause you harm. But I underestimated both of you and for that, I humbly apologize as well.”

“That was some interesting power you used there, Gramps,” Amaymon said. The cat had remained silent and stationery throughout the whole exchange.

“Did you know what was going on?” I asked him.

“Yes, I knew. But I couldn’t react or do anything since I’m stuck in this weak body,” he replied with disgust.

“I merely beckoned my associate over,” Sun Tzu said softly. “It should have remained unnoticed since my powers are on a vastly different scale than either of yours. The fact that both of you could not only perceive them, but also react, means that I have underestimated just how powerful the both of you are.”

He fell silent and hunched over in a fit of coughing. “Is this the power inside you, Erik?” I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to himself or asking me outright.

“Yeah. This is kinda why I needed to see you, apart from Abi’s channel,” I said.

“Ah, I see. Then, it is imperative now, more so than before, that we speak. But first, I must see to your apprentice,” he said. “Abigail, I am sure that you have no idea of the significance of what you just experienced. You managed to tap into my mind, my very nature, and that is why you collapsed the way you did. It was necessary for me to erase those images from your mind lest you remain incapacitated for the rest of your life. But the fact that you not only felt, but interacted with such a power, shows that you have more potential than any of us think, even your mentor.”

He raised his hand slightly. “I cannot explain the nature of my power, because no one, not even Amaymon, will fully understand it. But I can say that it takes an extraordinary mind to gaze upon my true nature. Demons, angels and humans alike would have probably died on the spot or at least had their minds destroyed.”

He looked at Tiger. “It seems that there has been a change of plans. Please call Phoenix over.”

Tiger nodded once and left from where he had come from.

“Abigail,” Sun Tzu went on. “I may have been wrong with regards to my decision. I would like for you to have a proper channel, after all. And I believe I have the perfect candidate right here.”

Chapter 10

“You sure about that, Mr. Tzu?” I heard Eddie whisper to Sun Tzu. The two were hunched over a console as the computer buzzed to life, leaving myself and Abi just standing there. Amaymon took it upon himself to wade silently over and hop onto the workbench, curling around in an empty space.

“Why, yes,” replied the elder. “Yes, I have been convinced that Abigail is capable of handling it. And it would be a shame to keep the poor thing locked for another sixty years now, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that. Instructions exist for a reason,” Eddie countered. “Who knows what that thing will do?”

“My dear boy, the world is changing. You are changing. Ancient laws must make way for modern circumstances,” Sun Tzu said sweetly. Eddie gave a brief bow before resuming his tapping on the keyboard.

“Erik, Abigail,” Sun Tzu called. “Would you please come over here?”

The chair he indicated looked like something out of a torture chamber. It had more wires coming out if it than one of those World War II computers. Sun Tzu grasped Abi’s arm and calmly led her to the chair, where he began sticking pads on her hands, arms, chest and forehead.

“This is a method for reading your aura, the energy radiating from within you,” Sun Tzu explained as he worked. “Eddie is quite talented at these calculations and it saves you from having to be… assessed… by Tiger.”

“What was up with that guy anyway?” I asked.

Sun Tzu flashed me an innocent smile. “Some things are better left to their own devices.”

Eddie cleared his throat. “We’re good to go. Everything’s A-okay. All that’s left is for you to break the seal.”

Sun Tzu quietly hobbled over to the segmented wall and once more put his hand on the center. The square circumferences receded into his palm and then spread out until a large circle of light glowed intensely in the middle of the wall. The stone within the circle wavered and rippled wildly.

Just like a portal, I thought.

From it, a large circular object, six times the height of Sun Tzu, came out one inch at a time. Once it settled on the ground with a resounding boom, I quickly realized it was a cauldron—the mother of all cauldrons—with a large lid on the top. All around it were chains, like the kind that ships use for their anchors, each link about as thick as my wrist and as wide as my palm. The ends conjoined to a locket in the middle—a neat, elliptical chunk of metal with a glass front. Inside, I could see fire more intense than I’ve ever conjured. It burned a bright white, its luminosity making it painful to look at directly.

“All that is left now is to wait for Phoenix to open the lock,” Sun Tzu said as he patted one of the chains.

From behind me, I felt an intense heat, as if someone had set off a small open fire and immediately doused it.

“I’m here,” I heard as I tried not to jump away in fright.

Behind me, another of the four Chinese men I saw upstairs appeared, this one with a beak-shaped nose, piercing black eyes and slicked-back hair the color of ash. He had his arms tucked into the opposite sleeve of his uniform. When he exhaled, a small burst of ash was sent into the atmosphere. He wore a uniform of bright crimson, reflecting the light from the consoles and on the wall. Phoenix—at least that’s who I assumed he was—cocked his head sharply to one side like a bird, and smiled at me in a way that made my skin crawl.

“Man, you are one creepy dude,” I remarked. It was probably not a good idea to mess with these people, whatever they were, but I couldn’t help it. I tended to lash out when I was scared, confused and creeped-out. Phoenix simply ignored me and calmly walked over to Sun Tzu.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was raspy as if his throat hadn’t been formed right. “Tiger is not happy about releasing it. Of course, Dragon was quite amused.”

Sun Tzu sighed. “Are they bickering again?”

Phoenix let out a shrill, high-pitched laughed that sounded like glass shattering. “Ha. No. Turtle is keeping them busy with the game.”

“That’s good. Turtle was always the peaceful one,” Sun Tzu said. He looked at me and gave me a nod. “We must attend to matters at hand, Phoenix. It was my decision to release it.”

Phoenix bowed sharply with just his neck. That guy must have vertebrae like bubble gum. “I understand. I shall, however, keep watch, since I am the only being capable of generating the Sealing Flame.”

He turned and placed both his hands on the locket. Slowly, he pulled himself towards it until his lips touched the glass, and exhaled loudly. It felt as if a volcano went off. For a few seconds I couldn’t breathe, my throat too dry to swallow.

And then, it was over.

Sun Tzu stood there, clearly unaffected by whatever Phoenix had done. The latter backed away and stood quietly in a corner. Sun Tzu gave Abi and me an apologetic look.

“Some things are better left to their own devices, huh?” I said. The old Chinese man simply gave me a slight bow.

“Abigail, please come over here,” Sun Tzu said. “Erik, you and I must go upstairs and leave Abigail in the hands of Phoenix and Eddie. I assure you, she will be completely safe.” He spread his arms and the light circle vanished. From his body, he emitted an intense, bright light, enveloping the entirety of the basement.

“This area is now an extension of my own body. I shall be able to leave this place, but at the same time still have a presence here,” he said.

“What is this thing?” I asked. “I mean, whatever it is has that guy over there feeling all cautious.” I pointed at Phoenix.

“You shall see. It’s about to come out,” Sun Tzu replied.

It started with the loud clanking of chains. They receded into the cauldron, and the lid dissolved into nothingness. A loud roar burst out as hot air met the cool atmosphere. And then came the shrieking. A dark figure, about the size of a man, shot out from the caldron and into plain view, shrieking all the way.

“Erik, Abigail, Amaymon, meet the Monkey King, Sun Wo Kung,” Sun Tzu introduced.

The shape took a man’s form, dressed in spotted leopard skin and random chunks of armor. In his hands he spun a golden staff, twirling it around his body using his hands, feet and tail. As he stood, I noticed he had hands instead of feet and the distinctive simian face, as well as pale, golden fur. He began pacing around, spinning in circles and around his staff.

“WhereamI, whereamI?”

He spoke in a fast-paced manner, in short bursts of breath, as if he had spent his entire life drinking coffee. He set his eyes on Abi and dashed over to her before she could even so much as flinch.

“Youyesyou. Shallweplayagame, shallweshallwe?” He literally jumped on her chair, grasping the armrests with his feet—hands, whatever—and crouched down on her. He pressed his face against hers, huffing out breaths. Acting on instinct, I unsheathed Djinn and swung the blade toward the strange beast. Metal met metal as the Monkey King stopped my strike with the staff he held in his tail.

“Someone needs a chill pill,” I said.

Sun Wo Kung looked at me sharply, stuck his tongue out and blew, covering me in spit. He pointed a finger at me and screeched “Ugly!” before he returned to huffing in Abi’s face.

“Son of a bitch,” Amaymon said as he burst out laughing. “I like this guy already.”

The Monkey King jumped off of Abi, doing a wide backflip. He pointed at the cat. “Kitty. Kittymakesgooddinner. Wanttoeatkitty, wanttoeatkitty.”

Amaymon stopped laughing at that and hissed loudly. Sun Wo Kung ignored him as he noticed Phoenix and stopped vibrating on the spot.

“Birdie. Birdieisasshole,” he said in a low voice. “Idon’tlikebirdie. Birdiegivesmeburns.”

“And I shall give you some more if you cease to behave adequately,” Phoenix coldly replied.

But Sun Wo Kung had already moved on to Sun Tzu and wrapped his arm around him. “IlikeyouFangy. Fangymademefreeagain. Butthesepeopledon’tknowwhatFangyisright? Don’tyouworry. MonkeywillkeepFangy’ssecrettohimself.”

“And I greatly appreciate that,” Sun Tzu said as he patted him on the head. Only then did I notice a golden circlet around Sun Wo Kung’s head.

“I shall leave you to play a game with Abigail. And if you lose, you will have to do what she says. You will have to be her friend,” Sun Tzu continued.

“Yes. Yesyesyes.”

Sun Tzu’s eyes seemed to twinkle as he smiled at the monkey man before turning to my apprentice. “Abigail, he’s all yours. Do be careful. His nature is that of a trickster.”

“Yeah, one who needs decaf,” I replied, smirking at my own joke.

“That was weak, Erik. Not half as funny as him calling you ugly,” Amaymon shot back.

“Can it, kitty. Or shall I leave you here for him, in case he needs a snack?”

“Sore loser.”

I turned to Abi, who had gotten up and removed all those wires and pads. “Sure you’re ready for this?”

She gave the Monkey King a hard look. “Yes. I’ve trained for it. Besides, I have a feeling Sun Tzu wouldn’t let me take him on if he didn’t trust me.”

“Indeed,” Sun Tzu said. “We must vacate the room so that Abigail may begin. I wish you luck, my dear. Erik, Amaymon, I believe a proper cup of tea and a chat is in order.” And with that, he walked toward the entrance.

“Good luck,” I said as I raised my fist.

She bumped hers with mine. “You, too.”

Chapter 11

We sat down at a table. Sun Tzu provided a bowl of noodles and those rice crackers dipped in oil that everyone loves. I tried hard not to stare too much at the other table, where Long and Tiger were slapping mahjong tiles as they exchanged dirty looks with one another. A portly Chinese man built like a barrel with a shaved head, bushy eyebrows and a forest-green Chinese suit, sat between them and faced me directly. He caught me staring at them and waved enthusiastically, smiling like a dental commercial. It wasn’t even a fake smile—the man seemed genuinely jolly.

So this was Turtle, I presumed.

Sun Tzu sat down, interrupting my awkward nonverbal introduction to Turtle, and settled two whiskey glasses in front of us. He uncapped a whiskey bottle, filled the glasses, and swallowed the amber liquid from his glass.

“I thought Asians were supposed to drink sake,” I said as I noticed the American label on the bottle. I took a sip, letting the booze burn through my throat and settle in my stomach in a warm, familiar sensation.

Sun Tzu let out a small burst of laughter. “Sake is the Japanese name for rice wine. And no, I prefer something different. When it comes to alcohol and firearms, nothing beats American.”

I nodded, raised my glass, and met his in midair.

“Do I get some, too?” Amaymon’s voice was muffled, with noodles wrapped around his whiskers.

“No. Last thing I need is a drunk version of you,” I replied.

“Just for that I’m eating all the noodles.”

“You would have eaten them anyway.”

“True.”

I snatched a rice cracker and munched on it. It was not a good idea to drink on an empty stomach, and considering I hadn’t had a proper meal since the previous day, I tried to fill up so that I wouldn’t make too much a fool of myself.

“You said you wanted to talk?” I said to Sun Tzu.

He set down his glass and refilled it, his storm-gray eyes never leaving mine. “Yes. I wanted to discuss that strange ability you used downstairs.”

“Look, Sun Tzu, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hit you, I just panicked. From where I was standing it looked like you were killing her or something,” I said.

Sun Tzu raised his hand. “It’s fine. I completely understand. It is only natural to want to protect those you love. I would be a fool to hold that against you.”

I nearly choked on my whiskey. “Love? Nah, she’s just my apprentice.”

“And that is a form of love, my dear friend. Now, why don’t you tell me all about your ability?” he asked.

“There’s not much to explain,” I replied. “Amaymon did tell you all about Lust, right?” He nodded. “Well, that’s it really. When she killed me, I got sent to another dimension or something and saw this huge black tree. There was some strange creature there, never saw anything like it.”

“You were sent to Ashura. It’s a small plane, very close to ours. The Ashendales razed it clean of all life, back in the day,” Amaymon said. “What you saw was most likely a manifestation of your soul. But I don’t know why Ashura specifically, or why you are the only one who can go there when it’s off limits to everyone else. It doesn’t even register on the maps, so to speak.”

“Why do you say a manifestation of the soul?” Sun Tzu asked.

“I see that damn tree every time I access my power,” I replied. “It’s like I get pulled there but I never really leave.” I took another swig of booze, hoping that the alcohol intake could make sense out of that last sentence.

It didn’t.

“It seems that something is pulling at your soul, and using this power of yours is triggering it,” Sun Tzu said.

“Why can’t it just pick up a phone and say it outright?” I grumbled. Sun Tzu didn’t answer, but poured me another glass. The way this conversation was heading, I was going to need a designated driver by the time I left.

“What are the specifics of this power?” Sun Tzu asked.

“Shadows, it seems. Black stuff. Reinforces matter and transmutes it on a whim. As far as I can tell, it’s some form of armor.”

Amaymon looked at me. “You’re kidding, right? That’s the best you could come up with?” He shook his head, throwing noodles everywhere. “It’s obvious that those ‘shadows’ are energy, the purest kind. They respond to your most basic instincts and constantly evolve with the user.”

Sun Tzu directed his next question to the cat. “Do you have any idea as to the type of energy it is?”

“Life magic.”

Sun Tzu raised his eyebrows. “Life Magic? Impossible. That is the earliest magic in the universe, the power to create and change life itself. It is the power of the gods, not mankind.”

“You explain this situation, then,” Amaymon challenged. “When an asmodaii gave this idiot a hole the size of a plate in his chest, an archangel grabbed a fistful of anima particles and shoved them inside him. And then, lo and behold, the idiot walks right back up as if nothing had happened. I’m telling you, that’s Life magic. I don’t know how but that’s the only logical explanation I got.”

“Magic like that does not suddenly appear,” Sun Tzu said. “Surely there must have been other incidents.”

Amaymon turned his head towards me. “Erik?”

“I don’t remember any,” I said.

“Let us be the judge of that,” replied the cat.

“What are you talking about, kitty?”

Amaymon let out a soft hiss. “I’ve been dying to hear your full story. I wanna know what happened from the moment you first used magic, to how the curse manifested. I’m sure there’s a hint there somewhere. Gramps is right. This kinda power is usually the first to show. So spill.”

I gave the cat a dirty look. “You remember our deal when I first got you? No questions asked. Especially about my past. I had a horrible childhood. I repressed most of it, and I’m not about to open that can of worms again.”

Sun Tzu cleared his throat, gaining my attention. “But, my friend, there will be a time when you will wish you had dealt with it. Your past may contain clues as to how to better control this new manifestation. And if not for yourself, you owe it to the world to use this power against the enemies who wish to destroy it. You owe it to Abigail.”

Good one, old man. Play the guilt card.

Heaviness settled on my chest, and even after two refills it wouldn’t go away. Damn Chinese and their philosophies. Leave it to the cat and the mentor to lay a guilt trip on me. And using Abi, the person I wanted to protect the most, as leverage. Was I that transparent to the world?

I crossed my arms, pouting. “Fine. But even if I wanted to get psychoanalyzed, I still don’t remember much. It’s called a repressed memory for a reason.”

Sun Tzu calmly reached out and tapped my arm in encouragement. “It’s okay, my friend. I’m sure that once you start, your memory won’t fail you.”

I immediately felt a small wave of power wash over me, and a thousand soothing voices reassured me that life was fine and all the worries I had were for nothing. I felt my mind at ease as if I’d taken the most powerful narcotic in the world. I wasn’t sure whether I was mentally floating or actually levitating on the chair in reality. I still wasn’t sure what he did to me, but strangely enough, I didn’t complain or fight back. I trusted Sun Tzu, and he had yet to give me a reason to doubt him. And besides, if there was any danger, I’m sure my old buddy, the black tree, would flash in front of my eyes once more and ruin my day. Perhaps not fighting back was part of the spell or perhaps I was overthinking it. Either way, I didn’t care. If this spell helped me remember, it was all well and good. If anything, I would get a few hours of mental peace.

“So, where shall I start?” My voice was quiet and relaxed, almost serene.

“Well, why don’t you start where all stories do?” Sun Tzu said. “The beginning.”

Chapter 12

Approximately 13 years ago

It all started with an eleven-year-old being thrown into a puddle of mud.

Me.

“That’ll teach you to break my bike.” The voice belonged to one of three schoolchildren with scraped knuckles and dim looks. I forced myself up again, trying to ignore the throbbing pain on the side of my head. My sister, Gil, gasped from behind me and started crying. The three of them clenched their teeth in rage. If there was one thing bullies hated, it was when someone stood up to them. It especially hurt when it was a little wimp like myself.

This started when one of them shouldered me into the bike rack. I upturned a couple of bikes and used one of them as a crutch to get back up again. There was a tingling inside my chest, like lightning coursing through me. It felt warm and fuzzy, so I assumed it was due to the smack on the head I had gotten from a bike handlebar.

But the bike I grabbed began smelling funny and felt like dust inside my palm. Looking down, I saw the skeletal structure of the bike crack and flake off. The unmistakable color of rust spread from where I clutched it, slowly spreading all over the structure. I let go of the bike, looking at my hands. They looked no different except for the stains. The bike lay in a complete mess. Rust spread through it like a plague, literally dissolving it into stinky, brown flakes. Soon, what was left of the bike looked like a remnant from a nuclear winter.

The boys’ stunned looks soon turned sour and the beating began. I felt strangely spent after I had gotten up, but I chalked that up to getting thrown onto a bike rack. They punched and kicked me, throwing me around like a football. I soon found myself thrown to the side again, this time into a puddle of blackened water and mud. I got up again, my frustration and anger giving me strength. I mean, I had done nothing wrong to begin with. They shoved me inside the bike rack. And I had no idea where all that rust had come from. It was probably the owner’s fault for not taking proper care of that bike. Why was I taking the beating? I saw my sister, with whom I was supposed to wait quietly until our ride got here, crying and covering her eyes. Gil had probably never seen a fight before. She lived in that innocent world every privileged eleven-year-old inhabited.

I screamed at my tormentors like a cornered beast and threw myself at them. Of course, this wasn’t like those anime cartoons where one scream can empower someone into a victory. This was real life, and the reality of it was they were three and I was by myself. They were bigger, as all bullies tended to be, and this was my first real fight. Reason should have indicated that it wouldn’t end well for me. But I never felt such hatred until then. I didn’t care if I got seriously injured. I wanted nothing more than to swing my fist and smash the big guy’s nose in. He was the one in front, the one who shoved me, the one who threw the first punch. He started all of this and I really hated him for it.

So I went for it.

They didn’t fight well, moving around like uncoordinated walruses. But then again, neither did I. Fighting was not something a family like mine approved of. It didn’t matter—I just wanted to hear the squishing sound his nose made against my knuckles. I did have my wish granted, taking the guy by surprise. After all, the last thing bullies expected was for victims to hit back.

He buckled back, blood spraying from his nose. I had gotten some on my knuckles as well, much to my morbid satisfaction. But I had spent all of my energy getting in that one punch and forgotten all about what usually happens next.

I got hit back. A lot.

They left me lying there, in the same puddle of mud, having gotten tired of hitting me. After the second blow to the head, there wasn’t much I felt afterwards. My vision became spotted with black dots and everything began spinning.

They stopped, panting heavily, and walked away. Gil came to my side, her tiny hands trying to help me up. But I wasn’t sure which side was up and my legs wouldn’t respond to my commands.

I did hear a car pull up, and through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut, I saw a jet-black limo silently parking.

“Mr. Faust, over here,” Gil cried, waving her hand. The driver switched off the car, and from the backseat emerged the creepiest man alive.

A lanky figure, pencil-thin with long arms and an even longer face, Mr. Faust served as our butler and chaperone. His uniform was immaculate, of course, and with his swallow-tailed jacket, the crisp, black vest underneath and the pocket watch chain dangling ever so slightly from his vest pocket, he looked like he belonged in a Dickens novel. His long hair was held in a ponytail by a long ribbon of midnight blue, his smile malicious and predatory, and his eyes were a disturbing shade of sulfuric yellow. He looked at my state with a hint of amusement and disgust, and then cocked his head sideways towards the direction of the boys. They remained rooted on the spot, taking in the long, black vehicle, the malevolent-looking butler, and what it all meant. No doubt they thought my family was some sort of mafia and they had just made the biggest mistake of their lives.

Mr. Faust locked his eyes onto them and they began shivering.

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t punish you this instant.” His voice was like an ice cube running down my spine. They didn’t answer at first, but within seconds, I caught a whiff of the faint smell of urine from one of them.

“B-because you-you’ll go to-to j-jail if you h-hurt us,” stuttered one of them.

Faust took one step towards them, his dress shoes clacking loudly against the courtyard ground. His tall figure loomed over them.

“Do I look like the sort of creature to be intimidated by the prospect of jail?” He spat out the word ‘jail’ as if he referred to a vacation on Bora Bora. It made me think: was our butler a former criminal who had been hardened in prison? Was he a recidivist, constantly going in and out of jail? Was my family really tied to some mob?

Or was my imagination running wild due to being repeatedly hit in the head?

Whatever the reason, the kids all shook their heads and shuddered even more violently. Faust arched his eyebrow.

“You may leave now.” The order rang with power, as if the voice of God commanded the children to disappear. I felt a strong breeze, and when I looked back all three of them were lying on their backs nearly ten feet away. Did Faust push them away, or could they really run that fast when scared out of their wits?

He walked over to me. “Allow me, Miss,” he said to Gil. He grabbed me by the back of my shirt and hoisted me up like a grocery bag.

“I can walk,” I rasped.

He arched his eyebrow but other than that completely ignored me. He opened the car door and nearly threw me in. Gil entered from the other side and Faust took his seat in front of us. The driver, an obscure figure, twisted the keys in the ignition and the vehicle shuddered ever so softly to life.

“We’d best get you cleaned up, Master Erik,” Faust said. “Your father wishes to see the both of you.”

Chapter 13

Our house wasn't like any other. It screamed money, power and privilege, and the fact that it looked like Disney’s Haunted Mansion didn't help either. The armed guards posted at the front gates weren’t exactly the friendliest of people, communicating mostly in nods and slight waves of their submachine guns. But the real terror lay inside. It was just a feeling, like how you get goose bumps after hearing a good horror story or your Spidey-Sense tingled because someone was watching you.

Ah, home. My own personal freak show.

Faust was scarier than all the armed guards put together. There was just something about him, the way he walked and moved. He had a grace about him that would put an Olympic gymnast to shame, and an air of power as if, were he ever bothered to do so, he could make the world tremble at his feet. But believe it or not, Faust wasn't the one I was nervous about meeting.

He took me straight to an infirmary, right in our house, where a small staff of nurses jabbed and dabbed me with cloths and all sorts of smelly liquids that don't seem to exist anywhere outside of an emergency room. They didn't speak to me at all, although I did catch some of them glancing nervously at Faust, who stood casually by the doorway with an anxious Gil by his side.

Once the nurses had finished playing Operation on me, it was time to meet dear old Dad. I mean, just my luck, right? The one day that my father wants to get all chummy is the same day three kids decide to use me as a punching bag. Story of my life.

My father’s study was… intimidating. The same way that a library in the Cthulhu mythos was intimidating. A set of large doors swung open with the most clichéd noise possible. Bookshelves were covered in modest layers of dust, and shadows filled the room, making it appear smaller than it was. A small section to the right was completely obscured, not even the outline of the shelves visible. Dad was old-school. Little LED lights scattered around gave the room the impression of candlelight. There was a little walk from the doors to the modest working desk, where a figure hunched with an honest-to-god candle holder, complete with a set of small white candles flickering away. Beside him were a pair of couches, an armchair, and an open fireplace. It reminded me, again, of some gothic horror novel, where a lone wizard dug into secrets better left untouched, in a race against time before some monster appeared.

“Master Ashendale,” Faust said. “Your children, as requested.”

“Thank you, Mr. Faust.” Dad didn’t even look up from his books. My sister and I walked slowly and awkwardly towards the desk, each step taken cautiously, as if a bear trap might spring at any second. This was the first time our father had summoned us, like some sort of business meeting. Imagine being called down to the principal’s office. Only here, detention could mean ending up running away from the office in tears and without an explanation as security escorted you out with their gun barrels hanging very close to your lower body parts. I’ve seen it happen a couple of times. Dad always stood there calmly, his piercing eyes a calm field of green, sometimes with the hint of a frown behind his spectacles. Sure, he put up the whole “meek boss” look, with the glasses, hunched posture and calm monotones, but I knew better. His word was law and his mind was steel. We never had a proper conversation, not even at the dinner table. He always sat at the head, his eyes fixed on his PDA device or on the paper. When we did pluck the courage to pull at his attention, he always kept his replies to ten words or less.

Usually less.

I suppose that explained why my sister and I became so close: our choices were to either confide in each other or suffer loneliness. But really, at age eleven in the early ninety’s, all I needed were the Ninja Turtles and a couple of soda pops and I was on cloud nine. My sister, on the other hand, would always come and bug me, either wanting to play or seeing monsters in her closet.

You might ask what happened to our mother.

Good question.

Our Dad simply waved at us when we infiltrated his peripheral vision. We sat down on the couch and waited. My heart was beating so fast I could literally hear it pumping. Never mind getting beat up—when my father wanted to talk to you, it was like standing in line for your turn at the gallows.

He got up, pushing the chair noisily behind him, and came to sit down on the couch facing ours. He had both elbows on his knees and his palms pressed together as though in prayer, fingertips touching his chin.

“I understand the both of you had a very interesting day at school today,” he said.

I heard the doors close and realized that Faust had disappeared. At least that guy showed you clearly just how creepy he was. I would much rather have a conversation with him. But here I was, completely alone with my old man, except for my sister, who was even more scared than I was.

Like any kid who did something wrong, I knew immediately that I was in trouble. I mean, what father wants their child fighting at school, especially when coming from an upscale family such as ours? I mean, we had it all; planes, stocks, land, more money than Michael Jackson, the whole enchilada.

Everything except a fucking dinner table conversation.

“I would very much like to hear your stories, but I simply do not have the time to waste. Mr. Faust has already relayed all the information I need anyway.”

I expected him to be angry. Instead, he smiled.

My Dad actually smiled. I didn’t know he could smile. I didn’t know his lips could stretch or anything. And he was not mad. Smiling means not mad, right? Every kid knew that. When your folks smile, you’re off the hook.

“It seems that you both came into your magic on this very day. Congratulations.”

Oh, great, we achieved something good. And he wasn’t mad. Maybe my Dad wasn’t such a bad person after all.

Wait. Did he just say ‘magic’?

Our faces must have shown some expression, because he leaned back and sighed loudly.

“This is the first step toward your destinies. This is the beginning of your real lives. We are Warlocks, explorers of worlds, and more powerful than any other wizards in the multi-planar universe.”

Oh, I get it now. He wasn’t mad. Just insane.

“I suppose you don’t believe me just yet,” he said. “Tell me, my children, what is it that you think I do here all day? What is my job?”

The first thing that came to my mind was “make people cry”. The second was “creep the living crap out of your family”. Of course, I didn’t say any of that. I may have been a dumb kid, but no kid is that dumb.

It was Gil who answered in a very small voice. “I think you’re the CEO of a company. We have a family business, Father. I think we also have a lot of stocks and investments in banks and world resources.”

Did I mention my sister was my twin? My younger twin? She spouted out stuff I didn’t even know how to spell, let alone define.

Dad smiled at her. “No, Gil. That is not what I do. Yes, on the surface I do own many shares and stocks, and my investments do supplement some of our income, but that is a mask. My true profession is that of a Warlock. I study, observe, and capture creatures from other planes in order to further the knowledge and power of the wizard population in the world.”

“Seriously, Dad?” I burst out. “Wizards? You really expect us to believe that? How dumb do you think we are?”

That was a mistake. It’s rude to snap at your parents, especially when they have vast magical powers.

Dad gave me a dark look.

“Yes, I do suppose that a demonstration is the only way for you to understand,” he said. He pointed at the fireplace. I heard him mutter something in a glottal voice, sounding like a stone being crunched into shrapnel.

The low flames burst up, claiming the entire fireplace and mantelpiece, before turning bright purple. A roar accompanied the inferno as the purple flame spiraled, seemingly uncontrollable. My father snapped his gaze at me and smiled sadistically. He snapped his fingers, once, loudly. The purple inferno twisted upon itself with another roar and compressed into a creature with four legs, a large snout, and a jaw full of fangs. All made out of purple fire.

The creature snapped at me as I raised my legs to my chest and tried not to wet myself. I was completely frozen to the couch, trying so hard to disappear. As the creature’s flaming snout inched closer and closer, I stopped breathing and forced every molecule in my body to be very, very still. It soon reared up, filling my vision with purple flames, writhing into a vaguely canine shape.

And then, it disappeared.

For a moment, all I saw was white, as my brain could not register what the hell just happened. Then, I slowly saw my Dad rise up, the smirk still on his mouth.

“Elemental manipulation, transmutation, kinesis, psychometrics, alchemy, summoning, sanguine rituals, physical enhancement, tactical and combat technique. You will learn all this and much, much more,” he said in a menacing voice. Power brimmed from his tone, as if he were giving absolute orders, and the mere notion that we could even think of opposing him was nothing but a lame joke. “From this day forth you will no longer be concerned with the world outside these walls. You will focus on our world, where life is magic, and magic is power and knowledge. Do not forget that. Now, I believe it is time you were introduced to your teacher.”

He looked up. “Mephisto, if you please.”

The doors swung open, creaking just enough to make our hairs stand on end. Mr. Faust came into view and hovered inside. He floated with his feet together, hands clasped behind his back, ponytail floating in the air, hovering a few inches off the ground. Slowly, like a specter, he moved toward us. He had forgone the coat-tailed jacket, but with his pocket-watch chain rattling lightly and hair whispering against the wind, it gave him the air of a ghost, or a vampire from a thirties movie.

“Introduce yourself properly, slave,” ordered our father. If Faust took offense, he didn’t show it. He landed right in front of us, giving our Dad his back. He stood two feet from our faces, and I saw his eyes.

His yellow eyes.

They had a black slit in the middle, like a cat’s, and when he smiled, his serrated teeth gleamed in the light of the fire.

“Good evening, Masters,” he said in his cold, silky voice, falling into a deep bow. “I was called Mr. Faust by the staff of this household to disguise who I really am. I am a demon, elemental of air and wind, former adviser to his fallen majesty, the Demon Emperor, and current council to the Ashendale Warlock bloodline. I shall be your instructor in the ways of magic and ancient lore.”

He straightened, yellow eyes gleaming, fangs exposed. His expression spoke of macabre and horror, the stuff that children dream up and think is hiding in their closets; the monsters we think are watching our every move, lurking behind the next corner.

“My name is Mephistopheles.”

Chapter 14

Present

“Damn, I nearly pissed myself.” Amaymon looked up. “My brother is one creepy son of a bitch, huh?”

“I have never had the pleasure of meeting him.” Sun Tzu put down his cup.

“You’re not missing out on anything, trust me,” Amaymon replied. He made a purring noise. “I’m the cuddly one in the family.”

“Certainly not the most hygienic,” I muttered and watched his tail swish over the rice crackers, leaving random hairs on the plate.

“Hygiene is for pussies.” Amaymon dipped his face into the plate and proceeded to gorge himself. “Man up,” he splattered between mouthfuls.

I twisted my face in disgust. “Thank you, Amaymon,” I said sarcastically. “Thank you for ruining the concept of food for me forever.”

“Anytime.”

Sun Tzu cleared his throat. “If we could please get back to the story.” He motioned slightly with his hand, encouraging me to continue.

“Yeah, I wanna see what my brother put you through. Was it dangerous? And funny?” Amaymon’s tone was genuinely happy.

“Nope, nothing too dangerous. We ran simulations and such,” I said. “Most of the time, he’d let out some monster and we had to capture it again.”

Amaymon’s tone went from schoolboy enthusiastic to crestfallen. “I could think of a dozen different activities that would be more entertaining. And that’s the stuff off the top of my head.”

“Yeah, but killing us was not on our father’s agenda,” I replied without thinking.

Amaymon gave me a look, questioning whether I was as stupid as I looked. Or as stupid as he had assumed I was. Either way, he gave me a look which made it clear that he didn’t approve of me, and that I should seek immediate help.

“Yet,” I added hastily. Amaymon sighed and went back to his rice crackers. I huffed and glared at him. He was my cat—law of nature dictates that he has to love me or face starvation.

“The story, Erik,” Sun Tzu said again.

“Yeah. Maybe I should tell you guys about this one time Mephisto locked us up with a rabid phoenix,” I said.

Amaymon nearly choked on his cracker. Sun Tzu raised an eyebrow. “A phoenix? Those are, indeed, very rare.”

“Says the guy with one in his basement,” I quipped. I thought it was amusing.

Sun Tzu did not. “Do not presume to understand the nature of either myself or my comrades, Erik. There is not enough time or knowledge in this world for me to fully explain the significance of the things you have witnessed here today.”

I remained speechless.

“Wicked burn, Gramps,” Amaymon hollered.

Sun Tzu ignored him. Perhaps he didn’t know the meaning of the word “burn” in this context. He sure as hell wasn’t raised in the last few decades. Or perhaps he just wanted to let it go. Either way, I was pretty sure I struck some sort of nerve.

Sometimes I think I’m so damn funny.

“So, what about this bird, Erik?” Amaymon said. “Did you get roasted? Did it crap on you? C’mon, please, please, please make the story about you being locked up with a flaming bird funny.”

“Well, if you’d just shut up maybe I’ll continue with the story,” I replied. Amaymon let out the smallest of hisses and shut up. Wow, the fact that he actually obeyed meant he was interested. Maybe there was a way to shut him up, after all.

***

Approximately 8 years ago

Our lives had changed forever. We no longer went to school or met anyone from the outside world. Sure, we were allowed to accompany the staff on errands, or maybe run around the surrounding forest, but otherwise the Ashendale manor was a perfect prison. Mind you, it was a big, fancy prison. And forget the mansion itself—the entirety of Trinity Forest was our playground. Or rather, our own personal obstacle course.

The evening after Dad told us that we were Warlocks, he came to my room and dumped a pile of books on the small desk I had in a corner. As I said, my family was filthy rich, and yet my room was as Spartan as can be. A small, square room, with graying white paint, a medium-sized bed, a small desk on the furthest wall and a bookshelf. I did have a window, one big enough for a thin person to wriggle out of unseen. That came in handy a couple of years later. The curtains were a dull crimson, but the glow of the rising sun through them was one of my favorite colors. It was a nice, cozy room, I suppose, but I’d been to my sister’s room, and I could have sworn hers was slightly bigger. I guess the grass is always greener.

The next day, our training began. Mephisto sat us down in a living room at the back of the house and explained the mechanics of magic. Which wasn’t too informative since magic is a very personal thing. Best he could do was divide the lessons into different categories and take it from there. Our schedule was pretty simple. After breakfast, where we were encouraged to eat as much as possible, we were escorted to our classroom to learn about energy projection, summoning, alchemy, thaumaturgy, evocations, curses, enchantments and even relatively non-magical subjects like physics, biology, chemistry, engineering, environmental sciences, pseudo sciences and theology. All I can say is, it was too damn much to expect from a kid.

My sister didn’t help at all. She would sit there, her mouth slightly parted, absorbing every single bit of information Mephisto spewed over us. She remembered everything, as opposed to me, who would start nursing a headache after the first half-hour.

Following that, we had a light lunch and then our practical sessions started. This usually involved the forest. We would take a long hike and either learn about the habitats of monsters, chase one down, or just learn stuff like tracking, hunting, shooting, fighting and general survival skills. Unlike my more academic sibling, this was where I shone. We learned how to start fires out of practically nothing, although later it was expected that we just conjure one up. We hunted deer and birds, using anything from modern rifles to long bows. We tracked down bears using stealth and traps. Sometimes our demon teacher decided to up the ante and let loose a monster. Sometimes we would spend the night out in the open.

Sometimes we spent days.

This went on for years—wake up, learn the subject, nurse a headache, eat something, walk forever amongst the trees, fight, hunt and survive whatever our twisted teacher sent our way, have some dinner and fall semi-comatose on the medium-sized bed in my small room. Next day the cycle was repeated.

I suppose the real milestone came when I turned sixteen. The learning got more difficult, to the point where I couldn’t progress without my sister’s help. Which was code for my sister doing my homework for me. The physical exercises went from tiresome, to scary, to nightmarish. Mephisto would set up traps, monsters and wildlife alike, in our path, and would leave us in the forest overnight. It was no longer a question of learning now, it had turned into a twisted survival game. We would always return scarred and battered, only to have the demon do it all over again a few days later. I think the only reason we stayed alive was because we had each other. Gil and I complemented one another very well. I served as our team’s action man, shooting and stabbing for both our survival. Gil had a talent when it came to setting up traps both real and magical. But, truth be told, she would have perished long ago without me to defend her. I guess that was why she never objected to doing my math homework.

The phoenix challenge was our last and most difficult of these survival excursions. But for me, it has an even deeper significance.

This was when I lost my magic forever.

Chapter 15

Approximately 8 years ago

It was a gray afternoon, with thunder clouds threatening to execute their wrath over the surrounding flora.

“Come with me.” Mephisto had gotten less and less talkative. When we were kids, he used to tell us stories about all the blood and gore he had experienced, how he would topple governments with a slight push, or about some long lost god from some long lost tribe and their blood rituals. You know, the usual stories you’d tell kids.

If you were a twisted sociopath.

We followed him without any questions. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and it was time for our practice session. He led us to a clearing a mile from the mansion and stopped abruptly.

“So, what are we gonna fry today?” I said with bravado. “And where’s our stuff?”

Every session we were provided with a random assortment of supplies, spell ingredients and weapons. Usually, they would be in a rucksack or rolled up in a sheet or sleeping bag. There were none this time.

Mephisto turned and snarled at me. I flinched away, my reaction involuntary.

“You must survive this,” he said through clenched teeth. The demon was not one for advice or pep talks. He would usually point his finger at our destination and we’d start walking.

“Both of you,” he said, squeezing my shoulders and darting his yellow eyes from me to my sister. “You must survive this.”

He let me go and walked a few feet away. Gil and I remained frozen on the spot, our minds still trying to figure out what the heck just happened. The demon tossed a silk bag with a knot at the neck and it landed about ten feet from us. He waved his hands and the wind gathered. I saw his eyes shine and could feel the terrible power emanating from the demon. The wind encircled the clearing, covering it like a dome.

“A barrier,” I heard my sister mutter.

“Not quite.” Mephisto’s voice boomed from around us as if the wind itself was speaking. “My power may act as a barrier, but it is not to keep things out—this power is to keep you in. Do not touch the wind or you will perish. Do not scream, because no one will neither see nor hear you. This is your ultimate test. This is not a training exercise. Today, you fight for your lives.”

There was something in his voice, as if he were being forced to put us through this. Or, perhaps, it was all part of his act to convince us that he was somewhat human. Either way, the ominous tone was real and we believed him. Whatever this thing was, it was no exercise.

“Begin.”

The silk rope constraining the neck of the bag whistled in the light breeze generated by Mephisto’s wind dome. The noose loosened and the small rope flew directionless in the wind. The bag opened and ashes scattered from it.

“What the hell-” I began.

The ashes pressed together into a bizarre blob of gray and from the center, a small spark morphed into a bright yellow ember. It grew until a small flame burned brightly in the middle of the ash pile, and grew. Soon, the entire structure was ablaze and we heard a screech. The ball of fire spread horizontally and I soon realized that I was gazing at a pair of enormous wings. The fire turned and twisted, each wave releasing a blast of heat and the ever-terrifying whoosh. A long tail plumed into three lances of flame, each swishing to and fro in a hypnotizing lull. As its wings flared nearly as wide as our entire mansion, a pair of large, wicked talons bent forward from the fire. They curved forwards and wherever the razor-sharp tips scraped against the ground, long, deep grooves of scorched earth appeared. They shone with a golden hue, as did its beak when it appeared. Its eyes flared in a bright crimson and whenever the bird moved, heat blasted us, making us weak and dizzy.

The phoenix screeched and flapped its wings, creating a small inferno. It rose high, crashing against the cage. Every time the flames hit the wind dome, they scattered. After a few tries, the phoenix was driven to the ground, having its wings and talons extinguished back into ashes. As soon as contact between the dome and the flames stopped, the ashes merged back with the bird and the flames grew once more, completely restoring it. Once the bird realized it was going nowhere, it began looking in directions other than the coveted sky. That’s when its red eyes found us.

And believe me, you do not want an angry, trapped, flaming bird looking at you.

I remember feeling terror for the first time in my life. Sure, I’d felt fear before and I did shake in my boots, especially when Mephisto got a little too creative. But this was a first for me. It was the first time I felt trapped and naked, up against a creature I had no idea how to confront. I mean, it was a flaming ball of fire. How the hell do you deal with that? Every course of action, every strategy I’d been taught, would only lead to me burning into a crisp. That was terror, real terror—the kind where your brain screamed for you to move, but your body, some survival instinct embedded in you, knew that there was nothing you could do but shut down and hope you don’t die suffering.

Amidst all those thoughts and images of me burning and frying and sizzling like a sausage on a spit, I couldn’t help but let my mind wonder. Maybe it was a sign of me going insane. Maybe this life of “hide and seek before you end up as lunch” was a little too much for a teenager. Whatever it was, when I first saw that bird screaming at us, all I could think about was what a bad idea it had been to eat that turkey sandwich earlier.

The phoenix had no qualms about fear. Like the giant bird it was, it clamped its talons on the ground and rammed its beak at us. I stood there like an idiot, watching a giant bird about to peck me to death with its giant beak.

I felt a pair of hands push me out of the way and then Gil tumbling over me, as we both rolled on the ground. The beak hit the ground, a blazing array of sparks and flames erupted, like a small volcano going off. We backed away until we heard a sharp whistling sound coming from behind. We were perhaps a few inches away from the edge of the wind dome. Some of Gil’s blonde hair touched the barrier and was cut clean, almost as if the barrier was made out of razor sharp knives, not wind. The bird had recovered and snapped its beak, clearly pissed off at having missed its prey. I watched the giant talons lift off the ground and take one earth-shaking step toward us. One of the bird’s tails swung very close to us and we ducked for cover under the long, thick lance of fire.

“Any ideas?” I heard myself asking. My throat was dry from all the heat and it was a wonder I could speak at all. We evaded another peck and scurried away from the bird to the other side of the dome. If we kept this up it would only be a matter of time before one of us slipped up and got burned. We needed something, anything, to give us an advantage. And when it came to cooking up plans, no one could beat my sister. If there was one thing she was good at, it was focusing under pressure.

“Usually water spells work best against fire but the wind is fanning the flames, acting against us. We need a source, and fast.” She patted herself and extracted a small, clear crystal. It was one of the generic tools we used. Crystals tended to act as focusing lenses for magic, but it was less than useless in this situation. The ground inside the dome was scorched beyond use. Any of the other elements would be redundant, too—no amount of wind could ever compete with Mephisto’s barrier, at least not at our level. Fire would just be plain dumb. But there must have been something we could use.

And then, it hit me. Spending days outside in these woods gave me a pretty good knowledge of the layout of the geography. After all, it was me who usually went out and did the actual hiding and shooting. I must have walked up and down it a million times and never considered using it for a spell.

“The river,” I told my sister. “There’s a small river that runs along a few miles south of here. There are trees all over the place and some of them have roots running under us right now. We could tap into that.”

Gil’s eyes flashed and she actually let out a squeak. “That’s it. I knew running in the woods would come in handy someday.”

“Wait. What are you going to use to amplify it? If you just channel the water here all you’re gonna get is some trickle like we usually get when we’re hiking and refilling our bottles. That’s not gonna cut it for a fire that size.”

The bird spread its wings, scattering flames all over the place. We ducked for cover, zigzagging from the fireballs.

“There.” Gil pointed above.

The wind dome covered us like a bell jar, and at the very center I saw a small black spot. Waves of air rippled from it, whistling down to the ground at our level, where they would shred us to bits if they hit us.

“At the very center,” she said. “That’s like the eye of the storm. The wind acts like waves and it all passes through there. But at the very centre it’s calm, like a cyclone. We could aim the water there and let the wind carry it. The water will spread out like a sprinkler system but at that speed, it’ll shoot out in jets.”

I gave my sister an impressed look. She really thought of everything: a fast attack, covering a wide area, thus leaving no room for the bird to escape. And at that speed, the water droplets would shoot through it like knives.

“And the catalyst? You need a water catalyst,” I said.

Magic doesn’t happen just by waving a piece of wood around and saying a few magic words. It needs the right ingredients and the right circumstances to work, otherwise you either get a big bang or just a flop of muddy water on your hands. The crystal Gil had would have been great for earth evocations, but this was a completely different element. For water evocations, most wizards used vials of liquid, usually a blend of blood, clean water and some unpronounceable herbs to strengthen their connection between caster and spell. We had none of that, just a stupid crystal.

Yet, Gil still smiled. She gripped the shard tightly with one hand and pressed its sharp tip against her other palm. Blood oozed around the crystal and fell in thick droplets on the ground.

Before I could say anything, she said, “The human body is sixty percent water. It pays to study, Erik.” Leave it to my sister to act smugly about school in the face of imminent, fiery danger.

“I’m all set, but I need time,” she said. Her face was contorted into a frown, which I came to know as her ‘thinking face’—Gil was completely in the zone. “Do you think you can buy me some without killing yourself?”

I nodded, suddenly nervous again. This was how our plans usually worked. The brains of the team, my sister, would sit back and analyze the enemy, then conjure up something to exploit its weaknesses. In the meantime, I, the brawn, would be doing the actual fighting. It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle the spells—it was more a case of personality. My style was diving headfirst into the fray and going all Conan the Barbarian on them. Gil was more methodical and clean, wasting no effort or magic. Besides, she had a lot more concentration than I did. She could handle observing her enemy and concentrating on the spell she was casting. And this one was extra complicated.

I mean, doing a thaumaturgy spell on a river that was quite a distance away from here, channeling water through hundreds of tree roots and rock formations and finally through scorched ground, adding a water evocation through a small crystal and her own blood, only to force it onto a demon’s wind spell in the hopes it catches a high-speed piggyback ride and shoots through a giant bird of fire? Yeah, better leave that to the brains of the team.

I muttered under my breath, gathering all my discomfort and excitement into one spell. It was one I constantly used, adding a layer of magic around my body and giving me a degree of protection. I also used it to reinforce any weapons I had. With it, I could cut through rock or shoot through tree branches whenever I played sniper. But since I had no weapons today, all I could do was give all the power to my body and hope it would be enough.

I grabbed a handful of ash and soil and hurled it at the bird. It did absolutely nothing except cause its flames to shudder slightly and send out angry sparks. Like the idiot I was, I ran to the other side of the dome, away from my sister, and waved my arm high.

“Hey!” I screamed.

The phoenix cocked one eye at me.

“Hey. Look over here you ugly piece of shit!” I yelled, egging it towards me.

It worked.

The phoenix took one earth-shuddering step toward the small, annoying creature, with the small, annoying voice.

“Hey, I ate a turkey sandwich for lunch. Was that your mother?”

The bird cocked its head again. I wasn’t sure if it understood ‘yo momma’ jokes, but it didn’t seem too happy. It slammed its talons and let out a shrill cry.

“Yeah, well, flock off, feather face,” I yelled back as I flipped it off.

I had to admit, flipping the bird to an actual bird was a pretty rare occasion. And I enjoyed egging it. I seemed to be very good at getting monsters pissed off at me.

The problem was avoiding what inevitably came next.

The phoenix reared up and speared its beak where I stood. On pure instinct, I dodged sideways. Angry sparks showered me, sending pain signals all over my body. Thankfully, my protective spell deflected the worst, but it still smarted like hell. I found myself staring at my reflection in a large, red eye that was now level with mine. And that’s when I did one of the stupidest things in my entire life.

As I said before, my methods involve more punching and less thinking. When in doubt, hit it—repeatedly and hard.

I call it the Fonzie technique.

So, when I saw that big, bright red eye in front of me, I focused power on my fist, reared backwards and swung with all my might—right into that eye.

Chapter 16

There are two main reasons why you should never, ever, punch a phoenix in the eye.

Number one: it’s made out of fire.

When my hand touched its eye, fire—hotter and more intense than any I’ve ever felt—showered my entire body. Not even my Dad’s demonstrative purple fire had done this much damage, although I suspected that his intention was demonstration rather than punishment. My protective spell kept the permanent damage at bay, but my skin still blistered and cracked. My jacket caught fire and I shrugged out of it. I registered red and raw burns all over my body. With a scream of pain, I jumped backwards, away from the fire-bird.

The second reason was that when the bird recovered from the shock, it was be in pain and very, very angry. The phoenix went from a blaze of yellow and orange to a fiery red. I took that as a sign of anger.

I was right.

It flapped its wings, trying to gain some altitude. Blasts of hot air fanned across my body and instinctively I shielded my face against the heat. I saw the bird rise, one foot at a time, its fire spreading and growing bigger and bigger. From underneath the long tripartite tail, I saw Gil’s face twisted in concentration. The ground beneath her had already cracked and was a little darker than the other regions. Water was slowly rising up. A small sprout touched the blood-covered crystal and Gil began shivering. Sweat soaked through her clothes and her white-blonde hair was now a plastered mess of damp yellow. She closed her eyes, swallowed hard, and with a grim expression, she began channeling the water.

But she needed more time.

Wizards may seem invincible when slinging around some cool-looking magic, but the truth is, magic was rarely suited for fast and dangerous situations like this one. Spells took a long time to build up, and during a fight, the last thing anyone wanted was to stand still, muttering and waving crystals about. It was a weak spot, one commonly exploited in the old days of warmongering, witch trials and ritualistic sacrifices.

But it was a whole different story when you had someone to watch your back and distract the big bad monster long enough for you to blast it.

Both the bird and my sister were at that critical point. If something went wrong at this stage, the backlash of magic would be severely damaging. The flames of the phoenix got even redder and wider. It was like the bird was evolving right in front of me. I had to act quickly to disturb this transformation—or whatever it was—before it hit my sister.

I bolted instantly, running around the phoenix in a semicircle. Tongues of fire came at me, but I was so focused that I dodged and weaved without even meaning to. All those weeks of living in a forest had shaped my reflexes into something beyond human. The magic around me, despite being heavily damaged, was helping too. I crouched down, and in a sweeping motion scooped up a palm-sized rock. I poured magic into it directly and felt a slight tingle that meant the spell was working.

Magic, the strong kind, the real kind, could not be done in the battlefield. What I was doing could barely be called magic. It was more of a McGuyver solution. High-class, high-damage spells like Gil’s took way too much time and energy, and I sucked at them big-time. I tended to go with the simpler stuff—no crystals, no ingredients; just channel energy directly from within me into whatever I needed.

I threw the magically charged rock at the bird’s head. As I said before, magic needs a catalyst, something to ignite it, like the blood on the crystal. I didn’t need a catalyst, not when the target was covered in it.

When the rock met fire, the magic reacted and there was an explosion. All I heard was the bird shriek and the roar of fire. The timing couldn’t have been better. The rock threw shrapnel all over us, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was disrupting the phoenix from accumulating power and then roasting us alive.

Then we heard the shriek again, that all-too-familiar shriek.

A pair of fiery wings spread and the bird screamed louder, until there was only a buzzing in my ears. I’m not sure what happened next. All I know is that I ran in front of my sister just in time to see a big flash and feel my skin being burnt off. There was fire everywhere, coming at us from all directions. Defiantly, I found myself in front of my sister, bracing myself for the blast. I couldn’t quell the whole blast, but I could reduce the fire in our direction.

When the flames hit me, I focused all of my magic. It wasn’t easy, and pain coursed through me as my bones seemingly cracked in the heat. But I couldn’t let go, not when my sister needed me most. Running on sheer willpower, I channeled all that heat into pure energy and surrounded myself with it. I used the fire to fuel my protective spell and it seemed to be working.

But every spell had an energy limit, and when I reached mine I realized just how stupid my mistake was. I was absorbing the heat myself, with no protection and no magic, and then channeling it into a spell. Sure, it was only pure energy, but that didn’t stop residual heat from harming me. Soon, I reached the limit of how much I could absorb and redirect. In other words, I got tired.

And as soon as my concentration wavered, the fire latched onto me and went nowhere. My skin blotched and burned and the smell of burning meat filled the air. I heard someone scream and realized it was me. I hit something hard and rolled, but the fire wouldn’t let go of me. It was as if I were soaked in gasoline and my body just kept feeding the flames.

From my position on the ground, between blackouts and writhing, I saw my sister’s lips move and tears streaming down her eyes. When I rolled some more, most of which was involuntary, I saw what was left of the phoenix: a large pile of ash. From within, just like it had done when it emerged from the bag, an ember grew larger and larger until a flame kindled at the very center. Like timber, the ashes caught on fire and soon, the bird was back in its nascent glory. The phoenix’s fire shuddered, as if it were groggy from dying and being reborn again. It perched quietly, pecking at its own flames.

I heard a scream again, and tried to force myself to look at its source. From where I was, all I saw was fire and what little remained of my body. From some distance, I heard Gil cry “It’s ready”, and for the life of me I couldn’t care less.

I was on fire. My body had been burned beyond repair by now and I was dying, I knew it.

Why else would there be dark tendrils creeping inside my body? Why else would  darkness cover me up, welcoming me into the abyss?

I closed my eyes and just let it all go.

***

It was dark and peaceful.

You have no idea just how heavy you really are until you’re just floating on something or hovering in mid-air like a cloud. You have no idea how tiring your senses are and just how liberating it is to not see, hear or feel anything. In this void, I had no thoughts and no feelings, no restrictions or compulsions. There was just the void.

And I was just there, existing.

I felt truly at peace here and knew with certainty that anything I would experience after this would pale in comparison. I mean, how do you trump complete and utter emptiness? I didn’t feel dead. I felt as if, with sheer effort, it would be possible to go back to that world of pain and reality. After being burnt alive, I thought that I’d much rather stay here, taking it easy, just existing in a timeless void.

But dreams and reality usually find a way to smash into each other and intertwine. In my case, it was with a big, red light.

It was intense—far more intense than anything the phoenix could produce. Far more powerful than either Dad or Mephisto. It was power—pure, virgin power—and it shone all around me, as if someone had dropped me right in the middle of a supernova. There still was no pain or any physical reaction; on the contrary, it was as if… well, as if I were being hugged by my mother.

Not that I ever knew what that was like, having lost her the second I was born. Hell, my sister had to be carved out of her because Mom couldn’t squeeze her out.

It felt as if Dad had decided to grow a heart and actually took us out for a day of fun. As if long-lost relatives patted me on the back, ruffling my hair and just laughing joyfully. Like Christmas Day on a sitcom and everyone was enjoying the heartfelt happy ending. It was like the one thing I wanted most as a kid.

I was looking at myself in the mirror, only I was younger. I clung to my younger self and just stayed there, until an older version of myself wrapped an arm around my shoulder and playfully mussed my hair.

It felt as if all that coalesced into one specter shrouded in deep crimson light. Something—maybe the power around me—wrapped around my shoulders and pressed against me. A hug. It was the confidence of a lover, the care of a parent, and the trust of a friend.

It was whispering something, something inaudible. I leaned closer, trying to understand and communicate back. I heard faint whispers, like words caught in the wind. I leaned closer, until I was literally inside the light. More than that, I was the light. I heard the whispers solidify into a language. I recognized a sentence, although I still couldn’t hear it. With all my strength, I willed myself to listen and managed to catch the last word of the sentence.

“… roots.”

***

The next thing I remember was a rush of sensation—hot, wet and painful. I felt something pressing against my face and the whole of my body. But interestingly, it was only on my front. My back was… wet?

I heard cracks and hisses. I felt pain.

There was something about the human body that didn’t allow you to forget the sensation of pain. I suppose that was some sort of warning to avoid harmful situations.

The human body sucks.

I remember something pulling against every single muscle in my body. There was a light, comforting warmth against my bones, and I heard cracks that had no place being heard outside of a torture chamber. I realized that my body was bent and squashed unnaturally, and from one eye, I saw a blackened hand. It was charcoal-black, with the bones cracking through. The rest of my flesh was eaten away by the fire. I saw white return to the bone and with more tingling and prickling, flesh began forming.

As it healed, my body unclenched and I stretched out further against the scorched ground. I twisted my head, involuntary, as muscles on one side repaired themselves faster than the other. From my position, I saw a figure with white hair and dark, dirty clothes, some of them scorched and torn. She held both hands up high and was screaming, power visibly flowing through her.

A trickle of water rose, like a charmed serpent from a basket, and met the crystal in her hands. A thin jet of water shot up at incredible speeds and met the top of the dome. Water spread like an umbrella, soaking everyone and everything with needles of highly pressurized water. Beyond her, I saw a lump of fire and ash, writhing in agony. Like me, it was healing and regenerating but the water kept dousing the fire and clumping the ashes.

Strength coursed through me and suddenly I had mobility again. I pressed one hand against the ground and soon the other joined it. My abdominal muscles strained as I tucked my knees beneath me. I rose from the ground, every millisecond taking as long as a year. I registered every muscle working and every nerve ending giving the appropriate signal.

And it felt great.

Like a zombie, I swayed on two legs, still not used to holding myself up with newly formed muscle and a half-crooked spine. Pressure built around my chest and I realized it was my breathing. It felt so good to be alive. I was taking note of each and every detail, appreciating the highly complex machine we call a body.

My brain was the last thing to go online.

This can’t be real, I thought. I was burnt to death. I should be floating in an afterlife. Why am I here again?

Then, I looked at my hands, which were now covered in blotchy and blistering skin.

How am I healing? Is someone doing this?

I knew the answer deep down—it was me. This was my power, acting of its own volition, as if some sentience inside me took the reins and preserved my life.

I heard a cry and saw Gil buckle. Blood covered her from where the water bit into her. She swayed and fell face first onto the ground, groaning and moaning. The spell must have taken every last ounce of strength she had. I was supposed to shield her from the water; I was supposed to deliver the final blow. Instead, I went ahead and died, leaving my sister to cast the spell on her own, unprotected.

And now, she was out of the game, and the phoenix was stirring again. The flames slowly fanned and crawled over the rest of the ashes, giving life back to the bird. And all I remember thinking was: No way in hell am I letting you crawl back up.

I found myself hobbling toward the phoenix, slowly dragging one foot after the other. The water spell had nearly dissipated, now that its source was cut off. As I passed by Gil, I saw her trying to get back up, despite her obvious exhaustion. Her eyes widened as she saw me. I noticed the crystal on the ground beside her. It was cracked and completely useless.

“Erik? Is that you?” Gil’s voice was weak. I looked at her and managed a nod as I kept on heading toward the bird.

I had no idea what I was doing. I just knew that something had to be done, and it was in this direction. I looked at the wind dome and at the center that served as our makeshift sprinkler system. I looked at the water, still clumped in a large globule, and at the near invisible waves spreading out at the sides of the dome, at the wake of the wind. And in the back of my head, all I could think of was Gil’s speech about using her blood as a catalyst.

“The body is sixty percent water,” she had said.

I collected my power, amassing it into my feet. I still hadn’t regenerated skin properly yet. As I crouched down, I saw the muscles stretching and blood flowing out of me. No matter. I would have all the time in the world for regeneration and answers to my questions after I destroyed this stupid bird once and for all.

I released all my power and jumped. I remember the familiar sensation of weightlessness as I soared up nearly three stories in height. I crashed against the water globule and latched onto it. I planted my feet on the dome, so that I stood upside down. The wind cut through my feet and I screamed in pain. I channeled my agony into the spell and pressed the water globule against me.

“Sixty percent water.”

I channeled the wind and water into one single being—me. I felt the sharpness of the wind and the malleability of water. I combined them together and poured everything I had into the globule. With a yell, I launched the water at the bird, which sat directly under me.

The water shot down like a giant balloon and exploded. Even the bird’s shriek was lost as water exploded in every direction, much like the phoenix’s fire did before. What’s more, it exploded inside the bird, completely dousing any fire within.

I saw a large clump of wet ash sparking. The damn thing was reigniting itself again.

With a frustrated yell, I focused the last of my power into my fist and jumped. I was hanging upside down so I shot downwards. As I rapidly descended, I let out a scream, pulled my fist back and punched.

My fist met the sparking ashes and energy exploded. Ashes scattered around, the spark long lost. A large crater appeared on the ground, with cracks snaking all the way past the dome and into the forest. I was thrown against the dome and bounced back painfully on the ground. I felt pain everywhere but my mind was dulled and so all that registered was a loud thumping sensation. I tried flexing my right hand and found nothing. When I twisted myself to look, all I saw was a pool of blood and gore. My right arm was gone, leaving only a bloody stump at the elbow.

I remember Gil slumping next to me, her face a mixture of nausea and relief. She came closer and closer, until she touched my face with her burnt hands. The moment we touched, I saw a kaleidoscope of color, and a white world invaded my mind. It felt as if I were back in my own abyss, floating in the darkness, except this universe was a world of white, silver and ivory.

Reality soon snapped back and something heavy fell on my chest. Gil lay there, unconscious, her figure slumped over me. I felt dizzy and light-headed. I turned sideways and tucked my remaining hand under my head just in time to avoid cracking my skull open.

From my peripheral vision, I saw the dome dissipate into nothing and a pair of polished, black dress shoes stepping in.

The ashes were slowly clumping again, forming an avian figure. A small spark kindled at the very center. I heard Mephisto’s sigh and the swish of his hand. The wind gathered and the ashes spread into a million dust particles. The clump exploded into nothingness, and I was fairly certain that the phoenix was gone. With a flick of his wrist, our demon butler destroyed a monster that had taken all our strength to bring down and had cost me my life.

I saw his shoes turn back to face me.

“Tut, tut. You children have such a long way to go,” I heard him say. Gil’s weight was lifted off me and I saw her feet dangling over the demon’s shoulder. I then felt a pressure around the back of my neck, and found myself being hoisted in mid-air as well. Mephisto slumped me over his other shoulder, and for a bizarre second, his yellow eye was inches away from my bloody mess of a face.

“But you may yet achieve a power greater than anyone else on this plane,” I heard him say. “Yes, that I believe to be true.”

Chapter 17

Present

There was utter silence in the restaurant. Sun Tzu absentmindedly circled his finger on the rim of his cup. Amaymon sat on the same spot as when I started the story. The cat had remained motionless and quiet this whole time.

“What’s up with you guys? Did I leave you speechless?” I said before taking a sip from my glass. If there was ever a time to chug down whiskey like it was happy hour, it was now.

“Merely acknowledging what I already suspected,” Sun Tzu said. “Although there is a chasm of difference between suspecting something and hearing it aloud. Even in my later years, I can still be surprised. We all come from a different past life.”

“Not so different from my perspective,” I replied. “Sure, I don’t camp out at night in a forest filled with monsters anymore. But I do live here, and Eureka in now a nexus. No shortage of monsters for me.”

Sun Tzu shook his head. “That is not what I meant.” He sighed and clasped his hands together. “You were close to your sister. You lived in a house where you shared both good and bad memories. You learned all about the wonderful world that surrounds us, although you may not see it so at this stage of your life.”

“I had a house where I never felt at home, a father I never knew—who, when the time was right, chose to sacrifice us—and my magic teacher was not the kind-hearted Master Yoda. It was his brother,” I said pointing at the cat. “A sociopathic demon who got off on slowly torturing us.”

Sun Tzu motioned to speak but the cat beat him to it.

“I’m more interested in the word itself,” Amaymon said. “Roots. That’s the second time you mentioned it, Erik.”

I got a flashback in my head: Mephisto picking up my sister from a tanker after we finally beat down Lilith and her Alpha. After I went all supercharged, following my death at Lilith’s hands. He looked at my new form with fear, something I didn’t know he could exhibit. I remember clearly what he said, that I finally grasped my own roots. At the time, I didn’t give it much thought. I mean, Mephisto loves speaking in riddles and twisting the truth. He wouldn’t lie, but you could never get a straight answer out of him.

I relayed the information to Sun Tzu, filling in the gaps I left out earlier.

“I see,” he said once I finished. “Not very helpful, is it? But I suppose the answer to your power is already in front of you.” His expression turned pensive. I grabbed the nearly empty whiskey bottle and poured, dividing the remaining liquid between us.

“The angel said that your power is Life magic, is it not?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“So, my next question is obvious. Why is a mortal using a type of magic which even deities are seldom able to employ?”

My eyebrows shot up. “Life magic is simple enough. I mean, back in the old days, Mephisto had us practice on Bonsai trees, tending to them using only magic. I killed mine in three days.”

“Typical,” Amaymon muttered.

“Hey, the last plants we had were destroyed by you. You ate the first one and crapped in the remaining two.”

“Serves you right for being too cheap to afford kitty litter.”

“Our neighbor has a perfectly good garden. Why not use that?”

“The asshole put cacti and roses everywhere.”

I scoffed at the cat and returned to the subject at hand. “Besides, every time someone summons a creature, it’s technically Life magic. That’s what anima particles are. Am I wrong?” I asked Sun Tzu.

“You are correct,” he replied gently, “but you miss the point. Summoning and growing trees are manipulations of Life magic. When summoning occurs, energy, in whatever form it may be, is transferred from one place into another. Anima particles are just accidental leaking, like using water to wash your car. Some of the water is wasted.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Shocker,” Amaymon muttered sarcastically.

“Shut up,” I immediately shot back, before turning to Sun Tzu. “What are you trying to say?”

“I am trying to tell you that you use pure Life magic. Unlike normal practices, where magic is simply transferred, you create your own energy. And this is something which has never happened before.”

He leaned forwards. “The clue is how you integrated the anima particles. Those things are useless to anyone, even higher tier creatures like deities, avatars and Outsiders. It seems your power goes beyond that, to the next level. It’s the power that created nature, the solar system and all the planes of existence. My question is this: why do you, Erik Ashendale, a mere mortal, have the power of a god?”

I blinked a couple of times, trying to digest what Sun Tzu had told me.

Power of a god? Really? Me? Sounds unlikely. I mean, how do you measure the power of a god?

Which god? The god? Couldn’t be possible.

I mean, if I were that omnipotent the only music in the industry would be seventy’s rock and Firefly would never have been cancelled.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked darkly.

“It is just a theory, but all the clues fit. Now, I wish to understand something else,” he replied. “I wish to know more about you. How did you lose your magical abilities, save your healing and the channeling? What happened to your father? And where does Tenzin enter the picture?”

The hard questions.

Either I didn’t have the answers to them or I made every effort to avoid them. But I volunteered for this. I chose to tell Sun Tzu—if not for myself, then for the sake of everyone else: Gil, Abi, Amaymon. For the sake of any victim the Sins will target again. I couldn’t let anyone get hurt simply because I wussed out. If I had to open this particular can of worms, then so be it.

“Fine,” I said. “It’s a long, dark story.”

“I have all the time in the world to hear you out, my friend.” Sun Tzu’s smile was warm and inviting. Just like a true friend’s. Just like a caring father.

Just like Tenzin’s.

“Fine. But before I start…” I shook the empty whiskey bottle at him. “I’m going to need more medicine.”

Sun Tzu bowed his head slightly and exhibited his toothy grin. Amaymon hopped from the table, and I could feel him drawing just the tiniest slivers of power.

“Allow me. I’m getting stiff sitting on my ass all day.”

He padded toward the bar and disappeared behind the counter. In his place appeared a man with a shorter, stouter, build than mine. He wore all black, from the cargo pants to the black tank top, and the black beanie. His eyes retained the same feline appearance and when he grinned his serrated teeth flashed wickedly. He reached behind him and pulled out a bottle. Without reading the label, he twisted off the top and took a long swig.

“Hmm, single malt. Ain’t bad.”

All this time the other three patrons present—Turtle, Long and Tiger—halted their game and watched the demon with predatory intent. Not that they were making much progress in their game before. Long and Tiger were locked in a perpetual staring contest, with Turtle trying to be the jolly man in between. Each move the two made against each other involved a lot of slapping down tiles and growling challengingly. I never knew Mahjong could be so fierce.

They stared at the familiar, their expressions dark. Amaymon noticed them, held up his hand, and started holding up fingers at random. Turtle let out a gasp and immediately grabbed a couple of tiles. The other two looked at the board and shook their heads in defeat. Turtle looked at Amaymon and bobbed his head in thanks, beaming so widely that his eyes closed. The other two glared at the demon who cost them the game, only to see him flipping them off.

“Is he always this helpful?” Sun Tzu asked as Amaymon grabbed a second bottle and made his way toward us. “Turtle usually lets them win, so they can keep playing game after game without resorting to violence.”

“Yeah, well, that’s Amaymon for you. The only reason he helped Turtle out is so he can piss off two people at once instead of just one. And to egg them into fighting each other,” I replied.

“A demon through and through,” Sun Tzu said as he held out his glass and Amaymon filled it to the brim with amber liquid.

“And don’t you forget it,” Amaymon replied smugly.

I snatched away the bottle and filled my own glass. With a silent toast, we all drank and refilled our glasses. Not Amaymon, though—the barbarian chugged straight from the bottle.

“Ain’t you got a story for us, Erik? Start spillin’, man,” Amaymon said.

“Sure. But this is when things turn…” I paused to look for the appropriate word, but anything I thought of could not encompass the gravity of the story. “Well, this is where the crap hits the proverbial fan.”

Chapter 18

Approximately 8 years ago

We woke up in the infirmary. It was a small, busy room tended by two very short, quiet young women. Other beds were occupied by members of the mansion’s security, although judging by their injuries, their jobs also extended to tending the supernatural chicken runs.

The first thing I remember was squinting. The light shone directly on me and was soon shadowed by Mephisto, who loomed in like some kind of cheap special effects specter.

“Ugh.” I tried sitting up. An alarm went off in my head. I shuddered all over as every muscle, tendon and bone ached and cracked. I felt like I’d been hit by a bus and then swept off in a hurricane. But I guess you’re bound to feel some backlash when you go up against a phoenix, die in the process, and then cast a spell using your own body.

“Well done, Master Erik. You survived. Both of you did,” Mephisto said.

The world stopped spinning for a moment as I grasped the edge of my bed and tried desperately to get up and punch the demon in the face. The problem was, I saw his face in three different directions.

“Any particular reason why you tried to kill us, or are you just that bored?” I spat, still trying to get adjusted.

“Oh, but there is a reason, young Master,” he replied. Something about his voice made we wish I was back with the firebird. “This was the final stage of your training and you both passed. Congratulations, children, you are both one step closer to being Warlocks now.”

“So, that means we get to keep on killing monsters for no apparent reason? Whoopty-freakin’-doo,” I said.

“There is a reason, and a very good one at that. But first, I have one final lesson to teach you,” he replied. “Something that you both experienced but have not studied: channels.”

“We already know how to channel magic,” Gil said.

She’d been quiet all this time, standing beside me and trying not to let me fall on my face. She didn’t have any injuries on her but I could see some large plaster patches covering her arms, and she smelled of solvent and medical unguents.

“We used crystals and thaumaturgy before,” she said.

“Crystals and such trinkets will only get you so far. I am talking about the real channels of power,” he said in his creepiest tone. He looked intently at me. “Blood, Body, and Soul.”

“What happened to me, Mephisto?” I asked, looking at my hands. I had no bandages and no plasters. In fact, were it not for the fact that my clothes looked like something even a homeless person would throw away, I looked perfectly healthy.

“All in due time, Master Erik. All in due time. But first, we must cover the basics of this issue. Meet me outside the study after dinnertime. That should give you enough time to recuperate.”

“Using the body as a channel will result in powerful magic,” Mephisto said. “As Erik showed with his impromptu water spell, the amplification of the spell increases tenfold at the very least. This, however, is a dangerous method of creating spells, because of the backlash.”

The demon paced around the room as we sat down, trying to shift into a position where our injuries would not bother us.

“The human body is not conditioned for magic. Let me give you an example. If you were to use a wind spell using the air currents surrounding you, and your breath as a catalyst, that would be a safe way of creating a spell. However, if you were to channel magic directly into your body and use only your breath as both spell and catalyst, then you would not only expend every last morsel of air inside your lungs, but also every molecule of oxygen inside your system. Blood cells would die and your muscles would atrophy. The damage would be too great.”

“But what about when there are no channels?” Gil asked. She tapped her pencil on her notepad, a gesture she usually did absentmindedly as she got into the lesson. “Like our battle against the phoenix. All we had was a crystal. What happens once the channel is no longer functional? Will words alone suffice?”

“No,” Mephisto replied. “Chants are used by humans simply because the human mind is not accustomed to magic. Or rather, deliberate magic. You humans need everything to be organized and categorized. Magic is not so… anal.”

“Did he just call our entire species a ‘tight ass’?” I muttered in Gil’s ear. She giggled silently, trying not to make too loud a sound.

“Humans use chants to achieve the right frame of mind, as a sort of catalyst for the mental portion of the spell. A chant is a mind frame and little else. Indeed, once you advance yourselves into the deeper realities of magic you will be able to wield it as easily as you breathe,” Mephisto continued. “So, to answer your question Master Gil, if your channel were to break or shatter, you will be left with no choice but to put your body and life on the line.”

“But,” he snapped abruptly as he spun like a flamboyant magician about to perform his pièce de résistance, “the main issue is the durability of the channel. What if I told you that one may create a channel so powerful that it is virtually unbreakable? One so attuned to its wielder that it not only channels magic, but tunes it according to the user’s will and amplifies it accordingly?”

“One ring to rule them all?” I quoted smugly.

“Defiant as usual,” said the demon. “But let me ask you this: why do the most iconic mythological figures always appear wielding one weapon? And why is that weapon always named?”

“Because people like to name things?”

“Or perhaps because their relationship with the object is so deep that a part of their very essence—their soul you might say—is inside that object, forever tying it to them. Why is it that spirits always linger in old houses? Because the person who lived there has invested a portion of their essence inside the very walls of the building.”

“So, you’re saying that any wizard could just create a channel which is indestructible and all that?” I asked with disbelief. “Why doesn’t everyone do that and be done with regular junk?”

“Because it is exceedingly difficult to create one. The person needs to be completely open to magic, find an object suitable for them, and most importantly, find a creature with magic parallel to theirs, subdue it, break it down to its essential elements and integrate those elements into the object.”

Gil and I looked at each other. I guess both of us began to realize what it was that our family actually did with all the monsters.

“Who would go through all that trouble and danger?” Gil asked.

“Exceedingly powerful and desperate wizards,” Mephisto replied. “Like your brother.”

Both Gil and the demon frowned at me. What the hell was he on about? I like to think I’m powerful but, truth be told, ever since I woke up from that hospital bed I couldn’t feel any magic. It was like someone had switched off the tap.

I just chalked it up to a side effect of coming back to life after being clinically dead for a few minutes.

“What do you mean, ‘powerful and desperate’?”

“It’s very simple. The fact that you managed to heal your dead body implies that you have unleashed your greater potential,” Mephisto said. “But I firmly believe, Master Erik, that you have lost your ability to use magic.”

Chapter 19

“I’m gonna need a better explanation than that,” I said.

“And you shall get it,” Mephisto replied. “Follow me outside for a moment, please.”

He led us to a clearing adjacent to our front door, hidden from view, but not so that we couldn’t fully see the house from where we were.

“Cast any spell you wish, Master Erik.” Mephisto leaned against a tree, a smile plastered on his face.

I looked around, taking in my surroundings. If this creepy bastard wanted me to shoot something, I might as well blast him. Probably not the best of ideas. Instead, I settled for a small bush, perhaps ten meters away from me. I dug inside my pockets and produced a matchbox. I struck a match against the side and watched as the small flame began consuming the small length of wood.

Mephisto had allowed me to pick out anything I wanted on the way out of the mansion. I snatched the matchbox as quickly as I could. Fire magic was flashy and generally fun to play with. I mean, come on, who doesn’t like shooting fireballs? Give me some fantasy armor and they could make a video game character out of me.

Matchsticks were great tools for magic. Wood is a natural material and the amount of energy you can pass through it is almost unlimited.

Fire is one of the purest elements you can get—it hasn’t changed since cavemen first rubbed two flints together.

I focused on the flame and channeled magic through the lit match. Pain flared through me, jarring every bone in my body. I dropped the match—my entire body shook and convulsed.

“Erik! Are you alright?” Gil had her arms around me. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked Mephisto.

The demon remained against the tree, his attitude relaxed and bored.

“It’s just as I suspected. Erik’s magic has become internal rather than external. His magic is locked inside him, constantly looping inside his body. That was why he could practically resurrect himself from death. That amount of healing required his entire magical potential and it is now solely focused on Erik and his body.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I spat through clenched teeth. My lungs burned and I bent over in a fit of coughs. I tried breathing slowly and riding out the pain, but it had no effect. It was like someone had crushed my very core, shaking me from the inside. Like I was a rag doll being ripped apart and sewn back together.

“It means that you cannot use magic outside the confines of your body,” Mephisto  replied as he eyed me. He focused on me with a predatory gaze, as if he were a scientist and I was Frankenstein’s creation. He looked at me as if he were waiting for me to spontaneously combust. “In terms that you can understand, your entire body has become something akin to a channel.”

“Didn’t you say that was impossible?” Gil asked.

“I said it was harmful to use magic through a human body. This,” Mephisto pointed at me, “is a mutation. The question is not what, but rather, how. And why.”

He bent over and grabbed my shoulder in a vice-like grip. His fingers dug inside my shoulder as lifted me up. “Why did this happen? What are you hiding inside of you, young Master?”

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the new version of hurt he was inflicting on me. A new arc of pain stabbed me and a cold wave washed over me. I looked at my shoulder and realized I was bleeding. Mephisto had literally dug his fingers into my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Gil’s voice had a tremor of horror and disgust. She latched onto Mephisto’s arm, still holding me on my feet, and wrestled against it. “You’re hurting him. Let him go.”

The demon complied and released his grip.

“What is wrong with you?” Gil screamed.

“Look.” Mephisto calmly pointed at my shoulder.

I looked at the wound he inflicted on me, expecting to see four holes in my shoulder. Instead, all I saw was my injury rapidly shrinking as flesh filled the wounds, once again sealing my shoulder. In a matter of seconds, it was as good as new, without so much as a scratch.

“As I said, Erik’s magic is solely focused on his body now,” came Mephisto’s voice. He bent over and picked up a branch. He handed it to me and pointed at a boulder. “Break that.”

I waved the branch pathetically. “With this? I doubt I could kill a fly with this.”

“Channel magic through it, then.”

I scowled at him and tried to concentrate. Already, the convulsions began, and in between muscle spasms I dropped the branch. My arms were on fire, as if someone pumped acid inside my veins.

“It hurts,” I rasped once I could speak.

Mephisto remained where he stood. “Imagine that the branch is a part of your body. Convince your mind that you and the branch are one and the same.”

I picked up the branch again and tried once more to channel magic. Again, I doubled over in pain and felt as if a train had just passed over me. I saw Mephisto crack a smile. That bastard must be getting off on watching me suffer. Gil started running over towards me but I held my hand out, stopping her. I grabbed the branch again and closed my eyes.

This was basic training. Think of the weapon as part of the body and divide the internal energy equally. I felt pressure on every bone on my body, but beneath all that, the familiar sensation of tingling ran through my hand.

I raised it high up in the air and brought it crashing down on the rock.

Usually it was no big deal to crack a rock or two. It was just a matter of altering the density of the weapon to be higher than that of the rock. Fairly easy magic.

But now, the best I could do was make a crack that snaked from the top of the rock to a third of the way down. The branch shattered into a million pieces and I winced as my curled index finger scraped against the rock. A slight tingle a bit later and the injury disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Damn rock,” I yelled in frustration.

Without thinking, I took one step and kicked the rock with all my might. Two things happened.

One: I re-enacted the most iconic Warner Brothers gag where a cartoon character clutches his foot and hops on the other while howling and cursing in pain.

Two: the rock broke into sizable chunks.

Once I saw the broken stone, I stopped my cartoonish antics and looked at Mephisto.

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

“That is an interesting thing, Master Erik. This means that you must retrain yourself to better understand your power. This is, indeed, fascinating.” He began pacing around. “Very interesting, indeed.”

“I must ask you to head back home now, children,” he said abruptly. “I have something to report to your father.”

And just like that, we began walking back to the mansion. Mephisto disappeared soon after leaving us alone with just the sound of canine nails clicking against granite as the demon dog ran back to its master.

Chapter 20

To this day, I still have no idea what Mephisto reported to my father, and to be honest, I’m not sure I really want to know. What I do know is that after that day, Dad began showing up during our training sessions, observing from afar like a hawk.

Months had gone by since I lost my magic.

Well, I hadn’t technically lost it, but I failed to see the difference. I couldn’t cast a single spell. Sure, after a few weeks I realized that pretty much nothing could harm me. Mephisto had made sure of that.

I was like a pincushion to that guy, and he soon began getting creative with his torture routines. It all helped me realize that pain was all in the mind, and that the moment you accept it and stop trying to fight it off, it’ll stop. Most of the stress is just from the anticipation. I’ve tasted so many variations of pain that I think the demon took it upon himself to create new heights of pain just for the sake of variation.

As I said before, complete psycho.

I slowly adjusted to my power. Through trial and error, and a crap-load of pain created from my trying to use magic when I couldn’t, I discovered that I could reinforce my body with supernatural durability and strength. If I concentrated enough, my senses would heighten to the point of reading a newspaper from a good distance. But that always caused me a headache and a little nausea.

I also discovered I could channel magic through weapons, just like I did before. This time, however, I had no control over the power output. Generally, the weapon became much more powerful than before but crumbled into dust after a couple of uses. Swords rusted, staffs shattered, and guns melted from the inside. Heck, I even shattered a crossbow once. That was just disturbing.

Mephisto began training us in what he called ‘The Zoo’.

After letting us in on the family secret, he began dragging us down to a sub-basement every other day. The Zoo was a large space, perhaps the size of a large aircraft hangar. There were walls lined with squares, like high school lockers. Each one was painted with a symbol in a circle, each different than the other. At the far end, the one farthest from the entrance, away from the clutter of canisters and hunting gear, was a bench like those you would find in a science lab. You know the type: bulky and thick, set with an array of vats and test tubes full of chemicals. Trays were usually stuffed with gore since the scientists working under my father had the same ethical code as butchers.

It was finally crystal-clear what we were raised to do. Warlocks—Oath-Breakers. We learned that the magical community had rules, usually set by heads of families and extraordinary wizards. We learned that, in today’s age, there existed a council of ten wizards, each as powerful as their collective clans put together. Their job was to observe the natural course of events and keep the really bad eggs at bay. They were responsible for categorizing magic users as we know them today: practitioners or adepts, wizards and Specialists. They took the latter category a step further and created subdivisions for magic specialization, which is why you hear words like Pyromancer and Necromancer.

The Ashendales have always been Warlocks. Our specialty was to delve into the darkest of arts, study the creatures and worlds of other dimensions, and explore other planes of existence, for the sake of knowledge that is quite literally out of this world.

That was what my family did: jump into other worlds, go all Crocodile Hunter on them, and then see what knowledge they could extract from that. Less advanced Warlocks usually stuck to this plane, seeing as how dangerous planes-walking could be. There were plenty of monsters around here if I went by the sheer number of circles and symbols painted on the walls of the Zoo.

Our demonic teacher had decided to show us the ropes in properly capturing and binding monsters and magic in general. It was during one of these sessions that the proverbial plot thickened.

We had just entered the Zoo when we saw them. Dad was speaking to a tall, lanky man in a pinstriped suit. Dad’s mannerisms suggested urgency and frustration.

“The time is approaching, Crowley. We need to get the Syphoning Ritual done before they could-” we heard Dad say when we got close enough.

He stopped abruptly and straightened up. “Erik, Gil,” he said, finally acknowledging us. “Mephisto.”

The demon bowed deeply. “We are progressing with the instruction as per your request, Master Ashendale,” he curtly replied.

“Well, see to it that they are an asset to me,” our father replied.

I turned and looked at the stranger. Aside from the dark pinstriped suit, he held a fedora. White satin encased his hands. His hair was slicked back, exposing a pasty white face with sunken eyes and wide lips. The man looked like the Joker from the Batman comics. He licked his lips and stared back at me with wide, wild eyes. His gray orbs held a predatory gaze, and I recoiled as I saw them scan my entire body from head to toe. He smiled and his lips stretched impossibly wide. My stomach churned a little as the tip of his tongue rubbed against his teeth. I’d never met a child molester before but this dude seemed to fit the profile perfectly. Still locking eyes with him, I took a step backwards and shouldered my father by accident.

His eyes alternated between me and the stranger. “This is my associate.”

The stranger extended one gloved hand toward me. From between his glove and his sleeve, I saw a patch of dark, blue-gray skin. Revolted, I quickly averted my gaze back to his eyes.

“Alastair Crowley,” he said. His voice had a rasp to it, like nails scraping a blackboard. It reminded me a lot of a bug infestation, that incessant shrill of antennae, gossamer wings and clicking of pincers.

I smiled and shook his hand. I knew it was rude to remain silent, but was afraid that if I opened my mouth I would throw up on his expensive Italian shoes.

Crowley latched onto my arms and his neck craned slowly, as if to get a closer look. I struggled a little, but it felt as if the energy was being sapped out of me. I got weaker and weaker by the second, and all I could do was stand there as Crowley edged closer.

Just when I thought our noses were going to touch, the man pulled back and abruptly let me go. I jerked backwards, glaring at Crowley with all my might. He smiled and looked at my father.

“Yes, I understand now. I shall begin the final stages. Do you have all the necessary components?” Crowley asked in a serious tone.

“Yes. All is ready,” replied my father.

“Good. We shall speak again soon,” Crowley said. He put on his fedora and walked past us. My father shuffled after him. Just when they were within earshot, I saw Crowley turn sideways and glance at me with one creepy eye.

“They have their mother’s eyes.”

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice down my spine. When I heard Crowley mutter those words, I instinctively took a step forwards.

My mother? How the hell did he know my mother? She died back when our dear father was still a humble wizard with grandiose plans and a pregnant wife. Soon, after we were born, our father took over and changed.

What were they planning? Final stage of what? And how did my mother get into all of this? The way Crowley spoke of her, it was as if he knew her personally. And when such a creepy person knew someone so intimately, that was usually code for ‘did something evil to them’.

A thought permeated my mind. What if, what if, what if…

What if he had something to do with her death? What if he could drain life-force like some sort of vampire? What if he had weakened her the same way he tried with me, and then let the strain of childbirth do the rest?

My expression twisted into a feral snarl and I took a stride toward the pinstriped bastard, when something stopped me. A vice grip dug into my shoulder and I was rooted to the spot. I felt thin hands grab my free arm, and saw Gil’s white-blonde hair in my peripheral vision.

I turned to Mephisto, who held my shoulder. “What is he?” I snarled. I couldn’t even feel the pain. Rage and hatred consumed me, permeating every corner of my mind. I wanted nothing more than to rip that guy’s head off and bathe in his blood.

“Whatever he is, you are not ready to face him yet,” Mephisto said. He leaned in close and whispered, “Do not ruin everything now. Please, Master Erik.”

I looked at him and saw his golden orbs gazing back at me. Did he just beg me not to throw my life away?

Mephisto straightened up and let go of me, although he did move from in front of me, covering my field of vision with his body.

“I suggest you vent your feelings on today’s practice dummy,” he said with his usual glee. Gil scowled at him. “I’m sorry. I meant ‘guest’,” he quickly corrected.

He didn’t fool Gil—not that anyone could have been fooled by his insincere tone.

He escorted us to a large round platform that he dubbed ‘the Arena’. A circular elevator led to a separate room in the floor above, where live experiments and simulations were conducted. In other words, a giant titanium and lead room reinforced with a century’s worth of enchantments, where monsters were allowed to rampage freely before the staff subdued them. It was designed to contain anything from ghouls to demons. Nothing was getting out of this room.

Gil and I walked over to a small workbench where weapons and magical components were scattered, and Mephisto disappeared behind a booth outside the Arena.

“Today’s monster du jour,” Mephisto’s voice boomed over the PA system, “is a Baku. Enjoy.”

I wasn’t sure if the demon knew whether the PA system was still active or not when he let out a sadistic laugh—although, knowing Mephisto, it was probably on purpose.

Gil nodded as she palmed a medium-sized crystal. I gave the table a quick glance. Magical components were less than useless to me. Instead, I went to the weapons rack and wrapped my fingers around a melée weapon from the Middle Ages. It was a morning star, a ball of steel with three-inch spikes jutting out of it like quills covering a hedgehog—the mace’s deadlier cousin. Usually I preferred something with a sharp edge, but not today. After hearing Crowley’s comment about my mother, all I wanted to do was bash something in.

“Bring it on,” I said as my magic seeped into the heavy weapon, enabling me to swing it with frightening ease. “I’m in the mood to kill something right about now.”

Chapter 21

“Erik,” I heard Gil say. “Are you calm?”

My blood was still boiling from Crowley’s comment. My jaw was clenched so tight I could feel my joints creaking. My arms ached, and I clenched the morning star so tightly my knuckles were white. I stared at the spot where I knew whatever we were supposed to fight would appear.

“Yeah,” I heard myself mutter.

Behind me, Gil shifted, ready to start her usual spell-casting bombardment. “We need to avoid frontal confrontation with this monster. It’s a Baku, a dream eater. It induces dreams and hallucinations before mauling you and eating you alive. Avoid getting caught in the gas it emits from its mouth.”

“Yeah.”

“Erik?”

“Yeah.”

I heard her sigh. “What’s two plus two?”

“Yeah.”

More sighing. “Just don’t die, okay?”

“Yeah.”

The door expelled a plume of gas and a loud hiss, like in those cheap science fiction movies. The first thing I heard was a loud thump followed by the click of nails on the steel floor. One thump after the other, shuddering the entire structure. I heard a loud exhalation of air, as if a low trumpet was blowing. A monstrous shadow covered the entire entrance.

I distinctly heard flapping, like a flag in a weak wind. The smoke was soon blown away and the Baku stood there in its full monstrous glory.

The creature was as rare a find as one could hope for. It stood on all fours, nearly seven feet tall. This must have been a young one since it wasn’t uncommon for them to reach up to ten feet. It looked like a cheap attempt at a chimera: thin legs covered in striped fur like a tiger’s, ending with disproportionately wide paws; black, curved claws  leaving thin scratch marks on the floor. Its body was barrel-shaped and long, with angular ribs jutting from beneath the skin, orange and tan fur covering it, giving the creature a hypnotic appearance. But the head was by far the scariest part. It was disproportionate to the rest of the body, almost as large as the torso of the creature. Small, elephantine ears were gently flapping at the side of its head. A large trunk snaked in front of its face. Two straight black tusks were parallel to the trunk, one on each side, positioned perfectly to skewer whatever the Baku caught in its grip. Its eyes were pools of black ink, located each side of its head, like a bird or a fish.

Whenever it moved, the stripes around its body messed with your eyes, making you lose focus. The ear flapping didn’t help either.

“Erik, don’t look at it too much,” I heard Gil say. She had her head angled, keeping track of the monster from her peripheral vision. Her hand moved quickly, setting alight a small bundle of tweed. Good thinking. If this monster attacked with gas, why not see if it was flammable?

“Yeah, I kind of figured that one out already,” I replied as I hoisted my weapon and turned it to reflect the monster on the spherical, polished surface.

“Good, now remember, don’t get caught in the gas. I need just a few minutes, so distract—Erik, wait!”

I took off in a sprint towards the monster. Gil was correct in taking precautions, but there was one thing she could never understand. I was invincible. I mean, seriously, what would you call someone who, despite shooting, stabbing and ripping him apart, still doesn’t die? That was me. I survived every sadistic game Mephisto threw at me. What could this giant sausage-looking fur ball do to me that Mephisto hadn’t? I was faster, stronger, and I could recover from anything. I had slain monsters that would drive any sane person to jump from the tallest building, and I had beaten them hands down. I had survived, I had won. And I would do the same over and over again.

Until I got to Crowley. Until I could drive a knife between his ribs and force him to tell me what he knew about my mother.

Because here’s the thing about powerful people—without a goal, they are simply powerful; but when driven by something, they became titans. I had to get the answers, but now I could see that Mephisto was right. I knew it from the moment I shook his hand, I was no match for Crowley. I needed power, and if killing this dopey-looking tapir was going to help me, then so be it.

I ran towards it. The Baku reared its head up and swiped with one paw. It was faster than it looked. But not fast enough.

I ducked beneath the oversized paw, letting the momentum of my run take me as I skidded on my knees under the creature and swung the morning star at its leg. Bone cracked and the Baku yelped. It hopped to the right and swiped its claws at me again. I dodged and spun, swinging my weapon around to catch another leg.

But I had underestimated the Baku. There was a general rule of thumb when dealing with monsters: the smaller they were, the smarter they were.

I noticed it too late—that glib intelligence in those wide, stupid eyes. I found nothing when I swung the heavy weapon and the momentum carried me forwards. There was nothing I could do when the trunk wrapped around me and a large puff of gas shot straight into my face. There was no warning or feelings of grogginess. It was as if someone had simply flipped a switch.

I could regenerate from this, was my only thought, before I blacked out and proved that I wasn’t as invincible as I thought I was.

***

At first, there was quiet.

I stood in my father’s study, sitting on the exact same couch as I did five years ago when my world changed forever. The same fire roared beneath the mantelpiece and the same desk cluttered with the same books.

I heard a voice whispering my name softly.

“Erik.” I knew that voice. I dreamt it so many times in my life, I’d lost count.

“Erik.” There it was again. The ethereal tone that made me linger an extra few minutes in bed just to hover subconsciously inside the remnants of a dream. A dream where she was alive and well, always smiling, always embracing, and always loving.

“Erik.”

Her form solidified and she stood in front of me. The room changed, and furniture disappeared until nothing but bare stone remained. It was just myself and this beautiful creature. She wore her hair long with strands of light brown gently whipping her face. She had big emerald-green eyes. Her features were perfect; even the most skilled photographer and Photoshop editor couldn’t create such immaculate perfection.

Hugging her ethereal form was a white robe that hugged her frame and flapped gently in a breeze coming from nowhere.

“Erik,” she said as her lips widened into a smile and her eyes glittered with the beginnings of a teardrop.

I stared at her for what seemed like hours, too stunned to speak. She was here. I had only imagined her in my dreams but she was never this real. She looked as if I could touch her, as if I could hug her. I wanted to feel the warmth coming from her as her gentle arms curled around me.

“Mom.” My voice was broken and I could feel tears streaking down my cheek. With effort, I tore my eyes from her and looked at the distance between us. A few feet—just a few feet separating me from my mother. I took a step forwards, then another, and then another. I kept my eyes fixed on my mother; I wanted to burn her image in my brain forever.

I kept walking but she remained far from me. No matter the distance I crossed, I couldn’t reach her. I extended my hand, trying desperately to grab hold of her. Perhaps if she extended her own arm, she could pull me towards her.

“Mom,” I cried as I reached for her.

She closed her eyes and her tears doubled.

“Erik, my son. My firstborn. I love you so much. I wish I could have held you and your sister once before I left. I love you both so much, my sweet child.”

“Mom?”

What she said sounded a lot like a eulogy. Like she was about to leave again. I doubled my efforts, running like a madman.

She couldn’t leave us—me—again. She just couldn’t. Her presence would have made everything better. If I could only see her at the end of a horrible, nightmarish day, it would make everything a hundred times better. She was here now. Why would she leave?

“I’m sorry, my son,” she said. Then she smiled, making her green eyes shine brilliantly against her tears. “We will meet again, Erik. And when you join me, I’ll make up for all the times I made you cry. I am so sorry. But I will always watch over you and Gil. Always.”

Before I could utter a syllable, the room spiraled.

I saw my mom enter a black, lacquered coffin and lie inside it. She lay too still to describe as peaceful. I don’t know why people describe dead people as peaceful. They are dead. There is no peace in death—there’s nothing in death.

That’s why it’s called ‘death’.

I watched my sister sleep in a cave once. Her figure was exactly like Mom’s, with only her white-blonde hair hinting at the genes of our other ancestors. She slept as I kept watch for whatever was out to hunt us that day. The way she curled on the ground, how her chest heaved, and the way her face relaxed and displayed something other than concern and fear for the first time that day—that was peaceful.

My mother was dead.

I saw my father approach the coffin and mark the sides with sigils and signs. I saw Crowley emerge from the shadows and caress my dead mother’s face with one long finger.

I screamed at them to back away from her. Dad ignored me completely, but Crowley looked up and smiled very deliberately.

The room spun again, and I found myself suspended, my arms outstretched. Thick cord tied me to a length of wood and held me above the ground. Next to me, I saw a similar structure holding Gil in place. Her head hung downwards and she looked like she was passed out.

I screamed and yelled. I have no idea what I said or in what language. I just know that my throat burned every time I spoke. I saw my father take out a large knife. It looked like a spearhead with a ring for a cross-guard and a leather-wrapped handle. There was nothing impressive about the knife, and yet, I could feel waves of oppressive power emanating from it.

The symbols on my mother’s coffin glowed azure and so did the blade. With a wicked smile, Dad flicked the blade once and plunged it straight into Gil.

“NO!”

I struggled violently, ignoring the cuts I gave myself against the rope and the joints I was popping.

Dad extracted the blade and came in front of me. His eyes glinted with lust and desire. He placed the tip of the blade at the center of my chest and pushed. I tried crying out in pain, but it was like my body had been switched off. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, and couldn’t scream. My father grabbed the hilt and pushed it even further. Leaving the blade inside me, he simply let go and walked away.

As I felt darkness take me, I forced one eye open. I saw the lights dimming on my mother’s coffin and Crowley still there. He beamed at me and reached inside the coffin. He grabbed my mother by the hair and hoisted her up. Removing his fedora and unbuttoning the first button on his shirt, his jaws snapped wide open, revealing a series of mismatched fangs. With a growl, he clamped his jaws against my mother’s neck, shoulder and chest, and savagely began tearing out chunks of flesh.

I watched my mother being ripped apart by a monster as my father calmly walked away and became one with the faraway darkness before everything dissolved into an obsidian void.

***

I floated in a sea of red sand. Above me, and all around me, mangrove roots spiraled into each other, creating an intricate network of flora.

“Change it.” The voice seemed to boom from inside my head.

“That is your future, Erik Ashendale. Do not let it be so.”

All around me, the mangroves tightened, forming a cocoon.

“Do not let it be so, my heir. Change it. Seize the power.” The mangrove cocoon tightened around me. I expected suffocation and constriction. Instead, I felt comfort and power.

“Crowley,” I said. “Is it real? Is what I saw real?”

“Every dream is a shard of reality,” boomed the voice.

“Then give me power,” I growled. “Give me the power to destroy him and anyone who wants to hurts me or my sister. Give me the power to destroy everything.”

“Yes.”

***

The first thing I felt was heat.

Instinctively, my body jerked in motion, and I found myself running towards a wall. My sister unleashed her power and a carpet of flames covered the entire floor. The Baku leapt and twisted in midair, its claws extended. I saw its trajectory clearly. It would land on Gil and skewer her like a kebab. She was too weak to dodge and the carpet-bombing left her with little space to move.

I placed one foot on the wall, then another. The momentum carried me about six steps up the wall before I shot myself towards my sister. She had her arms covering her head, and I heard her shrill screams from far away. Still holding the morning star, I landed in front of Gil, who was still crouched, and swung the weapon like a baseball bat. The spiked ball met the monster’s head and sent it flying across the room. Gil’s fire spell had extinguished by then. The Baku crashed into the opposite wall, leaving a sizable dent.

I heard something clang against the steel ground and looked at my weapon. The morning star lay shattered in a million fragments. Dropping the useless handle, I ran towards the monster in a frenzy. I had no control over my actions; I just wanted to destroy that monster. I wanted my mother back. I wanted to protect Gil from harm.

Those thoughts guided my actions.

I saw the paw arcing towards my head and my arm rose to counter it. The monster howled as the paw snapped in two. I grabbed its underbelly.

“Where’s my mother?” I screamed at it. The monster bellowed in agony and swiped its remaining paws at me. They struck me, but as soon as my flesh tore open, my magic healed it. I regenerated so fast that my brain didn’t even have the time to send pain signals throughout my body. The Baku was not as fortunate; its paws were broken and twisted beyond healing, as if I caused the monster damage just by touching it.

“Where is she?” I screamed again, clawing at its stomach and ripping the flesh apart. With an almighty, feral roar, I tore the monster’s stomach open, sending bits of gore flying. I pulled out flesh, hoping to see something—anything—that might lead me back to my vision. I would kill Crowley and Dad. I would heal Gil and resurrect my mother. Then, we would live a happy goddamned life like we deserved.

But the Baku had nothing. It lay motionless as I dissected it mercilessly.

“WHERE IS SHE?”

I abandoned the stomach and hopped on its head.

“Give me my mother back,” I yelled as I began pounding it furiously. I have no idea how long I stayed there, punching and hitting the elephantine skull. I have no idea how long Gil screamed at me, or when the room descended back into the Zoo.

I felt a sharp smack on the back of my head and turned to face my new enemy. I made feral sounds that no human should be able to make.

Gil stood behind me, her eyes wide with fear. She held her hands in front of her, still in position after shooting out a wind spell.

“Erik?” she managed to say.

I stood up and suddenly my head cleared. I looked at the Baku carcass and nearly threw up. The monster was a raw mass of splintered bone and ravaged flesh. Its face was mush, its head nearly caved in. Its stomach lay inside out, with bits of intestine dangling from the gaping hole running along the length of its underbelly.

I looked at my hands. Blood covered them all the way to the elbow. I saw bone on my hand and tried to flick it away with disgust, but it just wouldn’t leave. Only when I tried picking the bone with my fingers did I realize that it was actually my bone. My knuckles protruded from beneath the skin, hardening into smooth, white calluses.

Black tendrils, like billows of gas, clung to my body.

Slowly, as my head cleared, I saw the bone protrusions shrink back into my hand. Skin immediately covered the wounds and I felt only a slight sting. The black tendrils surrounding me dissipated and all that remained was a dark outline, like a living shadow.

I heard Mephisto approach from behind.

“That was certainly an interesting display of pow-”

I swung my fist into him. The soft underside of my fist connected with him and the demon crashed into a table, breaking several glass beakers, showering him with chemicals that sizzled and combusted.

Gil gasped. No one had ever landed a hit on Mephisto. We grew up thinking he was invincible, a monster beyond our grasp. And yet, without thinking and without planning, I managed to send him flying with one blow.

Mephisto stood up, clutching his arm. He must have blocked at the last moment to prevent serious damage. His arm was bent in three different angles. He got to his feet and stared at me for a full minute.

“How about now?” I asked him. We both knew what I was talking about.

Crowley. He had to be destroyed. I had no proof against him, save for a vision and some chills down my spine, but I knew it deep inside my heart that he was a monster that had to be destroyed.

Mephisto’s expression changed to a sadistic smile as he grabbed his arm and twisted it back in place.

“Yes,” was all he said.

And it was all I needed.

Chapter 22

Mephisto escorted us to our bedrooms in complete silence and left us there. He hadn’t said a single word after the incident at the Zoo; it was business as usual as far as he was concerned. Gil kept asking me what was wrong. My expression must have been a dead giveaway to someone who knew me as well as she did.

I told her nothing.

What could I tell her, really? How would I even phrase it?

“Hey, sis. Remember Dad and the creepy guy with him? Yeah, I just had a vision and saw them mutilating our dead mother and killing us. So, right about now, I’m thinking of killing them before they kill us. I have no proof, by the way, but after hugging some imaginary tree roots, I seem to have awakened powers that not even our millennia-old demonic teacher can begin to understand. So, I’m gonna listen to them because good old-fashioned logic stopped working about five years ago.”

Somehow, I didn’t see that going well. My sister would play Twenty Questions and I didn’t have the answers. I knew that my father and Crowley were plotting something sinister, but I didn’t know what, why, or how. I just knew. She would tell me to wait until we had some proof, but she didn’t have that vision.

She didn’t see the expression on our mother’s face.

I mean, it’s one thing to face death defiantly and choose to fight until the bitter end, but my mother’s look was one of surrender. She had no choice but to lie in that coffin, die, and then be ravaged by a monster. It was that look which made me want to hurt Crowley so much. My mother didn’t deserve to die. I didn’t know her, but I’ve seen pictures of her. I kept a small picture of her in my bedroom, just to have something to look at that was truly beautiful. The moment I got inside my room, I sat on the bed, grabbed the small frame, and just stared at her face. She had kind eyes, the sort you cannot fake. I believe that she was a genuinely good person. No good person deserves that fate.

I must have lay there on my bed for hours, holding the picture frame high. I had burned my mother’s image into my brain for years, and yet I still couldn’t get enough. This was my relaxation time, when I would stare at the one person who provided some sort of sanctuary from this world of horror. Alone with just my thoughts and my mother.

But this time, when I gazed into those green eyes, all I managed to see was the horrified, broken expression on her face as blood splattered all over her.

I have no idea why I had the vision. Baku poison was supposed to send the victim into a trance and their minds into a dream state. As the victims sink deeper and deeper into that dream, their minds slowly shut down and the Baku gets a meal. Perhaps the toxins act as a hallucinogen. Or maybe I did enter the dream state, but my healing prevented my brain from shutting down. The voice I heard during my hallucination kept echoing inside my head like an alarm clock gone off in a faraway room.

“Every dream is a shard of reality.”

It was the same voice I heard when I got fried by the phoenix. I had gone to the same dark void, the red desert. Both times, that strange tree had been there. And both times, I had emerged more powerful than ever. Perhaps it was all a build-up to this moment. Perhaps there was some higher power guiding me through all of this, pushing me towards a goal that I had yet to discover.

Or maybe it was just me. Maybe it was my voice and my own power. The reasoning part of my head told me that things weren’t always what they seemed. I needed something to convince me that I wasn’t losing my mind.

And just like that, lying on my bed and staring at my mom’s picture, a plan formed in my head. I remembered the vision. It all happened in my father’s study, the one we were never allowed to enter. The one place where everything started: where Mephisto took us to get our initiation in the magical world; where my father nearly scorched me to death with a purple fire phantasm. If there were secrets to be found, they would be in there.

But how would I get in? There were locks, bolts, wards, charms, you name it. Nothing was getting inside that office without a specific key, just like the Arena or the Zoo.

My mind connected two and two and I sat up so suddenly that my abdominal muscles cramped.

Of course. How could I have been so dumb?

I wiped sweat from my brow and placed my mother’s picture against my chest. It all made sense now. Gil and I didn’t need to train inside the Zoo, not when we had trained in the forest for nearly our entire lives.

We were being trained for sabotage.

It was the only thing that made sense. We knew how to capture and kill monsters. But Mephisto took a step further and taught us all about locks and seals. He seemed to know exactly what my father was planning, but couldn’t say. I remembered the lesson about demons. He had casually mentioned the contract he had with our father. There was no need to do that and yet he did nonetheless. The same thing with channels. Why raise the subject of super-channels if none of us could use them? He wasn’t surprised to see me die and heal back to life. Rather, it was more like he was waiting for it. He was training us not only to survive, but to rule.

All the pieces fit perfectly inside my head, and I was looking at a completed puzzle for the first time. He had taught us all we needed to know to overthrow our father and rule for ourselves. The question was, why? Why go against his master?

I rolled off my bed, stood up and opened the drawer. I kissed the picture and placed it back inside before reaching in again and pulling out a folding knife. After slipping the knife inside my pocket and walking to the door, I stayed there motionless, with my fingers curled around the door handle for a few minutes, collecting my thoughts and clearing my mind.

Tonight, I would break inside my father’s office. The locks would be easy. If there were phantasms or monsters guarding inside I would have to improvise, but I doubted that Dad would leave any creature to guard his valuable trove of information. You could never trust monsters: too smart, and they backstabbed you; too dumb, and they might just turn on you. Either way, I was confident that I could take on anything I met on my own. The knife would be less than useless, but having some sort of a weapon in my hand made me feel safe. The tricky part was the distance required. I had to move to the other side of the mansion, and do so without raising the alarm. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. Midnight. It was two hours past curfew and the entire place was on lockdown. Gil and I never dared venture out of our rooms past our bedtime. Usually, we were too exhausted to even consider it. But now that I thought about it, we didn’t know what went on at night in this house. This could make or break my plan, and if I got caught before finding what I wanted I would never get another chance.

I took a deep breath. If I lingered any longer I would probably chicken out. If needed, I would fight my way through. And I doubt even the toughest security guard on the premises had been through even an iota of the harsh training my sister and I had been through. Mephisto always used to tell us that if we could survive in a forest filled with monsters, we could survive anywhere.

Time to see if he was right.

I spent the night walking silently from one end of the house to the other. The wide corridors provided ample space to walk, but the overhead lights dimly illuminated everything. I had to press against the sides of the corridors, where shadows overlapped and provided me with some cover. I didn’t have as much liberty as I wanted; I had to stick to one side, away from the windows, or risk the patrol outside catching my shadow against the glass. Stealthily walking around your own house was not an easy thing. I kept my center of gravity low and my pace light, trying to avoid making a sound, and at the same time listening intently for anyone coming my way.

Turns out I had nothing to worry about. My legs ached after crossing an entire mansion, semi-crouched and taking one soft step at a time. I pressed against the wall and just as I began wondering why the mansion was devoid of security at this time of night, I caught a glimpse of one guard patrolling the corridor where I needed to go.

He wore the usual black camo outfit, and carried a small caliber automatic weapon from a strap across his shoulder. Around his belt, he wore several black cases and pockets—no doubt a small supply of magical ingredients. I’d seen his type before and knew these security guards weren’t powerful wizards. They usually fought as a team, overwhelming monsters with a relentless assault in numbers. This one looked young enough, probably around twenty years old. He must have been a new recruit to get stuck with guard duty.

He hasn’t noticed me yet, I thought as I grasped my knife and gently unfolded it. I didn’t have to kill him, just incapacitate him long enough to get what I wanted and then bolt. I could easily knock him out.

I turned to make my move, but before I could take one step, I heard a low growl from my feet. My heart nearly stopped as I saw a large, black figure, its yellow eyes peering into my own. I froze on the spot and the dog ceased growling.

Mephisto. What was he doing here? Where did he come from?

Was he going to stop me?

With a soft whimper, the dog turned tail and walked around the corner, into the corridor where I was headed.

“Who’s there?” I heard the security guard ask roughly as he levered himself away from the wall and tightly clenched his cigarette between his teeth. His hands were already on his weapon.

Mephisto walked up to him, his tongue hanging out. This was it. He would alert the guard and it would all be over. I pressed my back against the wall and squeezed the knife until the rubber of the handle dug painfully into my palm. I mustered the courage to peer around the corner, expecting the guard to call me out.

“Oh, it’s just you,” said the guard, as he leaned back against the wall and took a drag from his cigarette. I saw Mephisto turn his head back, looking at me, and he walked over to the other side of the corridor. He growled and let out a sharp bark before taking off.

“Shit,” swore the guard as he put out his cigarette and bolted after the dog.

I walked in front of the office door and looked over to where Mephisto and the guard had disappeared. Had Mephisto really just helped me out, or did he actually see something more suspicious than a sixteen-year-old with a knife trembling in the shadows of his own house? Either way, I took a deep breath and muttered my thanks to whatever kept the demon from ratting me out.

Now, I had to deal with opening the door. I instantly recognized the generic seal on the doorframe. Deciphering some of the components took a bit of a memory jog as I tried to remember all that Mephisto taught us. I began working on the familiar sigils, pouring traces of magic inside them, short-circuiting them, or just scratching the carving. It took the better part of an hour, working my knife and magic as precisely as I could. This was meant to be delicate surgical work, although with my lack of finesse, most sigils ended up looking like a child’s scrawl. Either way, I brought the system down and all I had to do then was pick the lock.

As I bent down to pry my knife inside, I noticed it was a modern mechanical lock. The keyhole was so small that not even a hairpin could fit inside, let alone a blade. I stood up and paced around for a moment, frustration and panic beginning to settle in. That guard might come back anytime. I thumbed the metal door handle, hoping for inspiration. Maybe if I begged it hard enough, the door would just snap open of its own free will. No such luck.

What could I do? I had taken down a series of magical locks, but some dumb mechanical bolt was stumping me? Just my luck.

And then, I remembered the bike. That bike I rusted somehow and whose owner beat me up on the same day my father divulged the truth to us. Maybe I could pull off the same stunt again. Heck, I had destroyed enough weapons just by pouring magic through them. Why should a lock be any different?

I grasped the handle tightly and channeled my magic through it. The effect was instantaneous. There was a loud crack and the handle snapped off. It crumbled into iron filings inside my hand as the door swung open. The lock was cracked and shattered beyond recognition, and a small patch of rust had formed where the bolt held tightly to the frame. I quickly got in and shut the door behind me. I groped around the shelves until I felt a large volume and extracted it. Holding it in place behind the door, I hoped the guard wouldn’t return and decide to lean against it.

Once inside, I looked around. The familiar couches sat next to a fireplace that was now extinguished. I remembered those statues on the mantelpiece, little trinkets that had absolutely no significance before. Now, I recognized a were-tiger fang and a claw as long as a dagger which, according to Mephisto, belonged to a dangerous breed of demon known as asmodaii. I’d never heard anything official about them—maybe the asshole was just making stuff up to scare me.

The right side of the room was veiled in darkness. I remembered the half-empty bookshelves and a single bench with a few ingredients, but if memory served me well, it was mostly barren. So, why did I feel an urge to inch closer and closer?

I walked towards the darkened corner, deviating from my path only to find a switch and flick it. Dim lights came on, shedding the darkness, and there I saw a black lacquered coffin, emblazoned with sigils. The same coffin I saw in my vision.

I stared at it, my heart thumping so hard it hammered against my throat. My mother’s coffin. Was she inside?

I traced the lid of the coffin, looking for something to hold onto and pry it open with. I dug my fingers into it and lifted. The coffin didn’t budge an inch. I found another place and tried again.

Same result.

I kept circling around, throwing all of my strength into it, magically enhanced or not, but the coffin seemed to weigh a ton. Flustered, I let go, puffing hard and taking a few steps backward. I felt something against my hip, and heard the telltale sounds of something toppling over and hitting the ground. There was no crash, only the ruffling of pages and a small thunk of wood hitting wooden floors. I thought I had knocked over one of the many books and candleholders lying around the place, when I heard someone yell out.

“Hey, dumbass, watch where you’re going. I was just getting to the good part.”

Chapter 23

The knife was in my hand in seconds and for a tense moment all I heard was the flick of the blade snapping in place and my heartbeat drumming against my ears.

“Who’s there?” I whispered hoarsely, immediately going into a fighting stance with the knife close to me for defense.

“Over here,” the voice said.

I looked in the direction where I thought the voice was coming from. The coffin was now behind me, and I stared at a corner where one half-stocked bookshelf met another. On the ground were a few books, one of which I recognized as Romeo and Juliet. A wide barstool rolled lazily against the wooden floor. Beside it were two candleholders with pieces of blackened wax adhering to them and a life-sized wooden statue of a cat, now lying on its side.

“Down here, dumbass.”

I inched closer to the bookshelves and crouched down. Maybe there was one of those fairytale imps or pixies in here, even though Mephisto said that those were just imaginary creatures. And after facing real monsters, the supernatural stops being an Enid Blyton short story and becomes more Lovecraftian.

Or maybe the voice was coming from the books. But books couldn’t talk, could they?

“Oh, man, you blind or something? Down here,” said the voice.

I scanned the floor and lightly poked the statue of the cat. “Um, hi?” I said, lifting the statue upright.

“Took you long enough,” it said.

I nearly dropped it.

“Jeez, man, get a grip,” it said. “You play around with a coffin all night, but when the cat talks, it’s freaky? The hell you doing in here anyway?”

“What are you?” I asked, holding the statue at arm’s length.

“You must be one of them slow kids, right? I’m a talking statue of a cat. Get over it.”

“What are you doing in my Dad’s office?”

“That crazy son of a bitch is your old man? Dude, I am so sorry for you.”

I stood up and placed the cat on the barstool I set right again. “What do you know about Dad?”

“He’s your father, ain’t he? Ask him.”

“We’re more what you call a dysfunctional family.”

“Oh, man, I feel you. I got three assholes for brothers and none of ‘em are animal statues. I think.”

“What are you?” I asked again. This statue was seriously freaking me out, but I just couldn’t get enough of it. I’ve seen some weird stuff in my life, but bonding over family matters with a wooden carving certainly takes the cake.

“Better you don’t know, kid. Not that I could tell you anyway. But I will tell you this: your old man is insane,” it said.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I muttered.

“No, kid, you ain’t hearin’ me. I mean, really insane. Talking all the time about hidden gods and power sources and sacrificing children. Oh, wait, if you’re his child that means he wants to sacrifice you.” The statue paused. “Nice meetin’ ya, kid.”

“Not gonna happen,” I growled.

“Well, you got spirit. But he’s out of his damn mind. I mean, he’s even got some poor chick trapped inside that coffin.”

I snapped my head back. Trapped? Did that mean she could be still alive?

Was my mother alive?

“How do I get the coffin open?” I snapped at the cat.

“Dude, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. She ain’t pretty. All dead and stuff.”

A part of me died when he said she was dead. I let my hopes rise up too fast. But still, she deserved a proper burial at the very least.

“She’s my mother.” The words rolled heavily off my lips.

“Ah, man, you mean to tell me he’s got his own lover in there and plans to kill his kids? That SOB is all kinds of evil.”

“Just tell me how to open the coffin,” I said savagely as I grabbed the statue and stood.

“Hey, man, calm your ass down,” replied the cat. “You see that on top of the coffin?”

I looked at the coffin. A strange blade was embedded deeply inside of it and only a ring-shaped cross-guard and the handle were visible. I recognized that design—it was the sword my father used to stab Gil and me in the Baku’s vision.

“You gotta get that thing outta there,” continued the cat.

“How do I do that?”

“Are you really dumb? You’ve never watched any of that King Arthur shit? Same way you pull any sword, man: grab the handle and yank it. I mean, how old are you, fourteen, fifteen? I really shouldn’t be explaining the whole yanking process to you.”

I placed the cat down.

“Wait, wait,” I heard it call. “There’s something inside the sword, so you gotta battle it. In your head, I mean. You gotta mentally whip it.”

“Anything else?” I inched closer and closer to the sword handle.

“Yeah. Could you put Romeo and Juliet back under me? I was getting to the hot part.”

The sword handle was warm. I sat awkwardly on top of the coffin, crouched around the protruding weapon. I wrapped my fingers around the sword and used my legs to pull it free. The weapon budged slightly before something pulled it back in place. I redoubled my efforts and again it felt like I was playing tug of war on top of my mother’s coffin.

“Why isn’t it moving?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“Probably ‘cause of the Jinn in there,” I heard the cat say nonchalantly behind me.

“Jinn?”

“You’ll see,” it replied dismissively.

Before I could ask any more questions, something cold pierced my head and I went blind. I yelled for help but I couldn’t hear my own voice. I was in darkness, and the only thing I could perceive was the handle of a blade, which was embedded in a black surface inside a black room. In front of me, I saw something blue shimmering to life, like wisps of smoke converging. A long tendril of azure adhered to the pommel of the sword, and elongated to form a cloud of swirling blue smoke.

”Your fault.” The voice boomed from all directions. It wasn’t a sound as much as a sensation, as if my very heart was able to speak. The voice came with images. I saw my sister and my mother in brief flashes, before I felt something hard pressing against my chest.

“Your fault,” the voice said again. The blob of azure had formed into a humanoid torso, complete with thin, wispy arms and a head with no features whatsoever.

“What is?” I managed to say.

The creature hovered closer, still attached to the handle by a thin wisp of blue smoke. It had no hips or legs. Instead, its torso just narrowed down into a strand of smoke attached to the pommel. A genie, I thought. Just like in Aladdin. Except this one seemed less likely to grant me three wishes and be a cartoon voiced by a comedian.

“Death, suffering, misery,” it echoed from inside me. I saw flashes of Gil running from fire and screaming as her arms blistered and burned. I saw her run away from a Baku as she tried not to pass out from magic overuse.

“You cause pain.” I felt my arms burn and sear. I felt all the exhaustion in the world, and panic overtook my senses. I felt what Gil had felt all those times I had been knocked out.

“You break the rules, so she suffers. You are too weak, so she suffers.”

I saw Crowley’s image flash before me and Gil’s expression the first time I tried to attack him. I felt her concern and worry when I attacked the Baku mercilessly, mutilating it as I screamed for our mother.

“You killed her, Erik Ashendale. You killed your mother.”

I saw my mother lying on a hospital bed, her belly round and swollen as she struggled to give birth to her firstborn—me. I saw her life force in tendrils of magic and color, each of them disappearing into nothingness as she slowly died from exhaustion. I heard the nurses encourage her to push and her screams of effort and pain. I heard the cry of a newborn and her gasp that was also her final breath. I saw the mother and child make eye contact before the mother screamed again and tried to birth the second child.

I knew how this story ended: she would die before the second child came out. They had to cut her open and scoop out my sister.

And it was all because of me. I knew it was the Jinn’s influence, but the guilt, the pain, the emotion, it was all so real. I was born and she died. I was alive, and she lay dead in a coffin. I knew it was silly, that it wasn’t my fault, that shit happens in life, but the only thing that made sense was the parallel my mind was running.

I had robbed my mother of her life.

I had no idea when my knees buckled. All I knew was that the sword handle was at eye level and my head pressed against the pommel. My fingers were white around the handle and the azure gas swam around my face. I felt tears running down my cheeks and heard myself crying out.

“Please, stop it. Please. Please, just stop. No more.”

I looked up for a response and found the Jinn staring back at me with its blue blob of a head. It extended one arm and pointed at me with its index finger.

“You will cause immeasurable suffering to those around you. To those who love you.”

I saw two women fighting in a parking lot, back to back. One, I recognized as Gil. Her long, white hair was a dead giveaway. She spun with the grace of a swan and waved a length of wood about three feet long. Her figure was surrounded with a white aura as one spell after the other shot out from the stick, catching monsters dead-on. The attackers were identical, with slim bodies and long arms. Some had blades instead of hands, others had long, curved claws. When they moved on their reverse-jointed legs, their long, prehensile tails waved gracefully.

The other girl was a dark figure, shrouded in a darkness darker than black. She fought more ferociously than Gil, swinging a staff about seven feet tall and literally throwing monsters away with every swing. Unlike the graceful and cautious Gil, she was a blur of savagery—a ferocious void, save a red tinge around her head and the golden flash of her weapon.

I saw an aircraft fly above them, its shadow covering the women. When it passed, the monsters were gone, and on the ground lay a man with a long leather coat. His body was a gruesome mess of ripped organs and jutting bones. The women surrounded him, each trying to heal him. They yelled something inaudible, and I saw the obscure woman hit the man on the chest, trying desperately to revive him. I didn’t need to hear her screams of despair—I could feel every ounce of her agony inside my chest. It burned like hot lead. It felt as if my heart had been crushed and all I had left in the world was to wallow in sadness and despair before I simply died.

“And you will suffer, Erik Ashendale. Because of your guilt. Because it is all your fault.”

I saw a man sitting on the floor. He wore the same black trench coat I saw on the guy in the previous vision. This man looked like he had been through hell. His graying hair matched his thick beard, and he looked like he hadn’t showered in months. His skin was a sickly yellow, and veins popped as he lifted a whiskey bottle to drain its remains. He looked me dead in the eyes. They were green, just like mine. They were, in fact, my eyes.

This man was me—this was my future.

I slammed my head against the sword pommel, just so I would feel something other than the pain in my chest. My eyes burned from hard crying and I wanted to throw up.

“I’m so sorry,” I moaned amidst heavy sobbing. “I’m so sorry.” I kept repeating that sentence, over and over again. Not that it would make any difference. Nothing could alleviate this heaviness and this pain inside me. Nothing at all, not even death.

I felt the sword grow warm in my hands and against my forehead, and heard a different voice around me.

“I will give you the power to change your destiny.”

It was the same voice I heard in my vision of the mangrove tree. The sword heated up and glowed a bright azure. I closed my eyes and tried to find my resolve. It may have been my fault that Gil got hurt, and it may have been my fault that Mom died, but the truth was those were things of the past. I couldn’t change them, no amount of magic could. I had to protect Gil. I had to make things right. I had to stop the suffering, both hers and mine.

I took a deep breath and pulled the sword. It relinquished itself to me, and I held it up in the air as it illuminated the entire room with painfully bright light.

Once I calmed down and the heaviness left my chest I slid down from the coffin.

“Made it back, huh?” I heard the cat statue say. “Wasn’t expecting you back so soon. Or ever.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I laid my hands on the coffin, feeling the smooth, cool surface.

“Yeah, well, what did you expect? At least the crying and sobbing part was fun to watch. Way better than the damn book.”

“Not a Shakespeare fan?”

“After that major cock block, hell no. I mean, after the whole lovey-dovey build up I’d expect some serious porkies. But no, the dumbass had to go kill ‘em off. Screw him, I’m switching over to Marlowe from now on. What are you gonna do with that?” it asked.

I lifted the sword. “I like it. It feels natural. Guess I’ll keep it.” I definitely wasn’t going to hand it over to my father.

“Then give it a name already,” said the cat.

“Name? Why does a short sword need a name?”

“Because it’s alive, dumbass. That Jinn is still alive inside it. Has no one ever explained the concept of a channel to you?”

I waved the sword around tentatively. Was this one of those super channels that Mephisto had described?

“Does the Jinn have a name?” I asked.

“Why are you asking me?” replied the statue.

“Because you seem to know everything.”

“It doesn’t have a name. Monsters don’t usually have names. That’s a human thing.”

“Well, then I’m gonna call it Djinn.” I smiled at the sword. “Yeah. Djinn.”

“The Jinn? How is that different from a generic Jinn?”

“No. Djinn. A ‘D’ instead of ‘the’. You know, so it sounds cool,” I explained.

The cat chuckled and sighed. “Djinn? Seriously? Man, do yourself a favor—stop nerding out and get outta the damn house. You need some pussy, stat.”

“What’s your name?” I asked the statue.

“None of your business. I’m just a statue of a cat. And don’t you dare call me ‘D-cat’ or some shit. Makes me feel all gaggy inside.”

I smiled and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and lifted the lid of the coffin. Inside, I saw a body wrapped in bandages, with bloody spots checkered all over the figure. Her head was loosely covered in bandages, and her hair hung loose. I could see bits of raw flesh from underneath the wrappings and my stomach turned. Instead, I focused on her hair. I ran a finger through one of her strands and felt a bundle of hair clumped together with hardened blood. I pressed against the clump and tried to crumble the solidified blood.

My mother. My dead mother lay here, not even fully covered. She was just a tool, an ingredient. She looked fully preserved, as if she had died just yesterday, and a lump formed in my throat.

“You’re not gonna see what’s underneath?” asked the cat.

I took my arm out and closed the lid of the coffin.

“No,” I replied. “I want to remember her how she used to be.” The beginnings of a tear burned around my eye, and I defiantly held it back. The time for crying was over.

“Tell me what he’s planning,” I told the cat.

“Take me to the desk over there,” it replied. I picked up the cat gently and walked over behind the desk.

“The thick journal in front of you. Open it to where the red ribbon is,” instructed the cat.

I placed it on the table and put Djinn beside it. The ledger was barely held together and looked older than most things my father owned. Most of the pages were loose, fitted inside as makeshift reference notes.

I read something titled Siphoning Ritual. Other than the title, I couldn’t understand much so I asked for the cat for help.

“Says here that in order to siphon one’s power you need a blood relative and a ritualistic sacrifice on a moonless night. Other than that, it’s just notes on power sources and how power is inherited from one generation to the next. Dude, I think your father is gonna end up powerless.”

“How?”

“Well, it says here that something in your family tree is draining all the magic from its members and shoving it into the newest members as they mature. In short, you.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Hang on, there’s more. There’s a whole paragraph here about power being divided.”

“I have a twin sister.”

The cat paused. “And you’re telling me this now?”

“You never asked.”

“Whatever. Flip the page, will you?” the statue urged.

I obeyed, only to be stopped after one page turn.  “What, what?” I asked.

“Just as I thought. This whole thing is a curse, affecting the entire family tree. It dates back centuries, as far as your old man can tell. He’s trying to reverse the effects and keep all the power to himself.”

“How do I stop him?” I asked.

“Well, you could just not show up. But it’s gotta be a double no-show ‘cause I think the spell might still work with just one member, even if it gets all crooked. And I’m not sure where that chick over there enters, but I figure she’s some key ingredient. So, just burn her and send everything to hell.”

I grabbed the cat roughly. “That’s my mother over there. Don’t talk about her like that. And I am not burning her. Or destroying her in any way.”

“Hey, I’m just shootin’ out ideas here, man. I like you way better than that insane jackass.”

“Well, what other ideas do you have besides running and burning corpses?”

“You could always do it the old-fashioned way. Kill him. No Warlock, no dark spell,” said the cat. “Just make sure I get a front seat to that bloodbath,” he added slyly.

I traced my fingers on the sharp edges of the short sword. The tiniest drop of blood smeared the edge. A monster, that’s what the Jinn had called me.

My father had never shown the tiniest trace of love towards his family. He left my sister and me to our own devices, and then dropped us off to be mentored by a demon without so much as the slightest concern. He only started giving a damn when we began showing some serious power. And on top of that, he was involved in the death of our mother, his wife. Now, he wanted to kill us all just so he could take our the power. My father was a monster, a real monster. He chose to be evil, the same way he chose to kill our mother and stuff her in a coffin so that he could use her later to kill his children. This had nothing to do with love—that man had no love from me or my sister.

This had now become a matter of survival and the last thing anyone wanted to do was put me in a corner.

I love my sister. I love my mother.

My father, Crowley, Mephisto, the entire staff at the mansion—they were all outsiders who had just become enemies. So, I will do what I know how to do best.

Time to hunt some monsters.

“When will this take place?” I asked.

“It says here on a moonless night,” replied the cat.

“When’s that?”

The cat took a moment before replying.

“Tomorrow.”

My heart skipped a beat. Tomorrow—we were going to die in less than twenty four hours.

“Hey, kid,” said the cat. I managed to turn my head and look at it, although my body was pretty much acting on instinct. “Could you turn me around so I can see your horrified expression?”

Chapter 24

My mind and body worked in overdrive.

With the sword in hand, I rushed towards my room and swiped as much stuff as I could into a rucksack. Blankets, water bottles, matches, a flashlight, crystals, anything needed for a long stay in the forest. I wrapped Djinn inside a blanket and stuffed it on top of everything else in the rucksack. If I met any resistance, that blade would taste blood.

I entered Gil’s room without knocking. Her room was as Spartan as mine, although she did have a desk with a ton of books on it.

“Gil.” I shook her awake. She peeled her eyes open and pulled her hair from her face.

“What are you doing here, Erik? What time is it?” She moaned, squeezing her eyes shut, and rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“No time to explain,” I said urgently. “Get changed and pack whatever you need. We’re staying in the forest for a couple of days.”

She got up. “Erik, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’m not just going to leave here without a proper reason. Now, please leave so I can go back to sleep.” She eyed me with intense green eyes. “I suggest you do the same.”

I walked away and spun in a circle. I did not need this. We had to leave now.

“I found out what they’re planning, Gil,” I said as I grabbed her shoulder. “Dad found out there’s a curse in our bloodline and he’s gonna reverse it by killing both of us and draining our power. It’s all here in these papers.” I waved a few pages in her face.

She held her hand up. “There is no curse, Erik. You’re just angry at Crowley because of what he said. He’s a creep, and he managed to get under your skin. Just let it go.”

I stuffed the papers back in the rucksack. “He’s got Mom.”

“What?”

“He’s got Mom,” I repeated. “In a coffin marked with symbols. I traced some of them ‘cause I couldn’t make out what they were for, but you can. He’s gonna use her for the Ritual, Gil, I know it. And it’s all gotta take place tomorrow night when there’s no moon.”

“Are you sure it was Mom?”

“Yes,” I nearly yelled. “I copied the spell from Dad’s journal-”

“You broke into Dad’s office?”

“-so that you can see it, too. I’m no good with symbols and stuff but you can understand it better. All I know is that it’s all gotta take place tomorrow night, and he’s gonna use Mom’s corpse in some way.”

Gil winced when I said corpse. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Listen to me,” I said gently. “The day we fought the phoenix, after we beat it before Mephisto came in, we both felt power through us.” Her eyes widened. “And the moment we touched hands, we each saw something. I saw a lot of white. I’m guessing you saw a lot of black.”

She remained silent, staring at me with eyes identical to mine.

“We both have our own private inner worlds and somehow they are connected. That’s what we saw. This whole thing with Mom and Dad and the curse and our visions and my powers,” I waved my arms around for emphasis, “it’s all connected. And if we don’t run away right now we are going to die in less than twenty-four hours. By our own father’s hands.”

Gil blinked once, then twice. “Give me a minute to get ready,” she said.

We took turns watching over each other that night. Or rather, we took turns watching each other try to sleep. I kept twisting and turning, trying to find that one spot where my hip didn’t dig into some small stone. My thoughts wandered around, making sleep completely impossible.

The sun had just risen when we decided to venture out of our hidey-hole and find some food and drink. There was a stream up ahead from our cave, maybe an hour’s walk. We had to be careful and cover our tracks, but it wasn’t something we hadn’t done before. This forest was our playground, and those security guards in the mansion sure as hell would not find us unless we wanted to be found.

We sat down by the stream eating a protein bar and scooping water into our flasks. Gil sat quietly under a tree and was completely absorbed by the papers I’d given her. Before leaving Dad’s office last night, I had found a stack of papers and copied the entire ritual down. I also traced down the symbols on Mom’s coffin. It took me a few minutes as I worked automatically, ignoring everything around me, including the talkative cat statue. After reading those notes Gil came over to my side, figuratively speaking, although she did berate me for not including her in my grand plan of infiltration.

We were halfway through our breakfast when the black dog emerged from the bushes and came in full view. I had my hand on Djinn and extracted the blade for the first time since taking it from the coffin. Gil looked at the dog cautiously, then at my short sword, and back at the dog. It paced around with its head low and tongue lolling out. It breathed heavily, as if it had run for miles. The wind picked up lightly, rustling leaves and causing them to tumble around in wide circles. The dog disappeared and Mephisto, in his impeccable suit and polished shoes, stood very still in its place. I raised my blade, pointing its tip towards the demon. There wasn’t much I could do if it came down to a showdown between us and Mephisto, but at least now I knew I could wound him, maybe even take him down with me.

Mephisto slowly walked over to me, completely ignoring the sword pointed at him. He bent down and scooped up my water flask, draining it in one go.

“It took me five hours to track you down,” he said. A proud smile appeared on his face. “Well done.”

“Why are you here?” Gil asked.

“He probably wants to take us back,” I said.

“Yes, and no,” Mephisto said. He raised his hands. “I am here because it is time that someone divulged the whole truth to you, the descendants of the Ashendale clan.”

He motioned with his hands. “Please, sit and listen intently. We have little time if my plan is to work.”

We sat down in a circle, rolling boulders near each other. Mephisto removed his swallow-tailed jacket and dropped it carelessly on the ground. His white shirt shone bright as the sun’s rays hit him.

“First, I must explain my own situation,” he began. “If you remember my lesson on demons, you would remember also a small comment I made when I mentioned that some demons can be placed under contract with humans. This applies to me. I am bound to your father, forced to abide by his orders. It is not that straightforward, however. Demons bound by such a contract often find themselves being changed. Demons, you see, do not have such a thing as a personality—that is exclusively a human trait. When bound to a human, we often begin developing a personality similar to that of our owner. Over the years, I have become more power-hungry and unstable.”

“Yeah, we noticed,” I muttered.

“Yes, I must apologize for that.”

“What changed?” Gil asked.

“I had a revelation last night. Thanks to Erik, I communicated with my brother for the first time in centuries,” he replied, smiling at me.

“Brother?” I asked. Did that mean there were more of his type out there? Talk about your nightmares. One was already a handful—the last thing the world needed was two manipulating demons.

“The cat,” Mephisto replied. “His name is Amaymon.”

“Oh, yeah. He did mention he had an asshole for a brother.”

“Yes, we disagree on most things. It is our nature. But we do agree on one: no one must tamper with our nature. Your father is changing me, turning me into a twisted version of himself. This will lead to a situation where, one day, he will completely subdue me, and that must never happen,” he said emphasizing the last few words.

“In light of that, I managed to find a loophole in my contract with your father, and this is why I am here, now,” he continued.

“Well, that’s nice and all,” I said, “but I’m more interested in the whole family secret thing.”

“Yes, I was just coming to that,” the demon replied. “It all began in a time before time. These events occurred so long ago that most of them were not recorded, due to language having not yet fully developed. The magical community consisted of clans, large collectives of families who all had an ancestor in common. The Ashendale clan was a prominent clan of Warlocks, wizards who dedicated themselves to exploring the worlds beyond this one. They invaded and conquered wherever they went, often enslaving the population for their knowledge and powers. They established themselves as one of the most powerful magical clans in the history of this plane.”

“Everything, however, changed at the height of their prominence. Nothing was documented about the world they invaded, save that many of those who returned called its inhabitants gods. The clan conquered a small fraction of this world before it began to collapse on itself. This was a fragile world, held together by a delicate balance—a balance that your distant ancestors upset. What followed next is highly ambiguous, and most of it is driven from speculation, but we think the so-called gods placed a curse on their invaders in retaliation. Your father is obsessed with finding out what this curse is. In simplified terms, all the power is siphoned from the elder members of the clan and passed through the younger generation as they grow. Eventually, the only members with any power would be the last generation, leaving the others as powerless husks of their former selves.”

“So, this is what’s happening now?” Gil asked. “We are absorbing our Dad’s power?”

“Your father has the collective power of all the previous members of the clan. He is the last Ashendale, now that your mother has passed. Your father made sure to eliminate any other members of the bloodline, monopolizing his power.”

“That can’t be good news for us,” I remarked.

“No. You are at the top of his list of people to eliminate,” Mephisto replied. “The Ashendale clan imposed two laws on its people. The first was that no family could sire more than one child. This made sure that the elder members would have some power remaining, even with the curse still active. The second was that Ashendale members had to breed with other members, so as to keep the powers within the clan.”

“Ew,” Gil said with a look of repulsion on her face.

“Now I know why we never had any black cousins,” I said with a grin.

“It was a necessary survival tool,” Mephisto replied. “This situation is troubling for your father. Not only are his powers decreasing, but they are being split in two, because there are two of you.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” I asked. “The less power he has, the less trouble he gives us.”

“Yes, that would be the case, were it not for Alastair Crowley. That man is giving power to your father, supplying it like a drug. And once the Siphoning Ritual is complete, your father will become more powerful than you could ever imagine.”

That pretty much silenced us.

“Your father’s time is limited. He must complete the Ritual tonight, before his powers deplete to the point of uselessness. Crowley’s aid would only suffice for a few more weeks before taking their toll,” Mephisto said.

“Why?” Gil slapped her fist on the stack of papers on her lap. “Why would a father want to kill his own children? What power could ever be worth all that?”

“This one,” Mephisto replied without so much as a pause. “Imagine the power to reshape the world as he sees fit, to control everything and everyone. He could extinguish lives with a mere thought, and he could even resurrect the dead. He could resurrect your mother.”

“And for that, he kills his children?” she screamed back. Gil had tears streaking down her face. Her knuckles were white as she slammed them on the papers before throwing them off her lap.

“Your father is a madman,” Mephisto said.

“And the worst thing madmen can have is power. Their worst nightmare is losing that power,” I said. “We are no longer important to him, Gil.”

“And you can just accept that?” she directed at me.

“Yes. Because he’s never shown any form of love or care towards us. He kept us simply to kill us when the time was right,” I replied, louder than I had intended. I took a few deep breaths. “I’ve seen what he’ll do to us.” I stabbed Djinn into the ground in front of us. “He’ll use that to stab us. He’ll start with you and make me watch. Then, he’ll kill me. All the while, Crowley is eating our mother’s corpse. You wanna know why I’m accepting this? Because if I don’t, the one person in my life that I truly care about will die.”

Gil looked down and wiped her tears away. “When did you see it?”

“The Baku’s poison. It’s a hallucinogen of sorts.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I need you with me on this, Gil.”

She nodded, her eyes hard.

“Well,” Mephisto said. “Now that you two are done with your heart-to-heart, shall we move on to the plan I devised?”

When we said nothing, he continued.

“Yesterday, I went to your father’s office after you broke in. It was a sloppy infiltration, mind you. I went there with the intention of removing any trace of sabotage. However, I discovered that a certain artifact,” he said pointing at Djinn with a gloved finger, “was missing. So, I made sure to cover Erik’s tracks and told my master that a mysterious person broke in yesterday. After outrunning me and knocking you out after entering your room by mistake, he disappeared. I then instructed you to hide in the forest for safety as I made sure that no further intruders were lurking around.”

“And he bought that?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“Yes. After he saw that the sword was missing he ceased to care about anything else,” the demon replied. “He has summoned you this morning for breakfast. I suggest that you hide that weapon, Master Erik, and both of you stick to my story.”

“What is that sword?” Gil asked.

“A very powerful relic,” Mephisto replied. “It was a channel, one of the special ones I told you about. It belonged to an ancestor from your mother’s side. And it is now Erik’s personal channel of power.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” she asked me.

“I’m still trying to figure it out myself,” I replied.

“Be that as it may, that artifact may no longer be used for the nefarious purpose your father planned for it,” Mephisto said. “But as long as he has Crowley to supply power, your mother’s corpse, and you two, he may still enact the Ritual.”

“So, how do we stop him?” I asked.

Mephisto stood up and picked up his jacket. “Play along for now. Go back home, act indifferent. Once you are finished seeing your father, meet me for a lesson. We will discuss a plan of action and examine the details of the Ritual.” His form shimmered and he transformed into a large, black dog.

“Thank you,” Gil said as she stood and began gathering her stuff.

The dog turned its snout to face us. “Everything in this world has a price,” it said with a low voice. “My services included.”

Chapter 25

“Daddy!”

Gil ran the last few steps and threw her arms around our father. Dad hugged her back as she dug her head in his shoulder and began sobbing.

It seemed a little over the top to me, but I suppose to someone who barely knew his own children, nothing would seem out of the ordinary. Gil was a good actress. Dad was completely taken by her performance.

I lingered a few feet away, bending and trying not to fall down from exhaustion. It wasn’t completely an act. After an adrenaline-fueled evening, where I received a permanent emotional scar and a sleepless night in a forest full of lurking monsters, it wasn’t acting. I really was tired.

Just not as tired and weak as I was letting on. When Dad came looming over me, I was down on one knee, panting hard. It was a psychological message—I bow to you, my superior. I hated myself for acting all weak and submissive, but it was vital for him to think that we were nothing but two teenage children with little control over our powers and no clue as to what was awaiting us once night fell.

Dad placed his hand on my shoulder and helped me up.

“Are you alright, son?” he said. I could see traces of concern behind his spectacles. Perhaps there was still some humanity inside him.

“I’m fine. Just had a tough night,” I replied, without making too much eye contact. I wasn’t exactly subtle with my feelings. I was afraid of showing him too much, of giving off some signal that would jeopardize our faked innocence.

“Understandable,” my father said. “Both of you need to rest after such a night. But first, go shower off the filth and join me for breakfast.” His tone was so sweet and caring. It shouldn’t be allowed. Bad people should just speak with subtle growls and no emotion. For a second, I couldn’t believe that this bespectacled, middle-aged, wiry guy in front of me was a psychotic maniac who was going to sacrifice his children for the sake of power. For the briefest of moments, I could actually believe he was a caring father, acting all concerned when his twin children showed up on his doorstep covered in grime and exhausted. I could believe that he was capable of something called love.

Then again, crocodiles always smile as they bite your head off.

Our dining area consisted of a huge room decorated with ostentatious, tall portraits of some very unfortunate-looking family members who were either naturally ugly or unlucky enough to find a dyslexic painter. The rectangular table was too long, enough to seat twenty people. I’m not sure why we needed such a table—we were just a family of four.

I mean, three.

And Gil and I never sat there. This room made me nervous. It seemed like something straight out of Macbeth, and we all know how well that ended.

On this happy occasion, our father decided to open the tall windows on one side, bathing the room in sunlight. The white cloth glowed as if made out of neon. I picked the chair facing the window, with Gil sitting opposite me. Dad sat between us at the head of the table.

The spread was fantastic, and it was the one thing I was actually looking forward to. Say what you will about rich people, they know their food. As soon as I sat down I drank an entire jug of water before wolfing down the pancakes with something close to a fervency. Anything within arm’s reach I clawed at and stuffed into my mouth. Fruit, pastries, cupcakes, you name it. Screw acid reflux—after the night I had, the deer population in Trinity Forest was lucky I didn’t gun for it.

“So, yeah,” I said between mouthfuls. “I followed the guy as he ran out of your office. Didn’t get a good look though. That corridor needs better light. When I got too close, I got knocked out. Must have been some kinda spell or maybe the bastard had a friend around. When I came to, Mephisto told us to run for it and stay there until he came to pick us up. Said it was safer since someone got in without an invitation.”

Gil nodded a lot and quietly drank her juice. Dad pushed his coffee cup against his lips and took a tentative sip.

“Well, an investigation is underway,” he said. His eyes twinkled. “I’m glad both of you are safe.”

“Did they take anything?” I asked, casually spearing the pancakes with a fork.

“Just a very precious and sentimental artifact,” Dad replied. “I will get it back, don’t you worry.”

There it was. A small sliver of hatred in his eyes, peeking out from behind the mask. Anyone else would have chalked it up to being pissed off at the robbers. But I was looking for something, anything, to silence that hopeful voice in my head that kept telling me that it was all a dream or a misunderstanding. That glimpse into the darkness inside my father renewed my conviction. I nodded and dug my head behind my pancake. Anything not to look in his direction.

“But do not worry about such little things,” my father continued. “In fact, how about tonight we have a light snack instead of a dinner and spend the night watching the stars? It’s a moonless night tonight, but with some luck we can still get a starry sky. Did you know that this area is one of the last few areas in North America where you can actually see a full starry sky and not just a few constellations? We should spend some time together, make up for all the times I was too busy.”

Gil looked at me with a confused look. I suppose Dad’s charms worked better on her—she hadn’t seen what I had after all. I stared back at her with a hard look and turned to our father.

“That sounds nice, Dad,” I said. “We have a lesson this afternoon. How about after we finish?”

“Yes, of course. I look forward to it.”

Breakfast didn’t last much longer after that. We remained at the table for ten minutes, eating at a slower pace now that we were no longer on the verge of starvation, and after a while we excused ourselves.

***

“That was… different,” Gil said, the moment we were alone in our study.

“He’s a bastard, Gil. It was a mask, a rehearsed speech,” I retorted. “No second thoughts,” I added.

“I wasn’t having any,” she replied coldly.

“Good, because we have a lot of work to do,” came a cold voice behind us. Mephisto loomed into view and sat down.

“I managed to get a sample of the chemical Crowley is providing your father, as well as more details on the Siphoning Ritual,” he continued. “It seems that your father requires both of you as well as your mother for the Ritual.”

“Yeah, we already know that,” I replied.

“What you don’t know, Master Erik, is the reason why. The spell requires a blood bond, and there is no bond more powerful than that between mother and child. Magic such as this requires nothing but the strongest elements. His blood alone, it seems, is not sufficient.”

“Yeah, I remember reading something about blood bonds in Erik’s copy,” Gil commented.

“And you never mentioned it?” I directed at Gil.

“What did it matter, Erik?” she coolly replied. “Either way, we die and our dead mother gets desecrated.”

“Don’t you start turning morbid, Gil,” I said. “Let’s not mess with our system. You do the thinking, I do the killing. So, you tell me how to kill it and step back. You do not get to hit anyone, especially our father.”

“And why not?” She stood up and kicked the chair. Mephisto’s eyebrows rose an inch.

Gil never loses her cool. That was my thing. She never wants to hurt anything that doesn’t deserve it.

“She’s my mother, too, dammit. And he’s my father. So, why shouldn’t I get to dirty my hands? Why do I always have to watch?” she screamed.

“Because I can’t have you break down on me!” Before I knew it I was standing too, screaming back at my sibling. “Because you will freeze up. Because you cannot kill him. You don’t hate him enough. You will freeze and he will kill you, and then I’ll have to bury three family members instead of two!”

“And what makes you so damn special that you can just shut off the fact that he’s your Dad?”

“I saw him kill us,” I said. “I saw him stab you and then stab me. All the while Crowley was eating our mother’s corpse. So, whatever love I had for him disappeared the moment I saw that journal with his plans scribbled all over and our dead mother stashed in his office.”

Gil buried her head in her hands and sat back down. I could hear her taking deep breaths.

“Speaking of Crowley,” Mephisto said. The demon had remained motionless during that spectacle, with only a faint smile on his lips. “I have news regarding him. The drug he is providing your father with is a unique blend of some of the rarest materials and minerals in the world. Indeed, this is quite innovative.” He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small vial of clear, violet liquid. “This may just change the magical world as we know it.”

“How so?” I asked.

“This concoction forcibly channels magic through the wizard’s core. Sort of a pump of magical currents found naturally in the body. It is designed for short-term use, granting temporary boosts. Too much use of it may result in permanent loss of magic. One can literally burn out one’s pathways, so to speak.”

“I guess that’s not a problem for Dad since he’s losing magic either way,” I said, looking at the repulsive violet liquid slowly rippling inside the vial.

“Yes, I suppose that would be the mentality your father is going with,” Mephisto said. “But I’m afraid there is more to it than that. The formula can be improved. Crowley has managed to infuse your mother’s DNA with the chemical, making it a hundred times more powerful. This new formula is tailor-made for your father, who is a descendent of the Ashendale bloodline, the same as your mother.”

“Yet another reason why inbreeding is not a good idea,” I muttered.

“Yes, well, perhaps this next part will stimulate your jesting mind,” Mephisto said. “Tonight, since the Ritual artifact is missing, your father will inject copious amounts of this newer formula, and it will temporarily allow his body to be powerful enough to conduct the spell without the channel. In essence, this formula will allow your father to become the channel for the Ritual.”

“Oh,” I said. “Damn.”

“Indeed,” Mephisto replied. “As such, I would suggest that you strike before this happens. Once he injects that formula, I do not know how strong he might get.”

“Okay, got it. Hit before magical liquid goes in. Anything else?”

“Yes,” he said. “Your sword. Use it. Neither one of you will be powerful enough to take on your father. Your channel will serve you well. I suggest you retrieve it and spend the next few hours hidden in the forest as you familiarize yourself with its mechanics. Remember, listen to the weapon and the essence inside it. It will guide you.”

He stood up. “And let us not forget Alastair Crowley. I do not know anything about his power, save his proficiency with chemicals. I know he’s human, however twisted.”

“Then, Gil can take him,” I said. She looked up. “This is the guy who killed Mom, Gil. I know it. Mephisto is saying we gotta play the observing game with him, and you can keep him at bay with some long-range spells.” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want you anywhere near Dad when this goes down. Leave this to me. You keep Crowley busy.”

She nodded.

“That’s settled then,” I said.

“Master Gil,” Mephisto said. “While Erik is training, I would like to show you a few things which may prove useful against Crowley.”

“Thank you,” she replied quietly.

“Thanks,” I echoed. I meant it. Despite what I thought about Mephisto, he really came through when the crap hit the fan.

“As I said earlier in the forest,” he replied, “I do not work for free. Everything has its price.”

Scratch that. This guy was still an asshole.

“What’s yours?” I asked.

“My brother,” he said. “I want him freed.”

“Why? From what I could gather, you guys don’t like each other.”

“Yes. But I still want him freed,” the demon insisted. “Master Erik, why do you think I am under contract to this family? Did it ever occur to you that I may have a hidden agenda?”

“Many times.”

“Well, I do. And I need my brother Amaymon to be his usual destructive self instead of a feline statue. What you do with him once he is no longer sealed is up to you. You may opt to kill him, which would suit me just fine. Or you may choose to contract him, in which case he kills you. Either way, I win.”

I glared silently at the demon. So, he wanted his brother dead for some reason. Or I could die and that would give him an advantage of sorts. The question was, what advantage could he possibly gain from my death? Other than pure sadistic pleasure, I mean. What game was he playing? He had never asked anything of us.

Then again, we never asked anything of him. He had done his job and then left, like a good servant. He helped us of his own free will. Some part of me dropped my guard around him after he helped me get into my Dad’s office. How dumb of me. This was the same demon who locked me and my sister inside a typhoon with a raging phoenix in the middle, just to test our limits.

And now, we were indebted to him.

“Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. The words tasted bitter in my mouth. “We win, the cat goes free.”

“Excellent. I am afraid that once the battle starts, I will disappear, for both your safety and mine. This civil war does not concern me, nor will I allow myself to be used as leverage.”

“What if Dad summons you?” Gil asked.

“I have found enough loopholes in my contract with your father to do pretty much anything other than slit his throat myself,” Mephisto replied. “I should be able to make myself scarce.”

***

I spent the afternoon trekking through the forest again. I took the longer route, circling a couple of times and taking erratic directions around where I actually wanted to end up. I trekked for hours, but it was necessary just in case my father decided to have someone discreetly tag me. I didn’t see anyone but you can’t be too careful.

I recognized the stones we sat on earlier that morning. The key to navigation in any environment is landmarks. You pick out a few spots, give them some cute name, and burn them into your memory. After spending my adolescence running around these woods, there were very few corners I didn’t know about. I made it back to where I had hidden that short sword and dug it out. There it was, still wrapped in that blanket, its leather-wrapped handle sticking out an inch or two.

I discarded the blanket and twirled the sword around once. The hike had centered my mind. It was easy to find your zen among the trees. No unnecessary sounds, just the lyrical rustling of leaves and animal noises harmonizing together like a choir. To a stranger, it was noise, but to me, who had always found sanctuary here, it was the most beautiful sound you could think of. It was the sound of home.

And that was exactly the feeling I channeled into that weird short sword. I felt my magic flow through it, encompassing the weapon as if it were a part of my hand. As if I was born with my fingers wrapped around that weapon. I raised my right hand, pointing the blade at the trees above me. It was faint at first, but as a blue light encompassed the blade and grew more intense, the peace within me grew.

This was unlike any channel I had ever used before. Crystals, potions, matchsticks and pieces of wood were just objects, junk that any two-bit practitioner could pick up at a local store. This was different. This sword was alive; the Jinn’s essence inside it was resonating with my soul, acting as a part of me.

I gazed at the blade, now bathing the surrounding foliage with azure light, and my mind filled with possibilities. This was a gateway back to my magic.

I smiled, knowing exactly what to do.

“Progress, I see.” The black dog sat down just close enough to be heard. I put my sword down and wiped the sweat off my brow. Around me, destruction was evident. Felled trees, crushed rock and cratered ground—it looked like a small meteorite had crashed.

“It’s time,” Mephisto said. The dog took off with unnatural speed, zigzagging in between trees like a furry black bullet. I ran after it, almost keeping up with it. I was surprised I had that much energy left. After training for hours with Djinn, I imagined I’d be exhausted. And yet I felt refreshed, like I could go a couple of rounds with that phoenix and come out on top.

I met Gil at the entrance of the house.

“It’s time,” she said grimly.

“Stick to the plan,” I said as I placed my hand on her shoulder.

“Good luck, children.” Mephisto, in his creepy butler form, bowed with one hand bent in front of him and the other behind his back. “I enjoyed instructing you. Try not to die too badly.” The wind picked up and his form dissolved into nothing. I had a feeling this was the last time we could count on him. We were on our own from now on.

I nodded at Gil and marched all the way down to the Zoo. The Ritual would take place there. Instead of waiting to be summoned like dogs, we opted for an ambush and strike them when they least expected it.

“Hey, you’re not authorized to be here,” said one of two guards at the entrance to the basement.

Without missing a beat, I flipped Djinn’s blade and drove the pommel of the sword into his sternum. The soldier gasped and his eyes snapped wide open as he fought for breath. As he bent over, I drove my knee into his face and he slumped to the ground.

The other soldier aimed his gun at me. Keeping the momentum of my strike, I spun and snapped my fist backwards. Djinn’s blade penetrated the gun, and as I kept spinning I tore the weapon from his grip and sent it flying across the room. My left fist connected with his throat, and he fell face forwards without a sound.

Gil remained rooted on the spot, still shocked at having a gun pointed at her face. She let out a low whistle at my impromptu ninja skills.

“I never liked the idea of soldiers inside the damn house,” I muttered. I ripped off one of their keycards and we got into the elevator.

I heard my Dad arguing with Crowley once our elevator doors opened. We got off and walked across the corridor until we reached a wooden door and stopped behind it, listening.

“They should be here shortly,” I heard Dad say. “I can’t find that useless demon anywhere. Is everything ready?”

“No,” Crowley replied. “I am telling you something is amiss. One of my samples is missing, and I refuse to provide you with anymore unless you resolve your mess.” I heard a fist bang against a table. “It’s your children, I know it. They must suspect something.”

“They don’t know anything,” Dad replied. “A hothead like Erik would have come after me a long time ago if he had seen the coffin.”

“Well, I refuse to give you any more of the formula unless you clean up your mess. Find the Athame and kill your children on your own. I want a better reward for such an effort.”

“And what the hell do you want more of? You get her corpse and any residual magic inside it. Isn’t that what you do?”

Crowley let out sharp yell. “The boy! I want a taste of the boy. His magic is simply astounding.”

“No!” Dad’s voice made the door we were behind shudder. “Both of them are mine! My power! You get our resources and our protection, but their power is mine!”

“Without my formula, you are nothing,” Crowley spat back. There was a pause before he spoke again. “Fine. But I want their corpses. Intact and fresh off the Ritual. I want to decay them myself. And I want the Athame once you retrieve it. There is power there. This is my final offer.”

“Deal. Don’t screw me over, Alastair,” I heard Dad reply. “If I go down, we both fall together.”

I turned my head towards Gil, who swallowed hard and closed her eyes tightly. The poor girl was pushing back tears.

“Heard enough?” I whispered.

She nodded, and her eyes darkened with conviction.

“Make Crowley pay,” I said. “Dad’s mine.”

We stood up, and I took a step backwards. I could feel my power building up and itching to explode. I kicked out and the door flew off its hinges with a loud bang. Inside, I saw Dad next to Crowley, who was holding a leather-covered medicine box.

The blade shone azure and from its tip shot a blast of blue energy, headed straight at the two men. The table behind them exploded, and the two were sent flying apart from each other. The medicine box careened in the air and disappeared behind upturned tables and storage lockers.

“Hi, Dad,” I said with a slight growl in my voice. I lifted Djinn, its blade emitting menacing light and power. “Looking for this?”

Chapter 26

“The Athame,” Crowley croaked.

At the sound of his voice, I heard Gil let out a snarl and a lance of orange flame shot at him. Crowley yelped like a puppy and scrambled on all fours away from the fire. His fedora was smoking on his head.

Gil took a deep breath and pursed her lips. She let out a whistle. The sound increased in intensity until our ears rang and the high-pitch of the whistle became a ringing siren. Dad and Crowley rolled in agony on the floor, and I found myself pressing my palms against my ears and hunching forwards. Something trickled between my fingers. In between the spasms and rolls of my father I noticed blood oozing from his ears and between his fingers. Crowley had ripped off one glove, exposing a gnarled blue-gray hand with two-inch yellow nails on each bony finger. He clawed at his ears, squeezing the air around them. Slowly, he managed to crawl on all fours, away from his position and towards the fire escape that would lead him up to the ground floor of the mansion.

Gil’s whistle spell stopped abruptly. She sucked in a deep breath and hyperventilated for a few seconds, giving Crowley the time he needed to make for the fire escape. My head rang from the spell, but already I could feel warmth around my ears and head. As I healed, I found the strength to stand upright.

“A little warning next time,” I directed towards Gil. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath.

“Wasn’t sure if that would work or not,” she said. She took a step after Crowley. “He’s mine.”

“Happy hunting,” I said as I faced my father, who still rolled on the ground in agony.

“You, too.” And she walked away.

She never looked at our father—not when we burst in, not when I threw that energy wave, or when she nearly burst their eardrums. She never made eye contact, not even when she was leaving him to die by my hands.

“Erik,” I heard Dad say. He slowly got up to one knee. “Erik, my son. Why?” His tone was apologetic and surprised. As if he didn’t plan to kill us. As if he were the perfect father and we were the rebels.

And I just couldn’t take it.

“Fuck you!” I yelled as I swung the short sword at him. A crescent-shaped wave of blue energy shot at him along the direction of the swing. My Dad, along with the table behind him and all of its contents, were sent flying.

I kept swinging Djinn wildly around me, streaking waves of azure energy all over the place. This building was sick, toxic. This is what led to the curse in the first place. My family wanting to explore, to go further. They conquered and killed, captured and dissected. All for what? Just so we could have power?

Why does power matter so much? Why couldn’t we just enjoy what we had?

Why did my mother have to suffer?

I stopped throwing energy waves around when I felt empty again. It was like I had unleashed all the pent-up feelings inside me. Now, I could think clearly. Now, I could fight. Now, I could kill this bastard, burn the place down, and start fresh. Maybe give my sister and myself a semblance of a normal life. This was it, right here. The beginning of the end.

My father sat up and ran his hands down himself, checking for permanent damage. The bastard was lucky—just a scar and some bruising. I hadn’t focused my power properly. I just wanted to destroy things.

But now, I could think straight. This time, he wouldn’t survive it.

He reached for Crowley’s case and opened it. All the vials were shattered and the purplish liquid oozed uselessly from the case. He stood up and threw it away.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” he snarled at me. “Do you know how much you’ve set me back?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” I replied.

He slapped the coffin beside him. “It was for her,” he screamed. “It was always for her. I could have brought her back to life. I could have brought all of you back to life. Once I had that power.”

“Get away from her,” I said.

He ignored me. “I could have given you anything. I could have done anything. It’s the power of the gods, Erik, and we have it.”

I didn’t really hear him. I was too angry as I watched him slap the lacquered black coffin with every exclamation. I swung the sword around and threw another wave of energy. Dad screamed something indistinguishable and held his hands out. Energy blasted around him, but never touched him.

“I’ve been a Warlock for far longer than you have been, boy,” he said.

“You’re a washed up has-been,” I shot back. “When was the last time you actually went up against a monster?”

His expression darkened. “I may have my handicaps, but I am more than capable of taking you down, whelp.” He reached inside his robe and pulled out a small vial with the tiniest of syringes attached to it. He stabbed it in his thigh and injected himself with violet liquid.

“Handicap, my ass,” I said. “You’re nothing but a junkie.”

He responded by snapping out his palm, sending a torrent of fire my way. I swung Djinn upwards and shot out my own spell. Red flame met azure energy halfway through its journey and exploded. Debris clouded the battlefield. I heard crackling and saw something white and crystalline shoot at me, too fast to dodge. Pain flared from my shoulder and I looked down.

A long spike of ice went through my shoulder, its sharp tip emerging from the other side. The spike’s shaft went on until I saw it was attached to my father’s fingers. I swung my blade on the spike, breaking it. The ice melted into a puddle of water and evaporated with a hiss. I struck the shard of ice still impaling my shoulder with the pommel of my sword and pulled the tip out. The ice evaporated and my healing magic took over.

I yelled and shot two streaks of energy at him. He ducked under the first, but the second one, at a slightly lower angle, caused him to buckle as he blocked it. He flicked his palm and slapped it on the ground and I felt something cold wrap around my ankles. Shadows in the form of black tendrils shackled my legs to the ground. My Dad grabbed the metal leg off a table and wrenched it apart. He smeared some blood on it and the pipe transmuted, its tip warping on itself, becoming a spike.

Before he took the first step toward me, I stabbed the ground with Djinn and channeled my magic. The tiled floor cracked and shattered, disrupting his shadow spell. I pushed even more energy into the ground. The blast lifted me into the air, and I twisted and somersaulted. Djinn’s blade had elongated to the size of a full broadsword and its blade shone azure. At the end of my summersault, I landed right above my Dad and swung the sword at him.

He brought his hands together. A desk moved in front of me, blocking my strike. I yelled louder and swung through the furniture. My strike was enough to bisect the desk, sending the pieces away, but not enough to cut through the metal pipe. He blocked my strike and we stood there in a blade lock for a few seconds, pushing against each other. Djinn’s elongated blade shattered like glass as my concentration wavered, and the short sword shrunk back to its original size. Dad smiled, thinking he had the advantage.

My hand-to-hand combat training took over the moment I came face-to-face with him. I angled my blade so that his spike moved away from my face. My knee shot into his gut, doubling him over. Before he could bend completely my fist caught his throat, sending him a few steps backwards. He gasped for breath and found it after the fourth try. I closed our distance, but he kept me back with the pipe. Smearing more blood on it, the pipe elongated into a spear and he began stabbing wildly with it. He hoped the longer weapon would keep me at bay and safeguard him from my attacks. But it was years since he had done any serious training, and I was fresh off the wagon.

I blocked a strike and vaulted over the pole. My leg shot forwards, catching him in the chest. I pulled the spear and he stumbled towards me as I spun my sword and slashed. He yelled in pain as a deep cut across his chest and shoulder appeared. I slid Djinn down the length of the spear and channeled a small blast of power. The weapon shot from his hands and clattered ten feet away.

I moved in for the kill.

My father snapped the heel of his palm at me and a blast of air punched into my stomach. The shot was enough to lift me off my feet and throw me across the room.

As I gasped for breath and tried to get back on my feet, I saw him pull out another vial and inject himself. He convulsed on the ground and blood spluttered from his wounds before quickly sealing. He stood up shakily.

“Never had to use two before,” he rasped. “I suppose this is your true power, then. I want it.”

I tried to get on my feet, but he snapped his hands and a blast of air smacked against my back, driving me into the ground.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Are you really that insane?”

His eyes widened. “Because I found it, Erik,” he said. “The power source. It’s here, Erik, right beneath our feet, and we are feeding off it constantly.”

“What are you talking about, you crazy old man?”

Dad let out a growl and pushed both palms downwards. I felt as if a grand piano had been placed on my back and the ground was sucking me into it.

“I found something right beneath our feet, Erik. I don’t know what they met during their last expedition, but our ancestors didn’t come home empty-handed.” His voice was quick and erratic. “And it’s our power, Erik. We have it. It’s the power passed through the generations.”

He walked around. “At first, I thought I found a way to stop my wife and me from having our powers drained. But when I realized you were twins, I knew there was no spell we could cast that would cover both of you. So, I came up with a plan. I tested the power, and it led me straight to the source. And then I realized I needed that power. I could have brought her back to life. I could have brought all of you back to life with that power.”

He bent down and grabbed my hair, twisting my head to look at him. “I will become a god, Erik, and I will shape the world as I see fit. I can have my wife back. I can have a thousand of her. You and you sister will become the perfect children, and we will live an eternal life in the world I built for you.”

He cupped my face. “Join me, son. Give me back my power. Give me the power of a god, so that I can give your mother life again. I will make all the monsters go away. Just. Give. Me. Power.”

His face had a wild, psychotic expression as he squeezed his hands around my face. I saw veins breaking in his eyes and sweat rolling from his brow. My father was sick, in all senses of the word.

“Gods don’t exist,” I replied. “You’re just a junkie who’s willing to kill your family for a fantasy. You killed your wife for nothing. You killed my mom for shit, and I will kill you.” I spat in his face.

He let go of me and walked a few steps away. He extended his palms and the weight on my body doubled.

“My sources tell me that you have impressive healing abilities. No doubt linked to the power source. But I wonder, will you be able to heal when the gravity around you is so strong that it crushes you?”

I felt myself being squashed into the tile floor. Breathing had become impossible, and everything ached. I heard something snap and felt a shot of pain.

I heard my father chuckle. “Let’s hope Crowley likes his payment a little flat.”

Great. I was going to die, and the last thing I heard was a junkie’s lame pun.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone. I looked up.

A desk slammed into my father, carrying him into a wall. Gil stood at the entrance of the fire escape and waved her hands. A blast of air shot right into my father’s face, smashing his skull against the wall.

“Get away from my brother,” she growled. “Daddy.”

Chapter 27

The two spells acted against each other. Dad’s gravity spell was crushing me while my own healing magic kept repairing the damage. If Gil hadn't shown up, I would have been caught in an infinite loop; but once the gravity spell was turned off my body was back in shape and I instantly regained full control. I scrambled to my feet.

“I thought you were supposed to go after Crowley,” I told Gil.

“The little rat escaped,” she muttered. Her face was flushed with anger. Crowley must have used an ace up his sleeve to give my sister the slip. But no matter—all that mattered was she was safe.

“I told you, I don't want you to be around this.”

Her eyes locked onto our father, who was slowly getting up. “I can handle it,” she replied coldly. “Besides, you and Dad are equal in terms of power right now. You've got the strength and he's got the versatility. It's a stalemate.”

“And you're here to turn the tables in my favor.”

“Our favor. We're in this together,” she said as she readied herself.

Dad's figure rose. Steam emerged from him and I saw veins popping out. One lens of his spectacles was shattered and the rims curled unnaturally around his face. His eyes were wide, bloodshot and feral.

“Oh, isn't that nice.” His voice was broken and raspy. “Brother and sister united against their big, bad daddy.”

He inhaled deeply. “You can't hurt me!” he yelled maniacally. “I am better than you, you insolent children. That is my power and you don't deserve it. It’s mine!”

A lance of power shot at Gil. She remained immobile, a lopsided smile on her face.

My sword intercepted the shot. I poured enough power inside the blade to counter the energy of the lance, dissipating it.

“Who do you think you're dealing with, Father?” Gil's voice sounded deeper than usual. It sent shivers down my spine and I sensed enormous power in just those few words. It was the same power generals conveyed when hyping up their soldiers, the power to terrify their enemies and make their allies feel invincible.

“Individually, we are just Warlocks,” she continued, “and powerful ones at that. But together, we are a legacy. The future of our bloodline. I will not let you destroy our family. Not while I am alive.”

She looked at me with a fierce expression that was both frightening and impressive.

“Erik, Magnet, now.”

I nodded and stepped in front of her.

Magnet: the most powerful collaboration spell we knew. It needed time, precision, power and impeccable teamwork.

Gil needed time to gather her energy and channel some of the most advanced magic in existence. As usual, it was my job to keep the nasty at bay until the time was right.

“I don't know what you two are planning but the time for games is over,” Dad said. A lance of intense red fire leapt toward Gil.

It was one of the basics when fighting magic users: target the wizard standing still and gathering magic. They were sitting ducks.

But Dad made the gravest of mistakes. You never, ever, underestimate your opponent, no matter how small they were.

Djinn's blade intercepted the fire and I pushed against it, parting the flame. I pushed even harder, until I felt myself running forwards. Straight towards my father.

“I'm your opponent,” I said as I came upon him. The tactic took him by surprise and he barely dodged my swing. The short sword's blade was coated in flame, azure fire that emanated power and intent.

He grabbed two pieces of metal, remnants of what was once a shelf holding lab tools. Instantly, he transmuted them and swung two scimitars at me. Gil was right. He had power and precision. It would have taken me half an hour to transmute scrap metal into a pair of swords. But I had my body on my side and my training. Swords, spears, magic—none of it mattered. I was trained against that sort of thing.

No matter how many times he tried to take my head off, I parried and blocked, countering each strike with a slash. His body healed the wounds with a violent hiss, no doubt a handy side effect of the drugs he had pumped into his body. He slammed both pommels of his swords together and channeled his magic once more. The metal twisted and fused on a molecular level. A spear formed and he resumed his earlier tactic of keeping me at bay with its length.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a spot on the ground beginning to warp, then spin like a little typhoon. Slowly, it grew and expanded to the size of a football. I gave Gil a quick glance. She nodded.

The spell was ready.

I ducked beneath Dad’s swipe, and with my deft footwork managed to make him turn his back to the warped space. Energy beams shot out of Djinn, driving him further backwards. He pushed forwards in a natural reaction. When a person is pushed, they tend to push back. He must have thought I was trying to get behind him and strike more vulnerable areas. He wasn’t completely off. He took a step backwards as I viciously counterattacked and drove the tip forwards. I raised my weapon as if to block and then let it fall, exposing myself. The tip of the spear penetrated my stomach and tore its way through.

It wouldn’t have worked for anyone but me. The normal instinct in any fight is to avoid harm, even the smallest of injuries. But my experiences with pain had rendered me immune to most natural reactions. I was not afraid of pain anymore—I didn’t have a reason to be. I could heal from almost anything.

I once read somewhere that ninety percent of pain was anticipation—it was all in our heads. It was the fear of pain that make you either freeze up or react faster than before.

I had completely accepted pain and the fear of it. I could heal instantly, so who cares how bad the damage was?

Djinn embedded itself on the ground, and I wrapped my hands around the spear. Pain ripped through me but I chose to ignore it.

My father was too stunned by my actions to resist. His foot stepped on the warped area and his body began twisting.

The nature of the spell was to feed on the victim’s magic and expand itself, locking the target into that particular space. It was some heavy-duty spatial magic, the kind that usually went terribly wrong.

Black-hole-in-the-middle-of-the-room wrong.

It takes decades for most wizards to even attempt the simplest spatial magic, without fainting after the first two seconds. Gil had managed to combine spatial magic with Abjuration—if that wasn’t the mark of a genius, I don’t know what was.

The spell engulfed me, too, holding me in place, which was just fine by me. I could still move my arms. The spell sucked off magic at a steady rate, and while it drained my father, I had a lot more juice in reserve. I wrenched the pike out of my stomach and dropped it away.

Time for phase two.

We dubbed the spell ‘magnet’ because of its nature. It latched onto victims and leeched off their energy, using that same energy to power itself. But the most important factor was what happened next. Any external spell coming into contact with it was enhanced tenfold due to spatial condensation and the redirection of the victim’s energy.

In essence, the spell sucked the victim’s power, used that power to lock them in place and increased the final blow dealt to them.

I let out a long yell, pulled back my fist, and drove it into my father’s mangled figure. I channeled power into my fists, each of them juiced up with enough magic to shatter rock.

I kept hitting him.

A flurry of fists flew between us, and with every strike I heard something break inside him. Pain stabbed along my hands and arms that originated from the same power that healed me. The kind that I couldn’t block out, no matter how much I tried. But I kept punching. I was determined to keep hitting him, with enough power to rip out a Baku’s head, with enough power to kill a phoenix.

With enough power to destroy this evil once and for all.

Each strike was enhanced ten times, and just one would have been enough to fell a Behemoth. But when it came to the villains who killed my mother, there was no such thing as overkill.

Only vengeance.

I stopped only when my hands fell limp to my side. Dad looked like a scarecrow that had been through a hurricane. Gil was on her knees, and the spatial spell had dissipated. I felt my healing repair the damage to my arms, and as soon as I had motion in my right hand, I pulled back my fist and channeled all the pent up magic I had left. All the anger, hate, betrayal and sadness flowed from the dark corners in my head into that fist.

I punched him, determined to destroy him once and for all. Determined to end this nightmare forever. This would be the last strike, the final blow dealt to our own personal monster.

After this, there was just hope of a better life. A life where none of our family members tried to kill us. A life where my sister and I could live in peace, away from nightmares.

The punch threw him across the room. He made a glottal popping sound, the kind that planes do when they break the sound barrier. My entire body shook, and I heard a popping sound come from my shoulder. No matter; my injuries would soon heal.

All that mattered was that it was finally over.

There was no evil laughter or a declaration of power. All we heard after I had blasted Dad was breathing. A small intake of air and a raspy exhalation, which marked the smallest signs of life.

I grabbed Djinn and made my way towards my father. Take him down now, before he can recover, I thought.

My father slowly—impossibly—stood up and crushed an empty vial beneath his boot. Something was seriously wrong with him. His shoulders were dislocated, giving him elongated, droopy arms. He walked with a limp. One of his knees was no longer there. Instead, he simply flicked his leg in front of him and pushed his weight on it until he stepped with the other foot. A large section of his torso was gone, exposing to the air a set of small abdominal muscles that squirted blood every time they contracted. His jaw hung at an angle, and his neck twisted to one side, giving him a serpentine look.

In his hand, the one that was not a mangled raw mess of nerves, he clutched a syringe. This one appeared stouter than the others and had two vials attached to it. One had the opaque violet liquid, and the other was filled with a dark blue liquid, like ink. The syringe had two needles. He stabbed it into his thigh and pushed.

The effect was immediate. He let out a scream and blood oozed from his body like a burst water balloon. I heard a sound like a million rubber bands being snapped. His wounds began healing.

He still looked weak and mangled, his face and body spasming with pain. He looked in no shape to fight, and I took the opportunity to strike.

But I made the same mistake he did earlier and underestimated him.

His movements were a blur. I felt a blow on my head and wrist. Djinn fell from my grasp and Dad spun low. His leg snapped into my chest and I went flying, slamming against the opposite wall, a full two meters off the ground.

Not losing his momentum, my father wrenched out two pieces of wood from the remnants of a chair and channeled magic into them, morphing them into short, thick stakes. He threw the wooden stakes at me, telekinetically controlling their trajectory. Both impaled my forearms, pinning me to the wall.

I saw him flick his palm. Djinn levitated and shot forwards…

Straight into Gil.

Chapter 28

“NO!”

My throat hurt, but it didn’t matter.

Gil—she was dead.

She was dead, just like in my vision.

She was dead, and it was all my fault.

Dad burst into a fit of coughs that morphed into an eerie giggle. I screamed again, but the wooden stakes pinned me helplessly to the wall. I was too tired to channel magic, and my weapon was taken.

“I meant to use the prototype for the Ritual,” Dad said as he pulled the syringe out of his leg. “But given present circumstances, I’d rather take the option at hand.” He crushed the vial and dropped it. “You will both die now, and that is that.”

“I’ll kill you!” I screamed. My feet stomped against the wall, but I couldn’t budge. “You hear me? I’m gonna kill you, you monster!”

My father simply laughed and tutted, as if he were scolding a child. I heard Gil moan softly. She coughed and sprayed blood from her mouth. I saw her figure emanate soft, white light and she managed to pull Djinn out of her. The blade clattered once on the ground.

“Quite the warrior, over there,” Dad said casually. He folded his arms and looked at her. “I want to watch whatever she’s going to try. I’m interested in her power, too.”

Sadistic bastard. He was going to watch his own daughter die slowly from blood loss. All for the sake of power, for some stupid ritual.

Gil looked at me and slowly—very slowly—she winked.

I saw her fingers trace a symbol on her forearm with blood, and a gust of wind erupted in the room, obscuring our vision. Mephisto appeared in front of Gil on one knee. His arms were outstretched as the wind picked up and surrounded them like a barrier.

Dad’s eyes widened. “You,” he spat. “How dare you betray me? You are my familiar.”

“No longer,” the demon replied coolly. “You are no longer my master. You are not the man with whom I contracted our agreement. On breech of the contract, I hereby sever the bond between us.”

“You cannot do that.”

“Your power waned and you are no longer the man you were, neither in body nor in spirit. You are a corruption that is spreading to me,” Mephisto continued, as if my father had never spoken. “I am now temporarily bound to a new master.” He picked up Gil and looked at me.

“Disgraceful,” he said, cocking his head.

“Save her!” I yelled.

“She does not need saving, you blind child,” he replied. “Stop being such a pushover, Master Erik, and accept your legacy. You are weak. Weren’t you the one who asked for more power?”

That phrase echoed in my head like a gong. I remembered the mangrove roots, encasing me like a cocoon.

More power, I had pleaded to whatever that was. That was all I wanted. More power to be able to save Gil and avenge Mom. And I had failed in both.

“Take it,” Mephisto said. Our eyes met. “Take the power. Become strong. Break through all the barriers. Embrace your roots.”

“Mephistopheles!” Dad charged toward the demon and clawed at the barrier. It held fast, and the demon remained unfazed.

“What do you know?” my father screamed. “Tell me! What do you know? Answer me, dog. I am your master.”

Mephisto looked at him with a blank expression, and a second later, he vanished together with Gil.

“No!” Dad screamed. He fumed for a minute before turning to me.

“No matter. I will find the dead girl later,” he said with a feral gleam in his eye. “For now, I’ll just have to make-do with you.”

He approached me, but my eyes couldn’t focus. My senses were shutting down and darkness soon crept over me.

More power.

Roots.

Those words echoed in my head, bouncing from one corner to another. I felt something warm curl around my body. Branches, mangrove roots. I realized I had delved into my inner world and was, once again, inside that mangrove cocoon. They squeezed tighter and tighter, until they merged with my body.

I let go completely. I had nothing else left to lose. Absolutely nothing.

Gil was dead. Mom was dead.

And soon, I would join them.

If this cocoon could make things any better, it was more than welcome. At least I wouldn’t have to look at Dad’s ugly mug.

So, this is it, huh? I thought to myself. This is how it ends. Back in the roots. Kinda poetic, I guess.

I chuckled. It would be the last time I would chuckle. At least I would go down with a smile. No expression of fear or horror.

Just a smile.

I’m sure my mother would appreciate that, I thought as I became one with the darkness.

***

The father stood there watching as his son stopped breathing.

Dead, he thought. Good, one less to hunt down.

He turned and lightly kicked the Athame at his feet. It may have been bound to his son, but the father was still an Ashendale, a proper Warlock. The weapon had responded to his magic as well. Maybe instead of giving it to Crowley, he would simply kill the little bug. He had never planned to share anything with him in the first place

He made for the door when he heard soft growling come from the direction of his deceased son.

Erik’s body was a mass of obsidian power which was arcing around him like a current. The father heard bone snapping and popping. Bone jutted from the boy’s extremities, elongating his fingers into claws. His knuckles were covered in thick, white bone, as were his elbows and knees. His eyes glowed red, and orange and red veins snaked their way around his body before a cloak of shadows, darker than black, enveloped him. With every exhalation, steam emerged.

The father, the Warlock, heard a rumble and realized that it was the boy’s breathing. The stakes pinning him to the wall eroded into fine dust and the Warlock’s eyes opened in wonder.

“Life magic,” he found himself saying aloud. “You possess Life magic.” A smile spread across his lips. “So, that’s the big mystery? A magic so potent it could break the barrier between life and death. Is this the power of a god?” His heart skipped a beat. He would soon have that power. Soon, he would be able to kill and resurrect at his own volition. Soon, he would be a god.

No, the God.

The boy slumped down and gazed at his enemy. Erik Ashendale was no longer conscious, not in the way people usually define it. He was still present in mind but his thoughts were mere impulses of instinct.

The figure in front of him was the enemy.

Destroy, whispered the voices in the boy’s mind.

Destroy him.

Destroy everything.

The shadows moved like scythes. They sliced at the Warlock, who dodged and fired his own spell. The lance of pure energy struck Erik in the chest. It would have killed a normal man. But Erik was never normal, and was far from it now. He simply brushed the energy aside, as if swatting a fly, and disappeared.

He reappeared beside the Warlock and smacked a fist into him. The man bent over in pain. Erik maintained his assault. His claws sliced open recently healed wounds. His blows struck new ones on the Warlock’s body.

But it was not enough destruction. Erik’s heart was too full of hatred and pain to be quenched with only a few blows to the man responsible for such horrors.

He spun, and the shadows extended like tendrils. Whatever they touched they corroded, leaving a trace of destruction and rust in their wake. The shadows sent the Warlock flying.

Something caught Erik’s eye.

It was Djinn. Erik did not see the weapon for what it was. Instead, he saw a sliver of azure energy that was a part of him.

Mine. That is mine—that was his one and only thought. And that was all he needed to claim dominion over it.

The weapon flew towards its master and the blade exploded into wild azure fire. It elongated, surpassing the largest broadsword in both length and width. He swung it high, unleashing a massive wave of energy from it. The walls were scored with deep groves and furniture was pulverized on the spot.

Erik heard the cries of creatures as they died. Creatures trapped in cages, locked up tight in walls, using some kind of dimensional magic. He hated them.

There was no reason. There was just hate and rage.

He would kill them all and put them out of their misery. He stabbed the sword into the wall and channeled power. Veins of blue snaked around the wall before exploding. The resounding explosion sent Erik flying backwards, forcing him to stab the blade into the ground to halt his momentum. The wall was in smithereens, and he heard no more cries of agony from prisoners.

There were none left.

Erik felt the ground beneath him rise. He saw the Warlock with his hands on the floor. The small patch of ground where Erik stood rocketed towards the ceiling, and he understood that the Warlock meant to crush him. It wouldn’t work, of course, but this was a matter of power.

Overwhelming power versus a small, insignificant rodent who had made him suffer for years.

The shadows at his feet shot into the raising ground and spread apart. The rock crumbled into dust, and the spell was over.

Erik swung his sword and a crescent wave of energy streaked toward the Warlock. He managed to dodge, but the spell sliced into the ground, tearing a cratered slope in the sediments.

As Erik landed, a shockwave sent everything around him flying. The Warlock flew against a wall that differed from the others. It was a wall of steel and lead, sturdier than the rest. Pushing forwards, Erik unleashed his shadows against his father, all the while driving both of them inside the Arena.

One of Erik’s tendrils struck a switchboard and the doors of the Arena closed. The platform levitated into a sealed containment room where father and son fought with a savage brutality.

The Warlock gathered magic and shot a blast of power at what used to be his son. Erik swung his sword down on the beam, bifurcating it. He inhaled deeply and let out a jet of brilliant, yellow flame. The Warlock channeled the air, parting the flames, and squeezing the current around his son. Erik’s shadows elongated into tendrils and expanded into all directions. They tore up the air currents—the very magic inside them—and a towering wave of darkness descended on the Warlock. He managed to block the worst of it.

Erik swung his sword backwards, while the Warlock was busy guarding himself. Erik had no such qualms—nothing could possibly hurt him. Djinn’s empowered blade penetrated the steel wall without Erik ever noticing.

He forced all his power into the sword.

Djinn’s fiery blade exploded into a titanic broadsword, its width stretching from the top of the Arena to the floor. The wall in which the tip was embedded exploded.

With a roar that shook the entire mansion, Erik swung his weapon upwards, slicing through the Arena’s ceiling in the process, and brought it crashing down on the Warlock.

Energy and power exploded everywhere, cracking walls and sending bolts of lightning zigzagging across the room.

Three sounds filled the Arena: the Warlock’s scream of agony, followed by Erik’s roar of victorious rage.

And then, silence fell.

***

I found myself in a gray room. It looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I was more distracted by the carcass of my father lying a few feet away from me. He looked like he had fallen into a blender. A massive wound cleaved him from shoulder to hip, and the rest of him was either burnt away or smashed into goo. I would have thrown up had I not been too busy looking at myself.

I was covered in blood, not sure whose it was, his or mine. Djinn lay on the ground beside me, steam billowing from it.

Tingling, like static, danced all over my body.

What the hell had happened?

One moment I was crucified to a wall, slipping into unconsciousness or death. Now, I wake up here, in this room, this very familiar room.

The Arena.

Everything clicked in my head at once, as if someone had pressed the play button on a video recoding. I caught various flashes of shadows and fighting with my father. I was so powerful, so invincible, but at the same time, that wasn’t me. It was too… primal. Too wild. Like a beast let off its chain.

Was it still inside me?

I tried delving into my own power, but found nothing except the usual emptiness, that lacking of something that should be there but was now gone.

“Erik.”

Gil and Mephisto appeared at the entrance of the arena, the spot where monsters usually came in from.

“Gil,” I said, relieved to see her alive. She hung onto the demon to walk straight, like a crutch.

“Erik, what did you do?” Her voice shook with fear.

“I- I don’t know,” I said, looking at my blood-drenched hands. “I just don’t know.”

I looked up, hoping she would say something but instead, she swung to one side and fell unconscious into the demon’s arms.

Mephisto gently put her down. “Master Erik, this is quite impressive. I could feel your power from miles away.”

“Just what the hell is going on?”

“All in due time, Master Erik,” he replied placidly. “But for now, you must flee.”

“What?”

“Leave,” he insisted. His yellow eyes glistened.

“Why?”

“Alastair Crowley is after you. He will hunt you down like the animal he is. By staying here, you will be endangering your sister too.”

“Bullshit,” I shot back. “If we are together, we can take him. United we stand and all that. What happened to the teamwork you were always preaching about?”

Mephisto glanced at Gil. “There can only be one Master of this house, Master Erik,” he said calmly and deliberately. “By all rights, it should be the firstborn, but in your case, you are no longer able to use magic. You are no Warlock, Master Erik, and this family needs a Warlock to lead it. You have a predator on your heels, and you have just committed patricide, a most horrific crime within our community.”

“What are you talking about?” I shot back.

“We have laws, Master Erik!” Mephisto’s patience seemed to have run out. “Authorities, some of whom are far more dangerous than your father, will come to investigate. There will be an Ascension ceremony and a Warlock will undertake it.”

He closed his eyes and calmed himself. “Flee, Master Erik. Until the mansion is rebuilt and until Crowley is forever destroyed. By staying here, you are endangering all of us—from Crowley, from the authorities, and most of all, from yourself.”

His voice dropped into a whisper. “I saw what you did. I saw all of it. How you lost control. What do you think will happen to Master Gil if that were to occur again?”

My heart thumped even harder and a lump rose to my throat. He was right. I was a monster, no different than the ones we hunted. Just more powerful and dangerous. Everyone around me was in danger. What’s more, he was right about Crowley. One look at that creep was enough to tell me I had piqued his interest, and not in a good way. He wanted my power, and his deal with Dad had now gone south. He’d come looking for blood and I couldn’t risk going wild again when Gil was around.

Without thinking, I bent down and grabbed Djinn. I spared one look at my sister and turned around. The wall behind me was a gaping hole, completely destroyed and half the roof gone with it.

I clutched my sword even harder, closed my eyes and ran as fast as I could, as far away as I could. I didn’t care where I went.

Just as long as it was far away from Gil.

***

Gil woke up to a gentle breeze. She was still in the same position, slumped on the floor where Mephisto had left her. She sat up to one side and gently stood up. Her head felt clearer.

The room around her was a macabre mess.

“Where’s Erik?” she asked the demon in front of her.

“He left,” he replied. “Your brother couldn’t bear what he did and what he had become. He left before he could bring any harm to you. Be it by himself or Alastair Crowley.”

Gil’s expression clenched at the sound of that name. “I should have killed that rat when I had the chance.”

“It’s no use crying over spilled milk,” Mephisto said. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to face her father.

The man was a bloody mess, nearly cut in two. Gil saw the extent of the damage to his internal organs. They had begun rotting from the inside, no doubt a side effect of all the drugs he had injected.

“But you can do something about him,” Mephisto whispered in her ear.

She saw her father’s chest heave slightly and she realized that he was still breathing. Her father was still alive!

“He killed your mother. He twisted me into torturing you all those years. He wanted to defile your mother’s corpse for a dark ritual. He sent Crowley after Erik and he nearly killed you. He drove Erik away from you. Master Gil, he is the one responsible for your sadness. Because of his actions, you are truly and utterly alone.”

She stood there shivering while the demon whispered truths in her ears. Her contempt for this man swelled until it hurt her chest.

“Kill him and liberate all of us from his diseased existence. Kill him, Master Gil, and relish in the closure. Kill him and Erik shall come back.”

She bent down and picked up a large shard of glass. She had no idea how all the debris and furniture had gotten into a sealed area like the Arena. It must have been during the battle between her brother and father. A battle she should have joined. Maybe she could have saved Erik from whatever happened to him.

But she was too weak.

Not anymore, she decided. No more crying. No more remorse. No more weakness.

Mephisto placed his hand gently on the small of her back, slowly pushing her towards the man she once considered her father.

No more.

She placed the glass shard on his neck. He opened his mouth to say something, more excuses.

“I don’t have a father anymore,” she said calmly. Her voice sounded foreign. “I don’t have a mother, either. I once had a brother, but he left. Maybe he’ll come back. Or maybe I will never see him again.”

The glass sliced his neck open as the girl dragged it across. Blood splattered, and hot droplets struck her cheek. But she never recoiled. She never flinched.

She just sliced the monster’s throat.

“But it’s okay,” she continued. “I will make it work. I will make this house work again.”

Once sure her father was dead, she dropped the shard. Her hand shook uncontrollably but she never faltered in her words.

“Come, Mephistopheles,” she said. “We have work to do.”

Chapter 29

Now

I paused to refilled my glass. The whiskey bottle had been replaced and even this second one was steadily dwindling. I had no idea what I was drinking, only that it tasted bitter and burned my throat. And that it killed all emotion in my voice. That was the important bit. Sun Tzu sat quietly with his gray eyes fixed on mine. I suppose to an old-school Chinese general, patricide was a big no-no.

Well, you asked for it, old man. Don’t judge me for not rolling over.

“I am uncertain what to say, Erik,” he said.

“Your silence says plenty,” I replied icily.

He averted his gaze, aware that he was staring. “I am sorry, I did not mean to judge. Sometimes my upbringing makes it difficult for me to understand modern social nuances.”

“There’s nothing modern about it.” I knocked back the amber liquid. “My old man was insane and I killed him because I had to. That’s all there is to it.”

“Either way, I apologize. I meant no offense.”

“Save it.”

“Erik,” he said. His stern voice was back. “Do not assume that pity is for weaklings. Friends cannot help but feel sorry for one another when one of them is suffering. I do feel bad for what happened to you, but make no mistake, I will not judge you for it.”

I smiled and bowed my head slightly. “Sorry for being a douche.”

“If you weren’t, I would start to worry,” he replied with a smile.

“Yeah, this is cute and all,” Amaymon interjected, “but I’m more interested in how you managed to defeat your old man, Erik. You don’t remember anything?”

I shook my head. “Just the usual stuff, I suppose. I remember feeling the same way I did when I went all supernova on the tanker. Other than that, nada.”

Amaymon, now back in his cat form, shook his little feline head slightly. “So, that gives us nothing.”

“Not precisely,” Sun Tzu replied. “Erik’s father did mention an artifact or a god hidden beneath the mansion. Have you looked into that?”

“I have. We have,” I corrected myself. “I even had Amaymon check the entire foundation of the house for anything out of the ordinary back when Gil decided to renovate.”

“And?”

“Nothing there,” Amaymon replied. “Just dirt and a whole bunch of critters.”

I nodded. “Dad was insane. He imagined crap that wasn’t there. That’s what crazy people do.”

Sun Tzu nodded. “I understand. But do not dismiss this story. Your past is directly tied to the events we are experiencing today.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“I do not know how,” he replied. “It is not in my nature to ask how. In my world things simply are, and neither reason nor justification is required.”

“Must be some world,” Amaymon muttered.

“It’s the same as yours, my friend,” Sun Tzu replied. “Only you are both too blind to see it for what it really is.”

“Oh. Right. That.” Amaymon made a growling sound. “What did you say you were again?”

“I did not say.”

“You Asians. Can’t talk straight, can’t drive straight.”

“Hey, guys,” I interjected. “Can we stop the supernatural cat fight?”

“Pun intended,” Amaymon added.

“Very well, Erik. You have my attention,” Sun Tzu said. “You may continue your story.”

I was about to, but stopped. I knew what was coming next.

Him.

I was going to divulge my history with the one man I considered a father, a mentor and a true inspiration. He was a good man, a decent person. And I had never told anyone about him.

“Check up on Abi first,” I asked Sun Tzu. Truth be told, I was stalling for time—just enough time to drown all emotions in burning alcoholic liquids.

Sun Tzu decided to humor me. “She is progressing well.”

“Any injuries?”

“Nothing physical. But I think she will have a bad migraine tomorrow.”

“How so?” I asked. “What’s that monkey doing to her?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Sun Tzu relied placidly. “Sun Wo Kung seems to enjoy riddles.”

“Riddles?” I felt my face twist into a frown.

Riddles? When I obtained my channel, the Jinn made me feel like garbage. It was a miracle I didn’t start cutting myself after the depression it gave me.

Sun Tzu placed his fingertips together. “Abigail and the Monkey King have a lot in common, hence they are highly compatible. Both of their natures dominate the mind rather than matter.”

“Doesn’t all magic require the mind?” I counter-argued.

“Well, yes, from a human perspective. But there are different categories of magic, and theirs is the mind. The psyche, if you will.” Sun Tzu exhaled and closed his eyes. He looked very tired and very old. “Your apprentice is a succubus, but also a witch. That means she has dominion over sensory magic. The Monkey King is a known trickster, specializing in perception alteration and glamouring. They are a perfect complement to each other’s powers. Not every battle involves hitting, Erik.”

“Just as long as she’s not in danger.”

“There is danger, Erik,” Sun Tzu replied. “There is always danger. But your apprentice is more powerful than you wish to admit.”

“Maybe.” Damned old man. Can old people read minds or something?

“Now,” he continued, “if you are done displacing your worries, my friend, I would be interested in hearing the rest of the story.” He poured more booze into my glass.

I took a swig, steeled myself, and resumed the story.

Chapter 30

Approximately 8 years ago

So, where is a sixteen-year-old runaway supposed to go?

Eureka had served as my only connection to the real world since I was a kid. We went to school there, and sometimes we were allowed to accompany Mephisto whenever he went to town under orders. As I entered adolescence, Eureka was the closest thing to civilization I knew.

It was my best bet to connect back to society. I had a lot of firsts in that town. There, Gil and I managed to sneak inside a bar last year. Whenever I snuck out for a bit of nightlife, I went there. Hell, I even got laid for the first time in that town.

So when I ran, I found myself running towards the only place I knew besides the forest.

But the world is not kind to runaways.

I looked like a hobo. Well, I guess I was one.

I spent the first month or so just living off the forest, foraging like a Neanderthal. I suppose I subconsciously drifted back into civilization and got spat out in Eureka. My clothes were decrepit and decayed in some places. I hadn’t bathed in days, and I had signs of forest life on me. What that meant was that I was covered in leaves and sap, not to mention animal droppings.

My sole possession was Djinn, which I wrapped in a blanket I found lying around. At least I had something other than leaves and dirt to sleep on at night.

In that state, I wandered into the city, wondering how to survive the next day. It was early evening and I saw a convenience store manager shutting down his store.

It was an opportunity not to starve. I took it.

I waited until the guy left and made my move. With Djinn, I made quick work of the shutter door and cameras. I had enough mud and dirt on my face that even with facial recognition software my features would be too obscure. Besides, who was going to believe that video—some wild kid with a glowing blue sword and then a flash of bright light? Anyone who wanted to remain out of an insane asylum would chalk it up to a technical malfunction and move on with their life.

I grabbed all I could and stuffed it in one of those handheld baskets. Anything edible within the first three aisles got dumped into the basket. I was on my way out when I saw the beverage display. Water was essential—the Jack Daniels was not.

Still, it went in the basket. If anyone had a reason to drink, it was me. Maybe I would blackout and never wake up. Maybe then I could forget.

I slumped down in a corner inside the first alleyway I found without any homeless people sheltered in it. I sat down, having nothing else to do, and took another swig from the bottle. The amber liquid burned my throat, and for a few seconds my attention was on the booze cascading into my system rather than the despair over becoming a street urchin.

So, that’s what depression felt like—a constant, endless stream of consciousness that would eventually lead to death.

Only, I couldn’t die.

I let my eyes shift through my surroundings, taking note of every detail on the buildings around me.

I saw it just two blocks down: a clinic, or so said the sign. It was dimly lit and most of the street was dead. I couldn’t see the moon from where I was, but the street lamps shed enough light for me to examine it.

Thoughts went wild in my head. Should I rob that, too? Surely there must be valuable stuff in there. I could sell the meds on the black market, if I could ever find a buyer. Or—and this scared the living hell out of me—I could just pop every pill I found and hope it killed me once and for all.

I saw a couple emerge from the building. The man had his arm in a sling, with his wife holding him steady. Judging by the way he walked, it was clear the poor guy was still feeling woozy from the anesthetic. I got a better look at them.

The woman was smiling and saying something, probably words of encouragement, or perhaps something to take his mind off the procedure he just had. The injury must not have been serious. Either that, or clinics were really short on space. I saw a nurse peek outside at them; so nice to find a worker who genuinely cares for her patients.

“Take care of yourself, Mr. Landis,” I heard her say.

The man muttered something and the woman relayed a thank you. She draped an arm around her husband.

“Come on, Collin. Let’s get you home.”

The scene nearly broke my heart. Why the fuck weren’t my parents like that?

My thoughts went from one crime to another, and soon a plan formed in my head. They must have paid the clinic, so there must be money inside the building. I could always overpower the staff inside. Perhaps even throw a couple of magic shots, just to make sure.

I threw myself against the wall, slamming the back of my head. What was I thinking? Was I really going to use my skills—skills meant to hunt down monsters—to rob some small-time clinic?

Was I really going to use magic against the sick and injured and the people who wanted to help them?

I crouched down, hugging the sword and the bottle. I broke down in tears and wanted nothing more than to die.

I was truly a monster, just like my father. I was just like him, harming innocents just to eat.

The bottle went flying. Glass exploded, showering me with bourbon.

I deserved to die—monsters deserved to die. I killed people, like my father, who were monsters. Now I had become one.

Where was my killer?

I didn’t notice it at first, but soon my senses picked up on it. The wall opposite me darkened and my body shivered in the sudden cold. It emerged like a shadow, slowly solidifying into a living nightmare.

It was a humanoid dressed in a tattered cloak of darkness from head to toe, hiding all of its features except for a set of three large claws, each the size of Djinn, emerging from each sleeve. Mist gathered as it exhaled. The creature took its first step towards me and I heard chains rattle. I could hear its rasped breathing and saw moisture glinting on the cloak as the creature salivated from its wide mouth. Each breath held a low whistle to it, like the wail of some far away creature.

My body shook in fear. I had never seen one of them but remembered reading about them, because they featured in a lot of my nightmares.

A wraith, a phantasm born out of hatred, fear and sadness.

Wraiths were rare enough for most wizards to avoid ever seeing one. They were usually found haunting traumatized people, slowly feeding off their negativity and growing stronger. Until they grew strong enough to become real. Then, they used those claws of theirs and devoured their victim one strip at a time, and thus sealing their bodies in reality forever. Once they touched flesh, they became physical creatures.

And the one before me was very real.

I forced my head to turn towards the clinic. All that pain must have called the wraith.

Something glinted off the sidewalk—blood. I saw their bodies lying in the shadows, but their clothing confirmed who they were. The old couple, or whatever was left of them, lay dead and ripped apart on the street like road kill. This wraith must have fed off them.

But what was it doing here, in front of me, instead of at the clinic? Surely there must be a fuller meal there?

Then it hit me. It wasn’t the suffering at the clinic that had attracted this wraith. Sure, that was where it may have been created, but it would still need a major boost of energy in order to solidify enough to interact with physical objects. The kind of energy that came from extreme emotions.

Like wanting to kill yourself.

I realized this wraith had nothing to do with the clinic. I had fed it and made it manifest into reality. I gazed at the tattered bodies—I might as well have killed them myself.

The wraith inhaled deeply and let out a satisfied exhalation. The wails and rasping of its breath intensified. I heard the rattling of chains as it shifted and raised a hand. The three wicked claws caught the streetlight and cast a macabre shadow over my body.

I didn’t move. What was the point? Wasn’t this what I wanted? This Wraith was my sadness and fear and anger, all meshed into one monstrosity. Now, it was going to kill me. From where I stood, that was only justice. I prayed for my punisher and it had arrived.

I closed my eyes and hoped that the damned thing would at least give me a quick death.

I saw a burst of light and instinctively opened my eyes. The wraith was shrinking, backing up against the wall, seeking refuge in the shadows. But the new apparition offered only light. It moved like water, as if liquid had solidified into a dynamic creature. After my eyes adjusted to the intense luminosity I recognized some features.

A thin mane along a powerful neck. Four powerful legs that stomped the ground and showered the gravel in sparks. A tail flicking to and fro. A muscular body with a belly like a barrel. A long head with two luminescent eyes on each side and a snout from which the creature whinnied.

A horse.

I was looking at a horse shaped from pure white light. It trotted towards the wraith, which had stopped rasping and was just wailing at this point. It took a swipe at the animal with its claws but the appendage simply passed through harmlessly. The horse reared up and trampled the wraith, exploding into a supernova.

“Ah, that was close.”

A middle-aged man emerged. His hair was a shaggy mess, gray like the robe he wore. His undershirt was once white, but weather and travel had darkened it. His pants were black and caked with dried mud and dirt. His hiking boots, their original brown color indistinguishable from the mud crusted on it, were worn and old. The man carried a rucksack on one shoulder.

“Hello,” he said sweetly. His accent was eastern, and as he came closer, I saw his heavily tanned skin and a gray goatee. He extended one hand towards me. “My name is Tenzin.”

Chapter 31

I remember waking up in a warehouse. For a moment, the world spun, and when it finally settled down I tried to remember the past few days. It all seemed like a dream—the battle with my father, running away from home, living like Tarzan and slumming in an alleyway like a bum. My eyes wandered down my body and the ragged clothes confirmed this was no dream.

I heard a noise behind me like the clanking of metal and instinctively rose into a crouch. My hands felt the floor around me, hoping to grasp my magical short sword, but I found nothing. The warehouse door opened a crack and closed again. I heard footsteps and squinted to see who was entering. A lone man walked gingerly with a bundle in one hand. He saw me glaring at him and beamed.

“Ohayo,” he said. He sat down on a trunk a few feet away from me. “That is Japanese for ‘good morning’.” He motioned me towards him as he set his bundle down.

“Come, come,” he said. The bundle came undone and inside I saw three fishes, each the size of my forearm. My mouth began watering. It seemed that my diet of one meal a day, consisting of forest life, stolen groceries and whiskey, wasn’t exactly what one would call ‘healthy’.

The Asian man smiled and picked up one of the fish. He extracted a small penknife and gutted his catch, throwing the remains in an empty rusted can of paint. He picked out a small, straight stick from the rucksack at his feet and skewered the fish. Its cousins suffered the same fate.

“Breakfast,” he said with a smile. A pencil mustache and goatee stretched along his lips, and his eye folds completely covered his eyes. His messy gray hair was darker than I remembered last night, and I smelled ocean water on him. I heard waves crashing outside, and I guessed this warehouse was somewhere near the docks.

He placed the fish in a triangle, pinning the tip of the stakes emerging from the tails to the ground, and tied the top of the skewers together in a sort of pyramid.

“How did you manage to catch those?” I asked. Small talk was better than asking exactly what happened after I fainted yesterday, or why he had chosen to bring me here.

He placed his hands around the fish-kebab construction. The space on the floor underneath the fish was charred. He whispered something, and fire burst out on the scorched spot. Soon, the place was filled with the heavenly smell of cooking fish.

“I have my methods,” he replied. The smile never left and his eyes seemed to twinkle. He took a flask from his backpack and handed it over to me. I heard the sloshing of liquid inside and uncapped the flask to smell its contents. It was just water. I took a tentative sip and realized just how hungry and thirsty I was.

“Easy, easy,” he said gently. I lowered the flask and wiped my mouth. “You are dehydrated and malnourished. You must not rush your body when regaining your strength.”

“You don’t know me,” I murmured.

“My name is Tenzin,” he said, extending his hand. “After you were attacked yesterday, you lost consciousness, so I brought you here. Feel free to stay until you recover.”

I wearily shook his hand. “Why?” I asked.

“Because not enough kindness is shown in this world. So, I have made it my mission to help people wherever Kami-sama sends me.”

“Who?”

Tenzin chuckled. “I apologize. I grew up in a Japanese monastery. Kami-sama means God.”

“So, you’re on a mission from God?” I asked with my eyebrows arched. Just my luck—my savior had to either be a Bible-thumping nut job or a terrorist. “And what exactly are you supposed to be doing?”

Tenzin’s expression got serious. He clasped his hands together. “I never really stopped to question it. I wander around wherever destiny pulls me. There, I find someone who needs my help, usually from something dangerous.”

“Like a wraith?”

Tenzin’s eyes squinted. “So, you are a wizard after all. I had my suspicions but we couldn’t communicate at the time because of your condition. What is your name, my young friend?”

“Erik.”

“Well, Erik, how are you feeling? Still feel like killing yourself?”

I gave him a look. “That’s none of your business.”

“My apologies,” he replied. “However, I cannot allow you to harm yourself in my presence. It is my duty to preserve life wherever I see it.”

I scoffed at him. “Another bleeding heart. You don’t know half of what I’ve been through, old man. So, shove off,” I said as aggressively as I could.

If my words affected the Asian guy, he didn’t show it. “Yes, that is true, I do not know of your troubles. But I find that once you share them, you are able to see your problems with a more rational perspective.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it. It might get me killed.” I looked away from him. “You may be the killer for all I know.”

“Yosh!” He rubbed his hands together. “A story for a story,” he said, extending both index fingers.

I couldn’t help smiling. It was so funny watching this middle-aged man with gray hair, smelling of fish, waving about his fingers. The enthusiasm was something I’d expect from a kid, not an adult with a mission from God.

“It’s a long story,” I warned.

“And the fish take a long time to cook,” he replied.

“Whatever.” I shrugged. “But you go first. What are you?”

Tenzin stood and bowed deeply. “I am a poor man from a Tibetan village that no longer exists. It was destroyed by dark creatures many, many years ago. I was found and adopted by a monastery in the Iga Mountains in Japan. They taught me to abandon myself to faith and let go of my anger and other earthly attachments. In return, I was blessed with powers to bring about peace and kindness.”

As he spoke, his form shimmered in light and power beyond anything I had ever felt before. Like an aura, the light intensified, becoming more solid. Tenzin stood in the middle of a Buddha made out of light. It would have been funny and clichéd, were it not for the sheer power of Tenzin’s aura. It was as though I were in the middle of a vast ocean with no end in sight.

“My faith allows me to summon the elements in the forms of devas, or animal spirits.” Tenzin’s voice echoed like a struck gong. His words resonated inside my very core as if the deity he represented was speaking directly at me. “I believe you have already met one of them.”

“The horse,” I said, remembering the creature made out of pure white light that had destroyed the wraith.

“Yes. It represents purity, and only manifests itself in the presence of foul creatures,” Tenzin said.

The Buddha behind him dissolved again and shrunk. It solidified into a creature about half my height, and when the light became less intense I could make out a canine figure. Tenzin sat back down on the trunk and watched the dog as it took on the shape of an Alsatian with gray-white fur and intelligent blue eyes. The dog hung its head low and padded toward me. Without any warning, it extended its long wet tongue and began licking my fingers. My hand caressed its head, trailing along from its wet nose to the soft, silky fur on its snout. The creature lowered its head further. I rubbed the fur behind its ears and on its shoulders. All I heard for a few minutes were the intense short breaths of the dog as it rumbled happily with its tongue hanging out and tail whipping from side to side.

I sensed power radiating from it, a more compressed and focused version of the Buddha’s, like a different instrument playing on the melody. It seemed more familiar, a sensation that touched my heart directly—as if my troubles no longer existed and everything was going to be all right. The darkness I thought had become my very existence shed away to reveal the happy yet lonely boy who had lost his way in the world.

The more I petted the dog, the more light-hearted I became. It was that feeling of pure comfort and love, something rarely felt by humans with their jaded brains. A feeling of utter kindness and devotion, a feeling of pure love.

The back of my head, the jaded part hardened by years of living a life of traps and fighting, connected the dots. Those were feelings associated with dogs. The dog was a spell, so these feelings must be the effect of magic, and therefore, not real.

I forced my hand away from the dog and a shiver ran through my spine as if I had done the most unnatural thing in the world. The dog reared its head up and stared at me with its intelligent eyes.

“The power to give kindness to others,” Tenzin said as he nodded towards the dog. “That is the true power of a god, the power to give unto others kindness, respect and love.”

“So, it’s not a trick?” My voice was throaty, as if I were about to burst into tears at any moment.

“No,” Tenzin said gently. “I do not control the power of Kami-sama. I am merely a conduit, a vessel for a greater being. That-” he pointed at the dog “-is an aspect of God, one it decided to bestow on you.”

His words hit me hard, and a lump formed in my throat. My hand reached out and petted the dog once more. Peace and clarity entered me, filling me with hope.

“Thank you,” I mouthed to the animal as I felt something small, hot and wet trickle down my cheeks. The dog rolled out its tongue again and hyperventilated happily. It slowly dissolved, vanishing from beneath my fingers.

“Wow.” I wiped my eyes with my sleeve.

“Indeed,” Tenzin replied.

“Have you ever felt that?”

“Every day of my life. Especially when I help someone like you,” he said kindly.

“No wonder you’re always smiling,” I retorted.

“Yes, I am truly blessed.” He prodded a fish. “Still a little raw. Perhaps we can pass the time with one more story,” he said, looking at me intently.

“Fine. But first, I gotta ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

“I had a blanket with me wherever I went. You didn’t happen to pick that up as well did you?” I asked, half-expecting him to say that he left Djinn in that alleyway.

Tenzin rose from his seat, flipped the trunk open and tilted it. Inside was my short sword with its cover slightly looser than I remembered.

“Quite the weapon you carry, Erik,” he remarked. He closed the lid and sat back on the trunk. “That sort of thing is quite dangerous.”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“It’s a dangerous artifact capable of tainting your thoughts.”

“It’s my channel. It’s attuned to me,” I replied.

“Hm, that would explain the hostility I sensed from it,” Tenzin pondered. He sighed. “Either way, I cannot give it back yet.”

“And why the hell not?” I said angrily. I began forming a plan to attack him, although I wasn’t very confident in my powers after his demonstration. But on the other hand, that channel was my only source of magic and a connection to my family—the loving members.

I was ready to fight if that’s what it took to retrieve it.

“Because I would rather both of us remain unarmed and enjoyed a peaceful breakfast,” Tenzin replied simply.

“Fine. Shall I start with my story or my power?”

“Are you not a wizard?”

“Not exactly.” I paced around the warehouse. The place looked like an abandoned chop shop. I picked up a rusty nail, a long one, and held it towards Tenzin like a magician displaying his cards.

“Erik, what are you going to do with th-”

Before he could finish his sentence I stabbed the nail into my palm. It tore through my flesh and an inch of rusty steel emerged from back of my hand.

Tenzin rushed over to me. “What are you doing?” he asked as he grasped my hand.

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “Just pull it out.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” he asked with genuine concern.

“I’m used to much worse.”

Tenzin pulled the nail free and tossed it behind him.

“Look.” I wiped blood away from my hand so that the hole was visible. Tenzin gasped softly as the wound healed itself in a matter of seconds. He prodded the newly sealed flesh tentatively.

“Good as new,” I said.

“Remarkable,” he whispered, staring at the spot on my palm. “You have a truly amazing gift, Erik.”

“Yeah, but I don’t see it that way,” I replied. “I can heal from almost anything. But I can’t use magic because of it.”

Tenzin’s eyes darkened. “So, I suspect this special blade of yours is the only way you can use magic? Is that why you were prepared to attack me to retrieve it?”

“Yes.” I hung my head slightly. “And sorry.”

Tenzin let out a chuckle. “No matter, my young friend, no matter. But I would still like to share a breakfast without weapons if it’s all the same to you. I promise to return your belongings after we are done and we decide where you are headed next.”

I frowned slightly. Decide where I was headed next seemed like code for ‘tell you what to do and where to go’. Still, if he wanted to hurt me, he had ample opportunity to do so. Might as well play along until I got my sword back. Then, I could play by my rules again.

But for now, I had a story to recount.

Chapter 32

Tenzin waited patiently until I finished my story, nodding slightly whenever I hit a dramatic moment. I found myself talking and talking, spewing the story out like water from a dam. It seemed so surreal, as if I were recounting a movie rather than my life story.

A bad movie, at that.

Once I got to the part about Djinn and explained how it was an heirloom from my mother, Tenzin exhaled in a long breath and got off his trunk. He took the blade out, careful to grasp it only by the parts that were covered by the blanket and handed it to me without a word. I paused for a moment just to enjoy the familiar feeling of the channel in my hands. Putting it aside, I kept on with my story.

The fish tasted delicious. Neither Tenzin nor I said a word after I finished the story and he handed me a skewered fish, cooked just right. I dug in ravenously, not caring for bones or scales. He simply smiled and offered me a second fish. I muttered my thanks and devoured that, too. Tossing the skewers away, I sighed in relief—best meal ever.

“So, what now?” I asked.

Tenzin rubbed his goatee absentmindedly. “Now, I shall go into the city and wander around. I am sure Kami-sama will guide me.”

I snorted softly. I was never one for religious belief. Being raised by a demon in a house in the middle of the forest does wonders for your cynicism. It seemed stupid to me, wandering around, bumping into stuff and calling it an act of god. Sounded like something a directionless person would do.

Yes, but where is your direction, Erik? said the small voice inside my head. Where are you gonna go?

The voice was right. I had nowhere to go, and the idea of someone or something smarter than me telling me where to go sounded good from where I was standing. Maybe God will provide for me the same way it provided for Tenzin.

Let’s just hope that God wasn’t picky.

Tenzin seemed to read my mind. “I would be honored if you joined me for a while, Erik. It would be wonderful to have some company,” he said with his usual smile.

***

“What exactly are we doing here?”

My voice was drowned amid a busy, open market. People were everywhere, some stopping abruptly to look at something in a stall. Others brushed against me, twisting my shoulders and sending me staggering. A few spoke loudly and obnoxiously on their cell phones as they weaved in and out of the crowd. Worse than them were the rude bastards who just shouted across the street to their friends.

Tenzin stopped in front of a stall, and I felt his rucksack against my chest. His fingers mused over the crate of fruit in front of him and picked up a couple of oranges. He extracted a few coins from his pocket and paid the stall owner. He then pulled me aside and handed me an orange. I stood there with a quizzical look on my face, trying to force an explanation out of him.

“Now, we wait,” was all he said. “And eat.” His fingers dug into the orange skin and peeled the fruit.

“Eat,” he insisted as he took a bite.

I peeled the fruit and put a slice in my mouth. It tasted delicious and cool. As I swallowed, warmth grew in my belly with a slight tingling sensation. I looked up at Tenzin, who chewed contentedly and winked at me. My eyes caught movement and I saw something white and opaque on the hand holding his orange. At first I thought it was a bird of sorts. It looked like a puff of smoke, with wisps of white curling around it like threads. It hopped from his palm to his forearm, its ears flopping in the air.

The smallest of rabbits, tiny enough to fit in the palm of your hand. It made its way along Tenzin’s arm and touched its nose to the fruit.

“The rabbit deva makes a single item of food last for the whole day in your body,” Tenzin explained. He picked up the bunny with his other hand and placed it on my shoulder. The rabbit deva wiggled its nose two inches from my eyes in that funny way that only rabbits can manage. It hopped down my arm and did its nose-waggling at my orange before disappearing into a puff of smoke.

“Weird.” I took another bite, and could swear that the orange tasted better than before. The warmth in my stomach increased. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just deeply satisfying. “But handy to have around,” I commented.

Tenzin opened his mouth to respond, but held his silence. His eyes darted towards something behind me and pulled me farther under the shade of the wall.

“No, you listen to me.” The angry voice came from the direction of the market. A short man wearing an apron yelled at his cellphone while sweat trickled down his forehead. “I ain’t going inside that goddamn place before you call pest control. That thing attacked me. It’s the size of a truck now. Call them animal people or somethin’. No, you listen to me, dammit. I ain’t getting no crates of ham. Probably why the goddamn thing got so big in the first place. Call pest control or something, or I ain’t opening that warehouse ever again. Let the damn thing rot in there for all I care.” He snapped his phone shut and fumed. The man wiped his brow and shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“Wait here,” Tenzin said with a smirk.

I watched as he walked briskly towards the man, who had his back turned to Tenzin. The latter collected his power, and I remembered his overwhelming energy when he summoned the Buddha. The effect lasted only a second, and a familiar Alsatian dog manifested beside Tenzin. I smiled as I watched him talk to the stall manager and bow slightly to him. The man kept talking to Tenzin, but bent down to pet the dog, which was acting docile and goofy, tongue hanging out and huffing happily. The man exclaimed “Thank you!” to Tenzin and shook his hand enthusiastically. Tenzin bowed curtly and walked away.

“We have a job to do tonight,” he said.

“Yeah.” I paused. “So, is convincing people to trust you considered an act of God?”

Tenzin let out a chuckle. “Let’s call it divine intervention,” he said as he glanced at the dog. The Alsatian barked once and disappeared into a million specks of light.

Warehouse fifteen was dank and gray. It looked like something out of a B-movie, with a rusted door and moss slowly populating the sides, one square inch at a time. The entire area was bathed in orange lights and shadows. It was a warehouse haven, each placed next to the other like Lego blocks.

“This is it,” Tenzin said as he pointed at the large number 15 painted in red over the right side of the door. I rolled my eyes and tried not to say anything about stating the obvious.

“My boy, would you mind getting the door?” Tenzin placed a hand on his hip and massaged it. “I’m an old man with a bad back.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You’re rubbing your hip.”

“I meant to say my hips.”

“And yet, you said your back.”

“Would you please open the door, Erik? My English is not so good, you see.”

“Seemed perfectly good to me until now.”

“I am an old man, Erik.”

I gripped the door handle and dragged it to the side. The rusted hinges offered a little resistance before giving. A crack of darkness grew wide enough for two people to pass through side-by-side.

“I know you’re old,” I replied as we got in. “You’re going senile.”

Tenzin said nothing and walked inside, veering toward the right.

“Look at this,” he said as he pointed at something very close to the door.

I glanced over his shoulder. “Is that-”

“Yes,” he replied. He poked a finger inside the large pile of manure. “This is chiropteran droppings.”

“Ew,” I replied. “Do you usually dig your hands in poop?”

“If necessary.”

“And did you wash your hands before handing me that orange earlier today?”

Tenzin stood up and pondered. “I really cannot remember.”

My stomach turned.

“But do not worry,” he continued. “The rabbit deva acts as a disinfectant.”

“Really?”

Tenzin shrugged. I was about to say something when we heard it. A shriek, like a thousand crows, echoed throughout the warehouse, making everything vibrate.

“Erik,” Tenzin whispered once the shriek stopped, leaving only a ringing silence. “Crouch down very slowly and do not make a sound.”

I obeyed, and slid against the wall with my eyes transfixed in the darkness. Tenzin fumbled around and I heard a metallic click. He had flipped the circuit breaker, once again illuminating the warehouse.

I heard a shriek and a violent gust of wind blasted me. Instinctively, I pushed sideways, my legs burning with the effort, and rolled awkwardly to my right. The black monster flew cleanly by and circled back. It hung upside down from a support bar, squeezing the metal under the grip of its talons.

At first glance it looked like a giant bat, maybe two and a half meters in length. It had talons like a raptor’s that squeezed the metal support bar it hung from, crushing it like a tin can.

The monster stood tall and proud like an eagle, except that it was upside down. Its body was covered in long black fur, giving it a puffed-up look. From its sides, a pair of bat-like wings spread out, each two meters long and made out of thick, jet-black leather. A pair of wicked, curved claws, like meat hooks, reflected the light. They were the same color as the wings, completely hidden in darkness until the moment they skewered you. Its head cocked itself at an angle like a bird’s. A pair of knobby, forward-facing horns emerged from the sides of its head where its ears should have been. The horns vibrated slightly, picking up on any movement or sound. The chiropteran opened its mouth to deliver a quick shriek. It had no pointy fangs or fancy beak. Instead I saw a hole, like a sucker, and around this sucker were rows of small teeth, like a spiral of white enamel. I shuddered involuntary. Those teeth weren’t for ripping out flesh. They were made for juicing you into a gooey paste that could be sucked directly into the monster’s stomach.

The chiropteran released its hold on its perch and dropped down. Its wings spread and it glided right at me, talons bared. I placed my right hand on my chest and pulled at a knot, releasing Djinn. I grasped the hilt and swung at the talons raking toward me, releasing an arc of blue energy from the blade. The hit altered the angle of the attack, sending the beast sideways. It flapped its wings awkwardly to avoid slamming onto a wall.

“It seems to like you, Erik,” Tenzin said. The old man was weaving in and out of the large crates and containers piled on top of each other, moving like a breeze. The bat never noticed him.

“Shut up,” I said as I ran away from the flapping and screeching.

“Perhaps I should provide a distraction?” he suggested.

The chiropteran got wise to my act and avoided my second attack, swerving to one side like a race car driver as blue energy streaked by. One of its wings caught my side, sending me crashing against a crate. A claw raked across my chest, tearing open a gash. My powers healed me instantly but it still hurt like a bitch.

“You know,” I called out to Tenzin. “Maybe you could provide a distraction.”

I heard him chuckle.

Heat emanated from the other side of the warehouse. A single spot shone brightly, becoming increasingly intense by the heartbeat. The chiropteran twisted its head towards the light, its small, bulbous, blood-red eyes searching for its source.

Like a moth to a flame, I thought. The beast took flight lazily and circled over Tenzin, who stood still at the center of the light.

I searched the room for something to give me an advantage. The warehouse was a mess of crates piled on top of each other with scratch marks on nearly every wall and smashed wood littering the areas of the room where the bat had gone rabid. Small piles of bones were tucked in one corner, and I shuddered to think whose they were.

An idea formed in my head as I saw the beast float hypnotically towards Tenzin.

“Erik,” Tenzin yelled. “Please, do something before I run out of energy.”

“Got it.”

Tenzin released his power and the light disappeared. The bat shook its head violently and swooped towards him. It swooped again and again, raking with its talons, trying to catch the pesky little man. Tenzin had a different style of evasion than I did. He would twist and turn in tight circles, always narrowly avoiding a lethal blow.

I climbed on the first crate and leapt onto a higher one. My body remembered the mechanics of climbing from all those days of training in the forest. I ran towards a particularly high container, took two steps upwards and grasped the ledge. I pulled myself up and climbed a smaller container on top of that. Soon, I was only a few feet away from banging my head against the ceiling.

The chiropteran flapped below, its focus completely on Tenzin.

Here’s a little piece of knowledge about birds or anything that flies: their advantage was that they could swoop down from the shelter of the sky and surprise their victims. They didn’t have to worry about something sneaking up on them because where was it going to hide?

They also think they are the only ones with the aerial advantage and therefore have no protection against something that is above them.

I was above the chiropteran in plain sight, and yet it never noticed me—which was exactly what I was going for. I jumped down, with Djinn glowing an intense blue, my power ready to strike. I rocketed down towards the bat’s long, furry body and unleashed a crescent-shaped blast of azure energy. It caught the target perfectly, and no amount of shrieking and flapping could slow the bat as it slammed into the floor.

Now, here’s some information about our species: we can’t fly, but we think we can. I thought that I could either land on the bat as it fell down or that maybe the blowback from my energy would propel me towards a container where I could then perform some awesome ninja acrobatics, land safely, and amaze everyone.

I was wrong.

For one thing, I couldn’t aim that well—no land creature could. I veered off to one side as I swung my arm to blast the chiropteran with Djinn, throwing me off my trajectory and falling all the way down.

My back met a wooden crate at a million miles per hour and flattened it. I was pretty sure some of the cracking and snapping came from my spine. The impact made my eyes roll to the back of my head, and I felt as if every bone in my body had been broken. I couldn’t breathe and was hanging onto consciousness by a fine thread.

The chiropteran was luckier. The damage it took from my sword and the subsequent fall must have hurt it, but the damn thing was covered in fur. My hazy mind made a quick connection: fur equals less ouch, which means the damn thing could get up faster.

It stood awkwardly on all fours and loomed over me, before bringing its disturbing sucker-mouth close to my face, ready to shred me. I got Djinn in between us, aimed the tip at its neck, and closed my eyes in disgust. I channeled all my power through my sword and a beam of energy shot from the tip, carrying the bat upwards. It flapped its wings, trying to regain balance, but instead crashed against a wall.

A quick burst of light exploded from the walls as the smell of ozone and burnt plastic filled the air. The chiropteran spasmed, but remained glued to the walls. The shrieking made my ears ring, and after a few seconds the light was gone as every bulb in the warehouse burst in a shower of glass. The monster crashed onto a stack of crates, lying very still.

I stood and searched for Tenzin. With a light sound, the emergency lights on top of the door kicked in, and I saw him crouched slightly with his fingers hovering around an electrical outlet.

“Was that you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied as he rubbed his fingers together. The smallest of lightning bolts, tiny enough to crackle between his middle and index finger, snaked once around his hand before disappearing completely.

“Neat trick.”

“It’s all about subtlety, Erik.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.” I pointed at the dead monster. “I wonder what made it nest in here.”

“There are two reasons creatures take shelter,” Tenzin said. “Fear or breeding.”

I looked at the chiropteran’s claws. The sensation of being raked by them was painfully fresh. “I don’t think anything could have scared that away.”

“Then perhaps, we can search for signs of breeding,” Tenzin suggested as he walked over to one corner. I followed his lead and headed over to another corner.

I found what I was looking for easily enough. It looked like any other bird’s nest, except it was the size of a small car. Inside were three eggs, ordinary as can be. Each looked about four times the size of a regular chicken’s egg.

“I think I found our happy family,” I called out. Beside the eggs sat a broken crate and a half-eaten ham. Guess that solved the mystery of what was in the crates, as well as the bones I had seen earlier.

Tenzin glanced over to the eggs and placed a palm on one of them. “These hatchlings are soon due to come out. A month, perhaps, at the latest.”

“You’re a bat whisperer now?”

“I have a way with animals,” he replied. Then, his expression darkened. “They will hatch and demand a fresh kill. Something with running blood. This preserved food will not be sufficient for them.”

“Meaning they’ll hunt people,” I said.

“Yes.”

Without warning, I tightened my grip on Djinn and channeled just enough power into it to coat the blade in azure flame and elongate it. I brought the weapon down on the eggs, destroying the hatchlings before they could hurt anyone. I hacked once, twice, and backed away as the goo spilled over. The carcasses of the baby monsters fell down on the nest, most of them in a bloody mess. I sent a wave of energy at them just to be sure.

Tenzin made a sound.

“What?” I said. “Was I supposed to let them live because every life deserves a chance or some other bullshit?”

“No,” he replied. “I was just wondering if the eggs were edible or not.”

I rolled my eyes and let out a chuckle. As we walked out, he slung an arm around my shoulder. We both smelled like bat crap.

“You got anything that makes water?” I asked.

Tenzin straightened up. “Like what?”

“I dunno. A magic water deva or something.”

Tenzin concentrated, and the Alsatian dog appeared with the usual light show. Tenzin petted the dog once and sent it away. The dog ran down the dimly lit street, its tongue lolling from its mouth.

“I’m just sayin’,” I continued. “You got a magic friendship dog. Why can’t you have something that makes water? Water is useful.”

“Why would I need God’s help getting something so easily procured? It’s called God’s favor, not a wish list.”

“Do you have any water then, since it’s so easily procured?”

“No, I do not have any water.”

“So, where am I supposed to get water?” I insisted. Tenzin pointed at the ocean. “Really? You expect me to wash in salt water?”

“People have been doing it for centuries,” Tenzin replied with a shrug.

“That’s fresh water. Like a river.”

Tenzin eyes opened wide in wanderlust. “Perhaps that is why my clothes need replacing so often.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe if you had a deva that sews clothes.”

“No such thing, my friend. Now, excuse me while I welcome our friend.” Tenzin turned to look at the direction the dog had run off to.

It returned, followed closely by the warehouse owner, who huffed out of breath.

“Your buddy here smelled me out,” he said between wheezes. “I was waitin’ to see you in action.”

“I’m afraid the job is done,” Tenzin replied. He placed one hand on the man’s shoulder. “Listen to me. It was a giant bat, perhaps six feet long.” The owner’s eyes widened. “It’s dead now, don’t worry. But you need to burn the body and bury what’s left. Do not take pictures of it. Do not share this information with the public.” The dog rubbed against the warehouse owner’s legs and he petted it unconsciously. “I am saying this for your safety. There are many who will harm you if you start a conspiracy. It’s better to go about your peaceful life, my friend.”

Tenzin’s tone was calming and hypnotic. The guy just threatened the owner, but not once did I feel hostility coming from him. Perhaps he was referring to the other whack-job wizards like my Dad, who wouldn’t think twice before killing someone.

The man nodded sharply. “I ain’t telling nobody. Who would believe me? I’d end up in a nut house.” Then, as an afterthought, he said, “You guys never told me how much.”

Tenzin smiled. “We never asked to be paid.”

“Then how about a crate? This is some premium ham, best of the best. I get it cheap from Canada,” he said proudly.

Tenzin was about to decline when he heard my stomach rumble. He gave me a look, which I returned by glowering at him. “Perhaps one for the road then.”

The man went inside to get our payment.

“I thought you ate a fruit that the rabbit deva touched,” Tenzin whispered.

“Yes, I did. But I think my magic must have nullified the spell,” I whispered back.

“Erik, you are one strange boy,” he replied with a sigh.

“You have no idea.”

Chapter 33

That night we slept back at the abandoned warehouse. Not the most comfortable place to get some shut-eye, but hey, I guess warehouse beats ditch, right?

Besides, it wasn’t so bad. Tenzin was snoring lightly a few feet away, curled up in a blanket he produced from his rucksack. It looked thick and warm. I had no such luxury. A tarpaulin was folded underneath me like an extremely hard and rough cushion. The blanket I used to wrap around Djinn came from my shoulder to my knees and did very little against the cold ocean breeze that snuck in from holes and cracks all over the walls.

Yet, despite all that, I felt more comfortable than I had in a long time. I lay on my back looking through a small window. I could hear the incoming waves gently brushing against the shore. The stars shone bright, though not quite as bright as they did over Trinity Forest. The best part was the moon, a silver crescent that bathed everything in faint light. This warehouse was peaceful.

It took a few days to adjust to my new lifestyle with Tenzin. It was an eye-opening experience, to say the least. Tenzin was nothing like any other person I had ever encountered. People have their own reasons for doing things—Tenzin seemed to exist solely to help others. He had completely risen above our societal needs. He lived by whatever life sent his way and made that work perfectly. We spent a month together, roaming the land from one town to another. We helped people, not for money or rewards, but merely for the sake of helping those in need.

And for a while, I felt truly at peace.

But it couldn’t last forever. In the furthest recesses of my mind, the image of Alastair Crowley remained firmly etched. I kept replaying the night I killed my father over and over again, wondering if I could have done something differently.

No, was the answer. I wouldn’t change anything. I would still kill him because he still wanted to kill Gil and me.

Gil’s horrified expression was something else I would never forget. I couldn’t even imagine what she was going through right now. Was she rebuilding the house? If it were up to me, I’d tear the place down and just move on. But Gil loved that place—for her, it had always been home.

I ran away and joined up with Tenzin in his nomadic mission from God or whatever, but I guess I mostly did it to outrun Crowley. I could feel him on the hunt—he was getting closer, I knew it. Tenzin would listen and nod every time I relayed my suspicions to him. He would assure me that I was safe and that he would protect me. I’d end up scoffing at him, pretending I didn’t need some old man’s protection and he would smile, knowing all along it was just an act. He would say to have faith, that God will protect us from Crowley and that God would never give us a challenge that we couldn’t face.

And for a while, God did protect us. But I guess he was on a budget, because one day Tenzin just up and decided to train me.

“I have been pondering this decision for a while now, my friend,” he said. “And I do believe that I can see your Achilles Heel.” He sat down cross-legged and motioned for me to do the same. “You have the skill to hunt beasts, but this Crowley is no beast. He has more than instinct—he has intellect. You must learn how to fight off smart predators, not simply hunt the prey. And most importantly, you will learn how to fight your biggest foe.”

“Crowley?” I suggested.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “You think it is, but it is not so. Your biggest foe is also your biggest ally, Erik. It is yourself.”

“How the hell can I fight myself and ally with myself at the same time?”

“That, my dear friend, you will discover on your own as you progress.” He stood up and placed his palms together, bowing slightly. “Will you allow me to teach you?”

I mirrored his behavior and bowed. “Yes, I would be honored.”

That was when we moved back to Eureka, back to our old abandoned warehouse. We were, perhaps, a few hours away by foot, and Tenzin spent the entire day just talking and talking, trying to explain philosophy to me. Honestly, I felt sorry for him. Trying to teach me anything by talking seemed to do as much good as putting swim fins on a cat and chucking it in the water. I think he finally got the message, because we spent the last hour in silence.

“So, this is where we’re gonna train?” I asked.

The warehouse was exactly as we had left it two weeks ago when we had to go on a case. It was damp, dark, and smelled like scallops. Also, there wasn’t a single patch of ground that didn’t have oil stains or cracks, or just some weird pus-like moss spawning from it. One side had workbenches and tools, although there was more rust than metal. With no light or power, we had to make-do with windows and sunlight.

“No,” Tenzin replied. He went over to a wall, this one devoid of furniture and rusting metal, and pulled the tarpaulin covering a section of it. Moss and dust spread out like a cloud.

Over the wall was a spray-painted symbol: a circle within a circle, and runes etched in-between the two. In the middle of everything, I recognized one giant Chinese character that I remembered meant ‘gate’. The whole arrangement was twice the size of Tenzin, more than ten feet long and wide.

“Behind this gate is a pocket universe I created using the style of the Ryugyu Temple,” Tenzin explained as he placed a palm on the circle and channeled energy into it. The circles began rotating like gears, one spinning clockwise, the other counter-clockwise. The runes glowed and the ‘gate’ character dissolved into a mass of light that warped in on itself.

“This is my own personal paradise,” Tenzin continued, “and I do believe it is time I shared it with someone else.” He took my hand and together, we walked through the light.

Tenzin wasn’t kidding when he said it was a paradise.

Stepping into that pocket dimension was mind-boggling and elating at the same time. I was raised in a house full of Warlocks, so I had no problem accepting the fact that a completely different universe—even a small one like this—was hidden right under our noses. I wasn’t completely sure of how that worked, but I could look past it.

What really grasped my full attention was the scenery. We emerged on an open plain covered with grass, smooth and silky. In the distance was a small patch of trees, and a river which flowed until it reached a large pond. On the other side of the pond water flowed out again, a snake of clear liquid that disappeared in the horizon.

Tenzin cocked his head and began walking. I shook myself out of my daze and followed him. The air smelt of grass and budding flowers, like an eternal spring. The sun wasn’t too hot or bright, just perfect.

We walked until we reached a footpath, bending and twisting as the path spiraled onward. Finally, we reached the top of a hill. I walked to the very edge and peered down. The edges were jagged like a cliff, and for a second a touch of vertigo overtook me. Steeling myself, I focused on the scene in front of me instead.

It was beautiful.

All around me, a sea of green grass waved gently in a breeze that did nothing except soothe the senses. Sunlight gave each blade of grass a bright verdant color, which no photographer or artist could ever duplicate. Just gazing at the beauty before me made me feel humbled. I felt like I could cry over seeing this, like I didn’t deserve to even feast my eyes on such beauty. Truly a paradise.

I heard Tenzin rustle the grass as he approached me. “This is a sinless world of beauty and serenity.” His tone was hushed, reverential. “This is where you will learn the true meaning of peace.”

I didn’t say anything. If I had opened my mouth I would have wailed and cried, and I wasn’t sure I could stop. So I merely nodded and thanked him silently. Thoughts of darkness never even entered my mind.

This was the one place where Alastair Crowley would never find me.

***

I always knew that I never wanted to become a priest and training with Tenzin did nothing to change that opinion. If anything, he made me hate the lifestyle completely.

Once you got over the fact that we were training in an artificial universe that could only be described as a nature photographer’s wet dream, it became quite hellish. Time flowed differently in every dimension, but six in the freaking morning was horrible no matter what universe you were in.

We would get up and began our day with a set of exercises. Sort of kinesthetics-meets-yoga in an exercise I liked to call Does-Erik-Bend-This-Way. Then, once I managed to fold myself like an origami paper, the physical regimen would start. I was used to the running, the pushups, the treetop acrobatics and other stuff. Swimming was a new one. Tenzin would make me swim down the length of the river, and I could swear that the sly old bastard would alter the current of the water. Once the water level rose, thanks to my sweating, I was allowed to have a break.

An hour or two later the combat training began. Tenzin looked old but that didn’t mean he couldn’t kick some serious ass. We delved into every style he knew: aikido, karate, kung fu, you name it.

It was horrible. Nothing I knew worked on him. It was like all that training I did as a child served as nothing more than a distraction compared to his skills.

Sometimes, he would tie a blanket or a tarp around a tree trunk and make me punch and kick it.

“The point of this is not to strengthen your body. That can be easily done with a few physical exercises.” Tenzin would pace around gently, letting the breeze direct him, watching my every move. “This is a test of the mind. Focus everything into that strike. Your body and mind have to work as one.”

Gone was the gentle hermit, replaced by a drill sergeant with a powerful, commanding voice.

One day he interrupted the routine and asked me about my magic. I told him about the curse again.

“So, it is limited to just your body, yes?”

“Right,” I said. My breathing was heavy, and I felt like crap. Whatever he wanted to say, it was a godsend. At least now I could catch my breath.

Tenzin’s eyes closed, a sign of deep thought. “Give me your hand.” His fingers curled gently around my palm. “Please focus all your magic on your hand.”

I raised my eyebrows, remembering the pain I felt when I tried using magic after the phoenix incident. It seemed like a million years ago.

But Tenzin’s eyes made me trust him, and so I did. Pain flared from my shoulder all the way to my fingertips. I jerked my hand back and shook in agony.

“What was that supposed to achieve?” I nearly yelled. The pain had driven me to my knees.

Tenzin remained unfazed. “It gave me a reading of your aura.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I shot back, cradling my arm.

“It may be the key to helping you use magic again.”

That piqued my interest. “And what makes you think you know how to reverse this curse?” I asked as I stood.

“I never said I could reverse it,” Tenzin explained. “But you can work with it.”

“How?”

“Well, your healing ability is the key here. Your body automatically drives energy towards the location of an injury. This seems to be an unconscious reflex. But what if you could control it? What if you could channel just a small bit of energy into your fist as you punch, thereby increasing your power?”

“Beats the whole point if I’m rolling in pain,” I replied.

“Pain and energy are related. Control one, and you control the other.”

“You sure this will work?”

Tenzin took a long pause and looked at me from head to toe. I still cradled my arm, shivering as spasms of pain went through me. My clothes were in desperate need of replacing, and I looked like a battered mess.

“Yes, I am sure it will, provided you believe it will work,” Tenzin replied with a slight nod. “And that is not all. Your aura extends from your body by approximately thirty centimeters. I believe that with the proper training, you can use magic as long as it is limited to that area.”

“And can you give me this proper training?”

Tenzin smiled slyly. “You have been doing it all along.”

And thus began the third stage of my training. It went from a physical stage to one that required more brain-power and attention than just your average fight session. Sometimes, we would forgo the use of the tree altogether. Tenzin would make me assume a fighting position and guide me through.

“This is called meditative fighting, also known as shadow boxing,” he said when he first introduced me to this new regime. “Assume the fighting stance. Picture the motion in your head. Feel it, live it. Now, execute the motion and focus all your being into the exact point of impact.”

I spent the first two weeks barely able to move an inch, let alone punch. Tenzin had shown me a kata, a sequence of movements he wanted me to finish.

Day one had me down by the first step.

But, as the weeks passed, I noticed that I managed to complete the sequence, one excruciating inch at a time. The pain became less, until all that was left was a dull throbbing, like a reminder that I was toying with stuff I couldn’t fully understand. Once I could do it without stopping, Tenzin began to join me.

It was fairly basic once you get down to it—position, concentrate, strike, repeat.

Tenzin would do the same thing, except he would mutter something during the concentration part. It wasn’t the ethereal sound I usually heard when someone cast a spell—rather, this sounded like syllables and vowels, something I could emulate if I could get my tongue to roll the right way.

I asked Tenzin about it, once I got used to the sequence.

“It’s not magic,” he replied with a smile. “When magic is used, the language spoken cannot be deciphered by human ears. It is a long-lost language, a language that is not human, but purely natural. Understanding the language and consciously speaking it means that one has complete control over the nature of magic itself. It means that you are magic itself.” He paused for a breath. “No, Erik, my words aren’t magic. This is simply a Buddhist chant.”

“Why?”

“Because the true meaning of that exercise is gratitude,” he said. “Every day, I pray my thanks to Kami-sama in the form of that sequence.”

“Can you teach me?”

“Sure.”

There were a lot of vowels strung together like a monotonous chant, but I never regretted my decision to learn it. It was the perfect distraction from the dull throbbing, and to be honest, I did feel something every time I moved and exhaled a vowel, like a tuning fork resonating perfectly.

It may have taken him a few weeks, but Tenzin never backed down on his promise of helping me find serenity in this place.

***

Two months.

That’s how long we lived in that paradise. Occasionally, we would stroll outside to the real world for errands and such, but really, who would live in such a stinky, noisy world when you could live in paradise without anyone else to bother you?

I mean, once you get over the painful training and never-ending philosophy lessons with an old Asian man, life was pretty sweet.

But all good things come to an end, and this one was going to crash and burn.

Tenzin woke up one morning and sat down to meditate as he usually did. A few minutes later he was by my side.

“Erik, we must leave.” His tone was urgent. “I believe I sense a danger in the city that is harming humans. We must stop it.”

I was still groggy from my sleep. “What are you, a police scanner? What makes you so sure?”

“I have my methods,” he replied. “And I resent the police scanner comment.” He winked at me. “If anything, I would prefer to be called God’s Radar.”

Chapter 34

“This is it?” I said. “This is where your supposed danger is?”

We stood in front of a Victorian house straight out of a portrait. Colorful paint and a big front yard, all surrounded by a black gate. On the left was a flat, one-story house, which I suppose served as a storage room of sorts. The main house looked like something out of a Disney movie. It even had that beige and brown paint, as if the architect’s inspiration came from a picture book. Heck, it even had a pretty clock tower. All that was missing was a sign that said You must be this tall to ride.

Except this was no fun ride. It was the Carson Mansion, a milestone Victorian monument, and never open to the public.

“You want us to find a monster in there?”

Tenzin squinted at the house. “I do not believe that I am mistaken,” he said after a while.

“If we go in there, we’ll get arrested,” I said off-handedly. I always made it a point to stay away from the authorities. I was a rich, privileged kid and a street bum all rolled in one, precisely the two types of people the police hate dealing with.

Besides, with my attitude they’d probably shoot me just to shut me up.

“Why would that be?” Tenzin asked. I suppose in a temple in the mountains with a lifestyle of a priest and a hippie, the concept of private property wasn’t a familiar one.

“It’s private property. That house has never been open to the public. It’s some kinda country club or whatever, only reserved for the rich and famous,” I replied.

“Are you not rich and famous?”

“I’ve lived in a forest and on the streets. What do you think?”

“But your name carries significance.”

“Only to the magical community,” I replied.

“Should we not simply ask to be allowed in, then?” Tenzin asked.

“We’ll be shot on the spot.”

“Why is that?”

“We look homeless.”

“Let us break in, then.”

“If we damage anything, it’s our heads on a platter,” I replied.

“Even if we save the inhabitants from danger?”

“Funny how people think, huh?”

Tenzin shook his head. “Man has always placed too much importance on material objects, often at the expense of irreplaceable things.” He began walking away from Carson Mansion, slowly moving along the sidewalk.

I stayed by his side.

“The monster I sense here reflects that greed,” he continued. “A yokai spirit is born out of greed and lust for power. It takes the shape of a heart-broken woman, usually wearing white and surrounded by small licks of blue flames. These are the souls of her victims. In life, her soul died because of greed and misery. In death, she seeks to satisfy her hunger by consuming the souls of others. But once she eats too much, the blue fires will incinerate and destroy her.”

“Then, why are we hunting her?” I asked. “Let’s just wait until she burns up.”

Tenzin’s stern expression appeared again. “She will kill again and again, Erik, until she reaches her limit. That may be a hundred victims from now. Are you willing to wait until a hundred people die?”

I shook my head. If there was ever a Nobel Prize for guilt-tripping people, Tenzin would bring home the gold.

“Fine,” I said. “How does she attack?”

“She simply appears. Which is why we must keep vigil over the house.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

He pointed at a coffee shop. “We eat first. Maintain our strength. Tonight, we observe the place for any activity.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Why couldn’t you have just said ‘stakeout’?”

Tenzin’s bushy, gray eyebrows shot in the air. “Because I do not know how to pronounce that.”

It was late in the afternoon when we went into that coffee shop. Tenzin had pulled out a small bag of money and actually paid for a meal—something I’d never seen him do. “I need all my focus on the house,” he explained when he noticed my look. I didn’t question it, partly because I wouldn’t understand half of it.

Also, because my burger and fries appeared on my table and I was too busy cramming a day’s worth of calories down my throat. Any meal where a fluffy ghost bunny wasn’t sniffing at my food was aces in my book.

About three hours later, Tenzin and I were lurking behind a house opposite Carson Mansion.

“So, what are we waiting for?” I whispered for no reason at all. The area was illuminated, and people occasionally walked by without so much as a glance.

“Anything out of order.” He leaned against a wall and closed his eyes. “I shall be able to feel it.”

That was the beginning of two hours of wasted time. I paced around, shuffled my feet and cracked my knuckles, neck, and every part of my body that ached or itched. Tenzin would occasionally crack an eye open, smirk, and close it again. After two hours of fidgeting I had just about had it with all the waiting and the silence. The sun was setting gently, and in an hour or so it would be nighttime. And I did not want to spend an entire night waiting for some ghost to pop up.

I turned to Tenzin to ask him something when he jerked upright, instantly pushing himself off the wall.

“What?” I asked.

He held his hand up, silencing me. His eyes snapped open. “It’s in the house.”

We ran all the way to the Mansion, vaulting over the gate. Something about the stillness of the place bugged me, but I chalked it up to supernatural vibes. I mean, there was a soul-sucking lady ghost inside Carson House—if that didn’t set off your Spidey-Sense, I don’t know what did.

No alarms went off, no beefy guys stepped out to throw us out, and no rich people sent their grunts to gun us down.

Nothing, not even a spotlight.

We broke the door down, and it looked like a bull had been set loose inside. Furniture, chandeliers, papers—everything was intricate and beautiful.

Everything was also upturned and smashed to bits.

My stomach sank. Every little thing inside this house must have at least a five-figure price tag. If we were caught, I’d have to sell a kidney and an eyeball just to cover the cost of the damage in the kitchen alone.

A scream erupted from outside, and we raced towards the stairs. Overlooking the entire city was a balcony, giving me a bird’s eye view. I followed the direction of the sound. From a large window I got a glimpse of a minor horror show.

On top of the roof of the storage room was an elderly man, well into his sixties, and dressed in a tux. He was running and stumbled on something, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Behind him, trailing ominously like the ghost she was, the yokai followed. Three little blue flames hung around her, like floatation devices. Catching a glimpse of her, the old man screamed hysterically and crawled away.

I unwrapped Djinn from its blanket and prepared to break the window with the butt of the weapon. It wasn’t like a broken window would matter much after the disaster all around us.

Tenzin held me back.

“Allow me.” He placed his fingertips on the glass pane and suddenly jerked his body like a whip. His palm cracked against the glass, shattering everything including the frame, into tiny fragments.

“A derivation of the One-Inch Punch,” he explained.

“You gotta teach me that someday,” I remarked, impressed.

There were no shards to rip at my skin or clothes, so I just jumped out. It wasn’t the longest jump I’d ever made, and I landed with a thud and rolled behind the yokai. She didn’t seem to notice me.

Tenzin leapt down as light as a feather. He didn’t roll. He didn’t even flail his hands. He should have broken something, but instead he strode calmly next to me. I heard the murmur of a familiar chant. A blazing white stallion reared on two legs and whinnied loudly enough to wake up the entire state of California.

The horse deva galloped towards the ghost, snorting billows of luminescent clouds. The yokai froze in place and let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a blender and a scream. I

t didn’t matter—the stallion maintained its momentum.

Seconds before the impact, the yokai disappeared, leaving the stallion to falter and snort at the empty spot. It disappeared in a puff of brilliant little sparkles.

“You got her, right?” I asked Tenzin.

He fixated the spot the yokai had occupied seconds earlier. “No,” he said quietly. “She got away.”

Suddenly, a dull, raw crack rang out from the direction the man had run, echoing through the still night. We spun instantly.

The old man lay face up. Behind him, cradling his clearly broken neck was a small, thick creature with brown, leathery skin and bloodshot eyes. A hand with three thick fingers and an opposable thumb was wrapped tightly around the old guy’s neck.

“My, oh, my.” Holding the man’s hand was another man wearing a fedora and a pinstriped suit.

“You’re not even worth the effort,” he said, disgusted, as he roughly let go of the hand. A wailing shattered the night behind him, and he reached out with a gloved hand, never taking his eyes off us.

The yokai ghost clawed at his arm as he held her by the neck. He hissed and moaned, clearly enjoying the experience. The yokai stopped struggling as the blue flames disappeared, and the ghost soon faded away into nothing.

“Why do they always insist on feeding on these sad, old men? Whatever happened to folks in their prime? So much better,” the  man said in mock exasperation.

He took one step towards us and took off his fedora. Jet-black hair, slicked back and oily, matched his gray-blue skin.

“But where are my manners?” He placed his hat on his chest and bowed. “Alastair Crowley at your service.”

A shiver ran down my spine, and I felt the weight of the world settling on my shoulders. I remained frozen on the spot, too scared to even twitch.

“And if it ain’t the little Warlock boy I’ve been scouring the land for,” Crowley said with a disturbing grin. “How are you doin’, Erik?”

Chapter 35

Djinn quivered in my hand. That was all I could do—shake uncontrollably before Crowley.

“And, look,” Crowley said as he put his hat back on. “You got yourself a hobo friend.”

Tenzin positioned himself forwards, partly shielding me from Crowley.

“My name is Tenzin,” he said calmly. “Am I to assume that this is some form of ruse?”

“Right you’d be,” Crowley replied jovially. “But, where are my manners?” He clapped his hands once.

At the sound of the sharp noise the small creature sprung as fast and sudden as lightning towards Tenzin. It snarled, exposing bloodstained fangs. Its fist connected squarely with Tenzin’s ear. I’d never seen the man take a hit before; the best I ever did was deflecting one of his strikes. Yet, this little three-foot leathery monster sent him reeling a few steps backwards. It didn’t stop there.

The creature skittered past me, too fast for me to react, and swiped at Tenzin’s legs. Even stunned as I was, my eyes still worked. This funny-looking bizarre creature was clearly a hunter—no quarter was given, no movement wasted. Only predatory movements.

But then again, it was up against Tenzin. The first punch might have gotten him, but he skipped over the creature’s second, lower swipe and lashed out with a kick of his own. Its head snapped backwards. Tenzin kept his assault with another kick and the creature retaliated, swinging blindly. Tenzin twisted, avoiding the strike, grabbed its hand and placed his other hand at the back of its head. An instant later, his body faced the other direction and the creature flipped over him, its head being driven into the hard stone. A sickening crack filled the air, followed by a sharp yelp. The creature crawled away slowly, like a wounded animal. Tenzin stomped on its chest, eliciting another yelp.

“Ah, you must be one of those kung-fu monks,” Crowley said with enthusiasm. “Yeah, yeah, I remember you guys. Kick-ass exorcists. Y’all live in the Iga Mountains or something.”

Tenzin’s expression darkened and, for a millisecond, a vein in his neck twitched.

“But whatever, you ain’t faster than a bullet,” Crowley spat. He extracted a chunky revolver from his coat and pulled the trigger. A small bead of light rocketed toward Tenzin.

“Watch out,” I heard myself yelling, but it was too late.

Tenzin was already crouching, bending forwards from the shot. Horror washed over me.

“Tenzin!”

But he stood up and held his fist out. “It seems that I am faster than a bullet. Thank you for the opportunity to test my reaction speed to its limit.” He opened his palm, and there it was, a silver bullet with intricate grooves and ridges. The bullet was large, far bigger than those magnum calibers. “If you wish to kill me, you will have to do much better.”

Crowley smirked. “I already have.”

The bullet sprung to life and wrapped around Tenzin’s wrist and forearm. It became a weasel, its body constructed from the same material as the bullet. It sunk its scythe-like teeth into his wrist while the rest of its long body curled tightly around his arm, claws drawing blood.

“A kamaitachi?” Tenzin sounded more amused than surprised. Blue lightning spiraled around the little weasel. The creature screamed and relinquished its grip. It disappeared in a puff of smoke before it hit the ground.

Crowley made a face. “Those Kanko weasels were a pain to catch. Had them modified and everything.” He popped the chamber open and extracted an empty cartridge case the size of a double-A battery. “The critter shoots out and bites off a piece of your aura. And here’s the kicker—it gets stored in here,” he said, shaking the empty bullet case.

He put it to his lips and sucked.

“Ah, that’s divine. See what I did there?” He slipped the cartridge into his coat pocket. “I’ll save the rest for later.” He snapped the chamber back in place and pointed the gun at Tenzin.

“Due to special modifications, this puppy can only hold three bullets,” Crowley said as he waved the gun at Tenzin. “That means I got two more to spare. Who’s feelin’ lucky?”

Tenzin stepped forwards, light slowly encasing his body. “I shall protect us with the will of God,” he said, his voice deep and powerful.

Crowley remained unfazed. “Will of God?” he said mockingly. “Well damn, I better step up my game.” He clapped his hands twice and hollered, “Oh, boys!”

All hell broke loose.

The wall behind me exploded.

Which was pretty impressive, considering that behind me was Carson freaking Mansion.

It barreled through one of the conical Disney Princess Towers. And by it, I mean a ten-foot tall gorilla with short brown spiky fur all over its body. Its head looked human enough, if you ignored the spiky hair, beady black eyes and jagged teeth. It moved on all fours past me and I caught a glimpse of something long trailing behind it. It stopped abruptly, almost unnatural for something with that much momentum, and I felt a sharp needle of pain in my right collarbone. A snake, brown as wet mud, was biting my shoulder, its fangs buried deep inside me.

I couldn’t move my body. I mean, I wasn’t paralyzed from fear anymore—I just couldn’t move my limbs and was having trouble getting my lungs to breathe. Less than a second later the snake retreated, and the gorilla dug its hand right into my chest.

I nearly blacked out. I lost all power, magical or physical. Djinn hung loosely by my side, my index finger still curled inside the ring in its cross guard. I focused all of my waning energy into not shutting down completely.

At the same time, two other leathery midgets sprung from nowhere and rocketed towards Tenzin. The wounded one seemed to have recuperated and joined the fray. The pair slammed into him, pinning him face down on the ground by the arms. The third one dove on top of him and wrapped an arm around his neck, not fully choking him, but making breathing something of a chore.

Crowley whooped in the air, like an overgrown frat boy, still waving the oversized revolver. “Haha. Now, that was cool.”

Tenzin struggled against the creatures but they held fast. They may have been shorter but each of them looked like it weighed about a couple hundred pounds.

“Swamp goblins,” Crowley said conversationally. “Only goblins capable of surviving in this humid dump. Regular ones just shrivel up and it is nearly impossible to get a hold of a mountain specimen. These guys usually hunt marine creatures, silent as can be. Damn good swimmers, too, what with the webbed hands and all.”

As if to demonstrate, the goblin with its arm around Tenzin’s neck outstretched its palm. Its four stubby fingers had a thin filament between them. Aquatic evolution and full finger dexterity—nature sure can be a bitch sometimes. The goblin pressed its hand into a fist, a clear sign to stop resisting or get hurt. Tenzin stopped his struggling and that seemed to please the goblin.

“And this guy,” Crowley continued looking at me and the monsters holding me down. “This guy is what you might call a nue. Rare creatures they are, and almost impossible to manage.” He patted the enormous gorilla beast lightly on the forearm, and the nue let out a series of clicks and groans from its throat.

“This one took a little coaxing, but he was worth it. That snake tail serves as a surprise counter attack, and once they get running, nothin’ can stop them. Poison claws, poison fangs, and poison snake—this guy’s perfect to stop someone with your powers, Erik. And they never make a sound. Ain’t predators awesome?”

The nue made its noise again. I would have told Crowley to go blow himself but I was too busy trying not to die. As long as that overgrown gorilla kept pumping venom in me, I’d never be able to move. Crowley might be a creep, but he was a good hunter: a smart one and those were the worst kind.

Trust me, I grew up with one.

“Why?” I have no idea how I managed it. A smart person would have conserved his energy.

But I’m not a smart person. I’m a curious one.

Crowley appeared to be very happy with my question and did a little dance.

“Why?” he repeated. “Tell me, Erik, have you figured out what it is, exactly, that I do? Or what I am? Or why I look like this?”

I didn’t answer for reasons I already explained.

Giant monkey. Stabbing. Poison. Erik dying.

“I ain’t no vampire if that’s what you’re thinking. Nah, I’m human, just like you.” He paused for effect, and when I didn’t get it, he kept talking. “I’m a Specialist, and my magic is Abjuration. It’s that class of magic that amplifies energy, playing around with it like a musician. We take stuff that’s already there and make it better. Yeah, not that impressive, I know. We’re like some damn Japanese corporation.”

He spun and spread his hands, like a stage magician preparing for his final trick.

“But,” he hollered with glee, “the true essence of Abjuration is the pure, core energy. This is too abstract for most wizards to grasp, which is why we don’t get a lot of customers. But I have figured something out. What if I could reverse the process? Instead of hitting the amplify button, what if I were to press mute?”

Reverse amplification? That would mean…

“You seem to have figured it out, by the look on your face,” Crowley said. “I decay magic. If I see it, it’s dead meat. No energy, no juice. No juice, no spell, and all you’re left with is some dumbass who thinks he’s better than you ’cos he’s a Pyromancer or somethin’.” He licked his lips.

“Why, you ask? Because I get off on it. I get this tingly feeling in my naughty parts when I feel all that powerful magic just… die.” He laughed manically and shivered.

Tenzin let out a string of heartfelt laughter.

“The hell you laughin’ at?” Crowley said. “Did you snap or something?”

“No, no,” Tenzin said in between laughs. “It’s just, ever since Erik told me about you I’ve been very concerned. Now I understand you, Mr. Crowley, and that will be your downfall.”

“My downfall? You’re being humped by my goblins and I’m losing?”

“Yes,” Tenzin replied. “Like most men, you talk a lot, but you never pause to listen. I have listened. Here is what I have discovered.”

Light erupted from Tenzin like a flash bang grenade, and a small monkey made out of an ethereal, translucent material flipped twice in midair before spinning and diving right through Tenzin. A goblin tried to grab it but his hand just passed through.

The earth shook violently, and vines, each thicker than my entire body, emerged from all around us. Trees and vines grew from between the concrete of Carson Mansion, each wrapping around the weird towers. The ground beneath us leveled. A particularly vicious root smacked against the nue and whipped into me. I went airborne for a second before slamming against a tree stump. The vine wrapped around the nue. It tore the vine off, but others encased the monster, tightening around its neck and torso like a constrictor. The nue’s movements slowed down, and soon, sluggish became still. I found that I could move slightly again, with the poison-pumping claws now out of me. It was still painful, and I wasn’t in any shape to run or fight.

Crowley seemed to be the only one to have it under control.

“Hold him steady,” he roared at the goblins. They screamed but held Tenzin fast.

“I grew up in Vegas,” Crowley said as he grabbed a vine. “I know a bluff when I see one.”

The raging foliage ceased growing and Carson Mansion looked like something out of Jumanji. The vines began to recede and wither away as Crowley focused his magic, and soon the entire mass of vegetation disappeared.

“It was no bluff, Mr. Crowley,” Tenzin said. “You may be able to make yourself invulnerable to magic, but the same cannot be said for your surroundings.”

Crowley figured it out and let go of the vine as if it were plague-infested.

Behind Tenzin, a flash of light became a bovine with a pair of horns. It snorted and charged, once again disappearing into the Asian man. Tenzin’s bones cracked and I saw his muscles bulging—no, growing. His body grew bigger and thicker, going from frail old man to Schwarzenegger.

“Thank you for weakening the foundations for me,” Tenzin said with glee.

Completely ignoring the goblins latched onto him, the steroid-infused version of Tenzin stood, one leg at a time, muscles bulging and veins popping. He yelled and fell forwards, slammed both fists into the ground. A loud blast rang out like a hundred cannons going off at once, and I felt the vibrations punch into my gut like that feeling you get when a jet breaks the sound barrier.

Then, there was silence.

Exactly one second later, Carson Mansion, as well as the surrounding buildings, came crashing down.

Chapter 36

Now

“You’re responsible for Carson Mansion falling down like a house of cards?” Amaymon’s feline eyes held mischief in them. “Man, I got new respect for you.”

“I would be more concerned about Erik and his mentor being buried under a house,” Sun Tzu said.

Amaymon made a mewing noise. “Who gives a damn about him? Look at him, ain’t nothin’ gonna break that ugly mug. I’m just glad that ugly piece of shit went down like the London Bridge in the good old days.”

Sun Tzu and I glared at him, giving him the usual “what-the-heck-is-wrong-with-you-you-twisted-cat?” look. Amaymon shrugged and flicked his tail.

“What? It was tacky.”

“They rebuilt it,” I said. “Almost instantly. Now, it’s even tackier.”

“Just goes to show,” replied the cat. “People are idiots.”

Sun Tzu cleared his throat loudly. “May we get back to the subject at hand?” He looked at me directly. “How did you survive this particular ordeal?”

***

Approximately 8 years ago

I did not black out. I expected to black out when a house like a Disney castle fell down on me.

No, I did not black out. I felt debris cover every inch of my body. Pain didn’t register in individual bits. It was more like a wave, as if a ton of bricks had been dropped on me.

Well, a ton of bricks did just drop on me, so I suppose I knew what I was talking about.

The dust settled quickly. I could move, slowly and painfully. But I could move.

I guess I was lucky—that, and the healing magic.

My clothes had some rips in them, and a boulder with a jagged edge had blood splattered all over it. My leg was trapped under rubble. I wedged Djinn between flesh and rock, and levered. My broken, swollen leg was already healing.

Around me was a massacre of debris and colorful plaster. Crowley and his goblins were completely buried. The nue’s ugly face was beneath a plank. The monster was unconscious, but still breathing raggedly. Occasionally a finger on its hand—the only thing not buried from sight—would twitch. I could have killed it right then and there, but something, a benevolent voice in my head, told me to forget about it.

Tenzin was rubbing off on me.

I went to where I saw him last and began hauling stones away. There was no way a person could have survived that, but Tenzin had a knack for surprises. The old man was resilient. He was alive, I knew it.

He had to be.

I found him lying face up with one hand across his chest and the other on his stomach. His eyes were closed, and there was no sign of breathing.

“Tenzin.” I went to shake him awake. As soon as my hand reached him, his body enveloped in light, which dimmed just enough for me to make out a long serpentine shape.

The snake had Tenzin wrapped inside it, like a cocoon. It reared up, exposing a long, thick neck, twice my height and as wide as my shoulders. It had a segmented underbelly, each emitting a slightly different hue. Its head was hooded, like a cobra’s, with Ba Gua elemental markings on each side—three horizontal lines, either long or divided, placed on top of each other like a box. It had of two of these symbols on each side, blazing gold, the same color as its eyes.

The snake deva, which is what I assumed it was, opened its mouth, revealing a pair of very long fangs and a forked tongue. It brought its head down suddenly.

My instincts kicked in, and Djinn was already swiping at the snake’s throat. The blade passed through, although it did leave a thin blue line across the brilliant white scales. The serpent flicked its tongue over me once before rearing back again. It wrapped around Tenzin, creating a spiral light show.

And just like that, it disappeared.

Tenzin opened his eyes and sat up.

“Erik,” he said with a glint of happiness in his eyes. “I knew you would survive, my friend.”

“I wasn’t so sure,” I replied as I helped him up. Tenzin looked fine. More than fine, he looked better than usual.

“What was that thing?” I asked.

“I’m afraid you will have to be more specific.”

“Snake thing. That a deva, too?”

“As a matter of fact, it is,” Tenzin replied. “It serves the purpose of healing and protection.”

“How many of those things do you have?”

“Oh, there are about twelve. But the word ‘deva’ means ‘representation’. Each of the devas is an aspect of Kami-sama, like an avatar, if you will.”

“So, in essence, you got twelve mini-gods you can call up at any time?”

“Broadly speaking, yes,” Tenzin replied.

I made a mental note to never piss the man off again.

“You son of a bitch.” Crowley rose like a ghoul from the rubble. One of the swamp goblins threw away a boulder and helped another goblin limp forward.

“You ruined my favorite suit,” Crowley continued as he held up a torn sleeve.

“Mr. Crowley,” Tenzin said as he assumed a fighting stance. “You are just like a cockroach. It seems I will need something on a nuclear scale to get rid of you.” His aura flared into a supernova of painfully bright light, before transforming.

Fire surrounded him and a tiger’s roar echoed.

The flames coalesced together, and a large tiger, the size of a young elephant, crouched in front of Tenzin.

Crowley’s eyes widened. The goblins bumped into each other in their panic. The tiger leapt over them and exploded into a wave of fire. Soon, the area they occupied was a blazing inferno. Fire rose like a tsunami, and the ground boiled. All the oxygen was sucked away from us. The heat scorched my skin. A pair of steady hands clenched my arm and pulled me away from the fire. Tenzin pushed me behind a corner, two blocks down. I snuck a peak. The entire Carson Mansion area was one giant bonfire.

But not even a blazing inferno was enough to get rid of Crowley. He stood in the middle of the pyre with his arms outstretched and a malignant grin on his lips. His gloves shriveled up into ashen dust, but his creepy, gray-blue hands were intact. Next to him, the goblins screamed and ran as they were burned alive. Their rubbery hides seemed to melt, and once the flames died down, all that was left were two piles of cooked goo and a whole lot of stink. I could smell the third goblin, this one long dead under the rubble, as well. Worst of all, I heard the nue scream—the fires must have woken up the beast. It let out a sound that was a lot like sonar, if sonar had a roar mixed into it. The serpent tail reared up like a telescope and hissed at the empty air.

“Kill them!” Crowley screamed. He pulled out the chunky revolver and shot two of the goblin corpses. The shriveled husks swirled with a dull burst of light and reared up, moving like broken marionettes.

“Oh no,” Tenzin whispered. “The kamaitachi act like puppeteers controlling their host body until nothing is left.”

The nue slammed its knuckles on the ground and prepared to charge in our direction.

“I know of a ritual to dissipate the kamaitachi,” Tenzin said. “But I cannot do it with that nue around.”

“Can you do it with just Crowley around?” I asked.

“Yes. He is too weak to cause me any trouble at this point,” Tenzin replied.

I understood what he was trying to say. He was relying on me to take down the nue, but he couldn’t ask me to do it. It just wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t mean anything.

I squeezed Djinn’s handle. “I’ll do it.”

Tenzin looked up.

“I’ll distract the nue,” I repeated. Tenzin placed his hand on my forehead and muttered a few words of prayer in his native language.

“For good luck,” he said.

Everything, even a ten-foot tall gorilla monster coming at you at a hundred miles per hour, halts suddenly when something jumps in front of it.

A streak of azure energy crashed against its forward arm. The nue tipped forwards, crashing painfully on its elbows. A second streak shot forwards and I ran off after it, using the light as cover. Hyped up with adrenaline, I remembered a meme I once heard my sister say.

“Monkey see, monkey do.” The nue raised its arm against the streak of energy. Djinn’s magic had absolutely no effect against the monster’s thick hide.

But I had it right where I wanted it.

“Monkey has low IQ.”

Still blind from the second energy streak, the nue held its arm raised and its eyes closed—which meant it couldn’t see the awesome Jackie Chan stunt I pulled.

Using the momentum of my run, I jumped and brought my knees to my chest. I twisted sideways, my feet at its face. With a yell, I snapped both my heels against its big, wet nose. It may have been impervious to energy waves but nothing can walk away from a dropkick to the face.

The nue’s head snapped backwards and we both skidded on the hard ground. As soon as I got the feeling back in my legs, I got up. The nue, with its giant bulk, was having a tougher time. Only its tail sprung up, hissing violently.

“Hey!” I yelled at it. The monkey reared its ugly head and shifted sideways, trying to get a stable footing. “You’re one ugly-ass monkey.”

It roared back.

“What? I thought you were a hunter. So, what’s up? You’re just gonna lie there like a little bitch?” I yelled.

The nue got on all fours and reared up on its hind legs. Its shadow loomed over me. It was well over twenty feet in length and its roar shattered glass.

Oh, shit. You’ve done it again, Erik. Pissed off the big bad monster just a little too much.

I spun on my heels and bolted—away from Crowley, away from Tenzin, and away from the possessed goblins. I didn’t have to check if the nue was still behind me. The earthshaking slam of its knuckles against asphalt was indication enough.

Chapter 37

You never really know how fast you can run until you have a literal monster chasing after you.

I knew I was fast: life in the forest does wonders for your stamina and muscle build-up. But I was still only human, strictly speaking. The human body wasn’t designed for speed.

A four-legged gorilla the size of a bus, was a different story altogether.

I wove in and out of narrow corners, using my smaller frame to my advantage. The nue couldn’t stop and swerve that fast. It kept crashing against walls, sometimes with enough force to leave cracks and dents.

I skidded into an alleyway. My shoulder hit a dumpster. Pain flared, and I stumbled forwards, trying not to stop. The nue wedged its head in the opening but the dumpster smashed against its neck. The dumpster pushed against the wall and wedged firmly against the nue. The monster roared and raked with its arm, trying to grab onto something. I kept running, but I couldn’t help smiling at the stuck monster.

As soon as I cleared the block, I heard the loud screaming of metal being torn and the clicks coming from the nue. It was dark by now and its eyes were not built for night vision, that much I knew. So, there was no way it could track me down. The sea breeze would obscure its sense of smell long enough to buy me a few precious minutes.

The nue reared and faced a wall. It swiped a claw at the concrete, digging its entire paw in, then heaved, launching itself upwards along the building and swiping again. Its claws dug into the wall, eluding gravity. Another heave sent it flying onto the roof. It hung onto a pole stuck into the edge of the roof, clinging to it like King Kong on the Empire State Building. Again, it let out those strange clicks from its throat. The snake tail, its eyes reflecting with eye-shine, swiveled from side to side until it leveled its eyes on me.

More clicks.

That sound was familiar, like sonar, the sound dolphins made. My mind was taken back to the old pre-magic days when my sister would switch the channel from Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers to the Discovery Channel. I remembered watching a documentary about how bats hunt even in complete darkness by sending out sound pulses. Dolphins did that, too.

Echolocation, that’s what the Australian guy called it.

I cursed my naiveté. The nue didn’t need light to see me, it could detect me by using sound. That snake could probably perceive body heat or taste air currents, or whatever. This truly was the perfect hunter, smart and well equipped.

The nue’s beady eyes zeroed in on me, and it sprang into a four-legged sprint along the rooftops towards me. I ran as fast as I could, trying to avoid sneaking a peak at the monster charging after me. The alleyway gave way to a mostly empty parking lot. My legs carried me into the open area, and before I could turn sideways into another alley the nue soared over me and landed in front of me, blocking my path. It roared gently, as if to express satisfaction.

Or smugness. I knew I would feel smug if I had cornered my prey the way the nue did me.

It shoved a suburban van out of the way as if it weighed as much as a toy version of itself. A show of force: I’m stronger than you, puny human. Don’t screw with me. That’s what it was saying.

That’s what I would have said.

But here’s one thing I had in my favor: surprise. No predator would expect his prey to bite back. They think themselves too powerful.

So, instead of running in circles in a panic or staying put with my knees shaking, I pushed all of my magic into Djinn and slashed at the nue. Before my training with Tenzin, it would have taken me at least a full minute to charge up Djinn. Now, I could do it in less than three seconds. The streak of blue energy shot at the nue, catching it squarely in the face. The monster roared and violently shook its head.

There wasn’t even a scratch.

It charged at me, and I rolled out of the way at the last second. I had deftness and speed on my side. I tried shooting energy at it again, but even my most powerful strikes had no effect on it—that hide was too thick.

The nue closed the distance between us. It was smart enough to try and box me in. I swerved sideways, hoping to catch its flank, when I felt a sharp pain in my left side. The snake tail had lodged its teeth right above my kidney. The momentum of my movement carried me onwards, even as my body began slowing down. The snake’s fangs were torn off and venom stopped being injected into me. I reached behind, felt the edges of the fangs, and pulled them out.

But that cost me.

The gorilla swung its hand, catching my side. My right arm, ribs and hip bone broke on impact, and I went flying to my left.

Right into its other hand.

It wrapped its thick fingers like a vice around me and squeezed. More bones broke. I would have screamed, but I felt a cold, sharp pain in my chest as a rib punctured a lung.

There was no breathing.

It was just cold and dark. My body didn’t even have the time to react or register the life-threatening injuries I’d incurred. The nue slammed me down on the hard asphalt and began pounding its fists down on my back, raining savage blows. My spine broke, and at some point, my skull caved in. My body completely shut down, effectively dead.

Except I wasn’t exactly normal, even by magical standards. My healing magic was truly an awesome power.

The nue soon got tired of bludgeoning me senseless. Before it could take the first step away, my body was already healing. I was in such a bad state that I actually felt the magic take effect.

I felt the red desert on my skin, the mangrove roots wrapping around me.

I felt the power—that never-ending ocean of potential.

My vital functions came back online in less than two seconds, and before the count of ten, I had already formulated a counter attack. I guess one of my powers was clarity of mind, because I knew exactly what to look for.

I noticed a bulge in the snake’s throat. I remembered watching snakes feed in the forest and how they swallowed their meals whole, expanding from the inside. Every instinct told me that there, inside that serpent’s throat, was the key to victory.

Djinn lay by my side. It must have flown from my grip when the nue used me to practice its drumming. Shadows covered my skin like fog. All of the darkness converged on my right hand and elongated like the faintest of ropes. It snaked until it reached the short sword. I could feel the connection to the channel. I pushed magic into it, and the weapon glowed azure. I gave it a command, because I was its master, and even separated from me, I had dominion over it.

Spin, I ordered.

The weapon rotated, spinning like a buzz saw, emitting a faint, high-pitched whistle. The nue’s enhanced hearing picked up the sound a second too late. I flicked my right index finger and Djinn shot towards the snake tail. The blue blade sliced beneath the bulge, shredding scales, skin, muscle and bone as easily as a hot knife through butter. The severed head rolled on the ground in a bloody mess, and something solid and heavy fell near it. The nue roared in pain and reared up on its hind legs.

Suddenly, my body was moving on its own. With a flick of my wrist, Djinn shot back into my hand, and its blade elongated. The tip brushed against the asphalt and left deep groves. I saw every square centimeter on which I had to step, and my movements were a blur. In a heartbeat, I was under the roaring nue. I saw my first target, a gap in its muscle mass where the right kidney should be. I brought the sword down and tore through the nue’s side. Blood showered me and the beast arched its back in pain. I saw my second target, a ridge between its abdominal muscles where the flesh was soft, making it easy to disembowel the monster. I swiped Djinn horizontally, and the magic sword left a wide wound. The beast’s intestines spilled, stomach acids cascading in front of me. It bent forwards instinctively and then to the side, trying not to expose the torn kidney. But that was where I wanted it to be. My third target was behind its hind foot. I slashed at its Achilles tendon and the nue tipped sideways. Blood splattered like a malfunctioning water fountain and the beast thrashed in agony. I kicked its arm out of the way and brought Djinn down on its throat with as much strength as I could muster. I kept hacking at its neck, yelling like a berserker, until I sliced through its wind-pipe and severed the spine.

The gorilla’s head rolled as well.

I stepped on the body, soaking my leg in blood, and raised Djinn. I let loose all the pent-up fear in one go and screamed into the night as Djinn’s blade bathed the parking lot in bright azure light.

I screamed until my throat burned, my lungs were devoid of air, and Djinn’s light faded. I took a moment to regain my composure and stepped away from the dead nue. As I walked away, my foot hit a large stone—the same stone that fell from the snake tail’s neck.

I kicked it gently towards the light. It looked like an unpolished gemstone of a bronze color. I picked it up, curious to see what it was. As I wrapped my fingers around it, my body shook violently, and it was as if my soul were being torn out of me. The red desert flashed in my mind like a bolt of lightning. The darkness that surrounding me, dissipated, and I dropped Djinn. I couldn’t breathe and felt a familiar throbbing—the same way I felt when I tried to use magic the old-fashioned way.

I looked at the stone in my palm and shivered. The aura coming from it was faint, but I could still detect it.

Crowley.

He must have found a way to transfer a portion of his magic into the stone. The damn thing would continue to dispel my magic and my body will keep trying to heal by pouring even more magic into itself.

And that meant a boatload of pain for Erik.

I picked up Djinn, trying my best to ignore the pain, and wedged it between my flesh and the stone. I leveraged, and felt the stone tearing from my palm as I flicked it high into the air.

As the stone fell, I swung the sword like a baseball bat and caught it with the edge of the blade. The stone cracked, destroyed, and the fragments sailed over the pier and into the ocean.

I heard the sound of panting behind me and spun. Tenzin emerged from between the buildings and into the parking lot. He rested against a lamp-post. The snake deva wrapped around him again and the priest seemed to be healing, albeit at a slow pace. His robe was torn on the left side, and his white clothes were stained with blood and dirt.

“You okay?” I asked as I went over to him.

He rubbed his chest. “I’m afraid I bit more than I could chew. But the kamaitachi are destroyed and Crowley has retreated.”

My nostrils flared wide. “What do you mean ‘retreated’?”

Tenzin offered me a reproachful look. “He is a slippery one, Erik. I had a choice to make—give chase and risk further injury or even death, or retreat and live to fight another day. Have you never heard of the Chinese General Sun Tzu? A warrior needs to understand when to advance and retreat,” he explained.

I wrapped his arm around me and helped him up. The snake deva reared its head and wrapped around my shoulder too. Its incandescent scales were not as bright as before, making it comfortable for the eyes.

“The warehouse,” Tenzin said. “I must get back to the pocket dimension. My powers are stronger there.”

The warehouse wasn’t too far. True, I had to partially carry Tenzin, but I was still pumped up from my battle. As soon as we got in, Tenzin went straight to the entrance symbols spray-painted on the wall. The snake deva disappeared as the symbols glowed. A few seconds later we were back in our little paradise, completely safe. This universe belonged to Tenzin, and only people who he allowed could get in. Meaning that even if Crowley followed us here and took the wall apart, all he’d have would be a sour taste and a pile of bricks.

I saw Tenzin’s wounds begin to heal as he sat cross-legged on the grass and let out a sigh of relief. Tenzin would go back to being his charming self, I’ll complain a lot, and the world would make sense again.

And then, I heard it, a snicker. The snicker of a man who had played us. The snicker of a man who knew he’d already won.

The snicker of a man with gray-blue skin, a tattered suit, and a maniacal grin.

Chapter 38

“Well, well.”

Crowley walked across the grass, crushing it mercilessly beneath his expensive shoes. He looked like a ghoul with his gray-blue skin, covered in tattered clothes whipping in the gentle breeze. He had lost his hat and his hair was singed at the ends. But he retained the greasy look and cheesy smile.

“Nice little slice of paradise you got here.”

You know that sinking feeling you get when someone has been in your house and messed stuff up? Like, their very presence was enough to forever taint the purity of your inner-most sanctum?

I felt violated as I watched Crowley’s ugly face grin like the bastard he was.

If Tenzin felt the same, he didn’t show it. The man had the same serene composure he’d always assumed in tense situations.

Crowley extracted a large bullet casing from his trouser pocket and threw it casually over his shoulder. “Just in case y’all were wondering,” he said smugly, “it was the little weasel that opened up your hidey hole.”

“You used the energy you stole from me to open the portal,” Tenzin said calmly.

“And Bingo was his name-o,” Crowley replied. “Only question now is, what do I do.”

“Erik.” Tenzin had his hand on my shoulder. “Please step back. This is my fight.”

“But I-”

“No arguments, please. I have the advantage here,” he insisted. Tenzin had that twinkle in his eyes that reassured me that he was confident.

And this was one man who was rarely wrong.

I backed away, far enough to see everything and not be caught in any explosions—and still close enough to strike. Djinn’s energy spells provided good long-distance support if needed, and if Tenzin was in danger I’d step in no matter what he said.

When Crowley saw me retreat, he grasped the situation.

“Wait, wait, so lemme get this straight,” he sneered at Tenzin who stood rooted in front of him. “I got no more weapons up my sleeve. Hell, I ain’t even got a sleeve no more.” He tore off the remnants of his silk shirt. “Just plain old me left. But you ain’t got much either. Your powers don’t work on me, old man, and all the kung-fu fightin’ in the world ain’t gonna be enough to bring me down. So, what the hell kinda advantage you think you got? Face it, buddy, we’re at what they call an impasse.”

It was Tenzin’s turn to chuckle. He removed his jacket, letting it curl around his backside. Half of it was torn anyway. I heard the popping of bones as he flexed his muscles. Veins throbbed around his thin arms. His aged body rippled as it revealed the remnant of a once-ripped physique. But despite his age and apparent frailty, Tenzin went from old man to grandpa-on-steroids. At first, I thought it was the bull deva at work again, but I didn’t sense any energy from Tenzin.

This was no magic—this was just pure physical badassery. Scar tissue gleamed under the sun as its rays reflected from his back, shoulders and chest.

I felt foolish for thinking that Tenzin needed my help. I even felt foolish when I thought he was too weak to chase after Crowley. Even the villain took a step back, with his mouth slightly agape.

“Did you really believe that you could just walk in the Ryugyu’s most sacred place and pillage it to your evil heart’s content?” Tenzin’s voice had an aura of power and dominion to it.

Crowley’s mouth moved, but Tenzin’s voice boomed again, drowning any sound the Abjurer might have made.

“I will show you my true calling, Alastair Crowley. I will show you the true power of an exorcist.”

Light exploded from Tenzin like a flare going off. He stretched his arms apart, palms facing outwards. Light became an infernal blaze. Fire erupted from him, covering the exorcist and the surrounding vegetation, and seemed to reach the clouds above. And yet, there was no scorching and no burning.

That is, until Tenzin brought his hands together and pushed outwards, towards a stunned Crowley. Flames twisted into the shape of a tiger as the deva rocketed toward the villain. The area was soon a sea of flames. Grass, trees, soil—all became ash. Even the sky darkened as clouds formed overhead. I heard Tenzin’s cry and the tiger deva’s roar as one sound. Fire raged, emitting its own scream. Red flames became yellow, and then white—burning with the intensity of a thousand suns—until I couldn’t see anything.

The flames receded and I could feel again.

The landscape was scorched, but my senses picked up a blanket of energy coming from the very core of this pocket universe. The soil repaired itself, and tiny green seedlings sprouted from the ground. The trees were regaining their brown color again as their stumps grew into tall trunks. The plane was slowly, but surely, regrowing into its previous splendor.

Tenzin was in the middle of a large patch of ash, still jet-black from his previous spell. The snake deva was wrapped around him, steam hissing out as red patches of skin reverted back to their tanned state. The tail of the snake deva shot out, reaching towards me. It wrapped around me and I understood. The tiger deva’s flames attacked the body and soul. Only a deva can fully heal a deva’s power, and my healing abilities would only heal my body, not my soul.

The process took half a second, but for that short time I felt  a part of Tenzin’s spiritual connection to God.

I can’t describe it. How do you describe something that you cannot even begin to understand? But I can say this: whatever Tenzin was connected to was so far from human reach that it is enough to make you cry with its sheer beauty, and wish you were dead in utter desperation at never achieving that perfection.

Then again, I suppose that’s why they call him—it—God.

Tenzin cut off the connection, making the snake deva disappear. I grabbed Djinn’s blade and sliced my own palm against its sharp edge. The pain was real, human. The experience with the divine would probably haunt me for the rest of my life, but I could ask Tenzin about it later. Right now, I needed to be here in this reality, where imperfect and damaged beings run the show.

In front of Tenzin was a large, black husk that was making the slightest of movements. Tenzin, still retaining his calm but domineering composure, simply observed as Crowley rose up like a zombie. His skin was charred and parts of his hair had been burnt off, leaving him with bald spots, but otherwise, he appeared as solid as ever.

“That,” he rasped, “was somethin’ else.” He laughed maniacally. “Can we do it again, please?”

“You are damaged, Mr. Crowley,” Tenzin said. “Perhaps your specialization did not account for magic that damages your soul as well as your body.”

“Oh, shut up,” Crowley shot back. “I ain’t got no soul. That’s just a fairy tale. All I know is I ain’t hurt, much. So, is that the best you could do, Mr. Exorcist?”

“Not quite.”

Tenzin placed his hands together in prayer and energy flowed from his body. Static crackled around him, producing thin bolts of electricity.

“I will show you the most powerful of devas in its unrestrained form,” he said as he made a circular motion with his arms.

I remembered that pose from one of our training sessions. Tenzin had explained the concept of opposites and how one can generate energy from the harmony between the two.

My senses saw the mass of power around Tenzin break in two, each vibrating separately, before coalescing back together into a separate form of energy. I knew that pattern. My mind brought up the memory of my sister explaining the concept of electricity for a physics class. Something about electricity being the product of positive and negative charges rubbing against each other. At the time, I had made a stupid joke using the word “rubbing” in a less than appropriate manner.

But as I saw Tenzin’s process, I couldn’t help but notice the similarity. Both memories were about the same concept: opposites.

Positive and negative—might as well just call them Yin and Yang.

Electricity crackled around Tenzin. A lightning bolt descended upon him, filling the air with the smell of ozone and a sharp crack. Blue-white lightning bolts arced from Tenzin over the dark clouds that had assembled. The entire sky was dark, with one continuous bolt racing through it.

Behind Tenzin, lightning bent and twisted, transforming into a titanic, horrific Chinese dragon with its head reared up, complete with a pair of long incisors, whiskers that trailed sparks into the clouds, and horns that branched into a million lightning bolts and disappeared through the clouds. Its long body snaked behind Tenzin. It was as wide as the entire field, and planted a pair of claws around Tenzin, each of its three talons as large as a tree trunk.

Everywhere it touched, it scorched. Grass and bark sizzled in a shower of blue-white sparks. The dragon dwarfed everything by comparison. I couldn’t see the rest of its body, which had disappeared beyond my vision. The full length of its long serpentine body reached beyond the sky and disappeared into the clouds. It seemed that the lightning dragon was too large to stretch comfortably in this pocket universe.

The entire beast was formed from white-blue lightning, like the personification of the most horrendous storm that ever existed.

“The embodiment of harmony between Yin and Yang.” Tenzin’s voice boomed over the loud crackle of lightning. “The dragon deva!”

The lighting dragon roared.

Crowley cowered in front of it, physically trembling. “What are you?” he screamed.

“I am the messenger of Kami-sama. And by his power, you shall be defeated,” Tenzin roared. It didn’t sound like him anymore. He was completely taken over by the deva, or perhaps, by God itself.

Crowley stood defiantly despite his trembling. “Every fiber of my being is telling me to run away, that I can’t beat you,” he said. A psychotic smile stretched across his lips. “But I wanna know.” His hands squeezed into claws as he looked at his tense fingers. “I wanna know what happens after I decay a god.”

Tenzin roared and turned his body sideways, his right hand straight and pointing at Crowley, with the other pointing at the opposite direction towards the sky. The dragon deva rose to the clouds and descended upon Crowley with a roar that shook the earth. Crowley let out an ecstatic scream and intercepted the deva with both hands.

The resulting explosion rivaled that of a nuke.

I stabbed Djinn into the ground, burying it to the hilt, and braced myself. Debris went flying and the blast slammed against my body, pushing me away. I clung to my handhold and hoped that the entire plane wouldn’t be destroyed.

There was no crater or overturned earth. Tenzin stood rooted in the same spot, still displaying his calm demeanor. But he wasn’t standing proud. The toll of slinging around heavyweight power like that must have caught up with him. A billow of dust rose where Crowley once stood, and my senses felt nothing.

No deva, no Crowley.

The spell must have vaporized him.

Tenzin looked at me, and I gave him a thumbs-up. He returned the gesture.

“I want one of those,” I called out with a smile as I pulled out my sword. Tenzin smiled and once again the man I knew had returned.

Crowley was gone forever, Tenzin was back, and I couldn’t be happier. I felt like we had finally won. It had taken me sixteen years to figure out the evil plot and defeat the bad guys, but it was all over now. I could return home and see Gil again. I could introduce her to Tenzin. Heck, maybe we’d be a happy family like I always wanted.

Only difference would be that Tenzin wasn’t an evil sociopath.

He was about to say something when Crowley, his skin burned black and his body covered in blood, burst forwards towards him, driving something small and shiny into the old man’s gut.

Tenzin could have avoided that with his eyes closed but the strain of magic was too much for him. I understood just how injured he was when Crowley drove his fist into his face. Tenzin hunched over and intercepted a second strike, He twisted, smashing his forehead into Crowley’s nose, breaking it, and kept spinning. Crowley’s arm snapped as he was sent flying into the air.

“Tenzin,” I screamed. “Use the snake.”

Tenzin’s aura flared and I expected to see the familiar brilliant white cobra. He extracted a penknife from his gut and blood streamed out, soaking his clothes.

But the snake deva never showed.

“I cannot use it,” he said as he fell to his knees. I ran to his side. My mind began to panic, and I searched for something, anything, to help him.

“Why not?” I asked.

He looked at me, a twinkle in his eyes. “It is not God’s will,” he said with a tone of simplicity. His aura flared with enough force to throw me backwards. “Erik, please stay away from me.” His voice had an air of finality to it that scared me. “Please stay back and do not interfere, whatever you see.”

“What?” My voice was high-pitched, and a tear trickled down my cheek. Tenzin smiled, his eyes full of love and benevolence. I found myself scrambling backwards, as if some invisible force was controlling me.

“Alastair Crowley!” Tenzin’s voice was back to ethereal deity mode.

Crowley stood, clutching his nose as blood streamed out from between his fingers.

“You are the vilest of beings. You chase after innocents for nefarious ends, you trample upon the Ryugyu Temple’s most sacred ground, and you wounded a vessel of the great Kami-sama. Your very nature is twisted and malevolent, and I shall bring upon you divine justice.”

The Buddha of light formed around Tenzin. It appeared more solid than usual, and was composed of a golden aura, corporeal enough to compress the vegetation beneath it. Blood from Tenzin’s wound mixed with the apparition, slowly darkening it. I saw Tenzin clenching his teeth, but the deity’s will was stronger. The Buddha grew darker and darker, until it seemed a solid gold statue encompassed Tenzin. It grew in size, towering over both Tenzin and Crowley. The sheer power of it was enough to dwarf anything I’d met before.

Forget the devas—this thing was more powerful than all of them put together.

Tenzin’s voice, a specter of its former self, loomed across the landscape, agitating the very fabric of the universe.

“Amida Buddha.”

The phantasm shifted, becoming tall and elongated. Tenzin clasped his hands together in prayer and blood gushed steadily from the wound. Whatever magic he was using wasn’t doing anything to keep him alive.

The tall statue had no gender. It had the chiseled grace of a female, beautiful and gentle, yet its expression was hard and savage, brimming with masculine rage. It wore a circlet across its forehead like a crown. Its arms, disproportionately long, were spread open, palms facing outwards. A second pair of arms grew, mimicking the same pose as the first pair. A third pair emerged, as did a fourth and fifth. Arms sprouted out in pairs, until I lost count. The statue’s limbs piled on top of each other until they formed a circle of arms around it, like an oversized halo.

I remembered this one. Tenzin had spoken about it once. He said it was the deity of war, but also of peace and justice—the God of a Thousand Arms.

“SENJU KANNON!”

At the declaration of Kannon’s name, Tenzin spread his arms, palms facing outwards, like the Crucifixion. The deity behind him radiated light and power.

And not just any power or magic. This was eons beyond magic. This was the power to snuff out entire solar systems and reshape galaxies.

This was the power of a true god.

Chapter 39

There was no warning of attack.

Tenzin shot his hand forwards, and the apparition of Senju Kannon slammed one of its gigantic hands on top of Crowley, swatting him like a fly. The arm disappeared and reappeared in its original position. Crowley swayed drunkenly, but was otherwise unharmed. Tenzin slipped into a stance and executed another move. The phantasm slapped five of its arms down. Tenzin continued his sequence, prompting the statue to rain down a series of punches on Crowley, who was now on his knees.

Tenzin was relentless in his motions, going from one sequence into another with familiar ease. It took me a couple of move sets to recognize his movements, mostly because a giant god with a thousand arms was slamming down blows on Crowley, but there was something familiar about them. Heck, I’d spent weeks practicing those same move sets. Tenzin was performing the same sequence he had taught me in order to control my power.

Damn, who knew it was actually a sequence to channel the power of a freaking god? Maybe someday I’d have a totally awesome deity pummeling the bad guys for me.

As the sequence grew more intense, Kannon’s expression darkened. Its many hands punched and slapped at Crowley, each big enough to flatten an SUV.

The Abjurer found the courage to dodge the gargantuan limbs and moved closer to Tenzin, thinking that if he got close enough he’d be safe from Kannon.

But the god karate chopped the ground, halting his movements by forming a fence with its arms around Tenzin. It flicked Crowley into the air and caught him with a different pair of arms. The god squeezed, crushing Crowley. I heard bone snap and Crowley screaming in pain.

I saw his magic take effect, automatically decaying the opposing magic. Kannon’s hands became less solid until they disappeared completely. Crowley dropped down in a slump and watched helplessly as a giant golden fist shot at him.

But Crowley’s magic was automatic, that was why his body was the way it was—he  was constantly emitting Abjuration magic, affecting the area surrounding him.

Kannon’s fist made contact and threw him aside, but not before decaying, going from a solid golden mass to a nearly invisible mirage of light. As soon as Crowley was sent flying and his area of effect no longer included the arm, Kannon’s hand was restored to normal.

Both combatants seemed to have reached their limits. Crowley was a mess: most of his gray-blue skin was charred and burned with black patches oozing blood. His right arm hung uselessly by his side, already swollen in two different places. He could barely stand straight. His ragged breath made me suspect a couple of broken ribs.

Tenzin looked like he was about to croak any second now. His body had somehow shrunk so that every bone popped from beneath paper-thin skin. Even his tan complexion had lost its exotic appearance. His eyes were hollow, and his hair hung white and lifeless over his shoulders. His stab wound had expanded into a gash. The proud warrior monk had become a puppet for Senju Kannon as it sucked every last drop of vitality from him. I could tell that he wanted to die, that he needed to die.

But his god wouldn’t allow him to rest in peace until it executed its vengeance upon Crowley.

I was never one for belief in God. You’d think that having seen magic and all those wonderful and crazy things that I would believe in the big G, but truth be told, my view of the world was through the eyes of a wizard. I saw magic and power, not belief. The idea of a benevolent and omnipotent deity was ludicrous to me, given my psychotic father, my desecrated mother, and a lifestyle that would make any sane person walk off a cliff.

But that all changed when I met Tenzin. Sure, he talked a lot about God and being kind, and I did feel that serenity he felt for a while, but he’d became much more to me. Tenzin was my surrogate father, one who actually loved me and nourished me into becoming a half-decent person. He had become the person I aspired to be, and if one day I grew up to be even half the man he was, I’d consider myself lucky.

I watched him like that, half dead as the god he dedicated his life to serving sucked off every last morsel of life he had. I watched as God prolonged his suffering, using one of the kindest and most loving people in this world as a battery.

And all this for vengeance against someone who was truly evil, someone I had brought into his life.

I was never one for belief, but at that very moment, as I watched Senju Kannon pummel Crowley, slowly killing both men at once—at that moment, I saw God.

And God was killing the man I grew to respect and even love. The man I considered my father.

Senju Kannon unleashed a barrage of hits, each of its arms swatting at Crowley. The Abjurer was on the verge of death, hanging by a thread, just like Tenzin. That’s when Kannon began gathering energy.

The arms disappeared into the god’s torso, charging up for one final attack. At that moment, Tenzin’s head turned to look at me. The phantasm mimicked his movements. His eyes met mine and he smiled, life and love returning to his expression. I felt a phantasmal hand wrap around my body—a shield.

Tenzin’s right arm blackened and withered away, and I understood. He sacrificed his own limb to conjure up one of Senju Kannon’s hands.

Only a deva can protect from another deva. By that same reasoning, only a god can protect against another god.

The last thing I saw was his smile, and for a second, I actually thought that everything would be all right.

Senju Kannon exploded.

From behind my shield, I saw a blinding light before everything went dark. I saw the pocket universe dying as it crumbled into bits, and I felt the energy that made this place so alive rapidly fading away. Kannon’s blast affected the magic running along the plane on a dimensional level, rupturing it.

The entire pocket universe folded on itself and the world ended.

I woke up in a dimly lit place, looking up at a familiar ceiling. I had stared at it so many nights when I couldn’t sleep. The warehouse hadn’t changed at all.

I stood and noticed two things. One, that the large, spray-painted symbols on the wall were gone.

The other was Tenzin lying next to me in a pool of blood. His arm was missing, leaving a dark patch at the stump on his shoulder.

“Tenzin.” My cry reverberated throughout the warehouse. The old man cracked his eyes open.

I knelt beside him and cradled his head. “Tenzin, please. Come on, get up.”

His remaining hand gripped mine with surprising strength. “No, Erik.” His voice was barely a whisper. “It is my time.”

I felt tears run down my cheek. Something was squeezing hard against my chest. “Don’t say that. You’re gonna be fine.”

Tenzin chuckled. “Yes, I will be. I will soon pass over to the other world, where I will truly be at peace.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he squeezed my hand again. “My rucksack, Erik. I have something to give you.”

I had gotten so used to following his orders that I found myself reaching over him. The ancient rucksack was right next to him. I hauled it over and placed his hand on it. He fumbled with a side pocket and extracted a small, rectangular piece of wood with a kanji  character chiseled on one side. He pressed it into my hand.

“My mentor made this for me before I left on my journey,” he said. “It’s a lucky charm. I want you to have it.”

More tears splashed onto our hands and the charm between them.

“Erik,” Tenzin continued. “I will always be with you, always. Accept who you are, Erik, and see the wonderful man that I see in you. Never forget the lessons I have shared with you. Keep my memory alive by living by my creed. Be kind and benevolent. Love, and release yourself from hatred. Always be just. I have faith in you, Erik. I always did. You will become an excellent man, one I would have been proud to call my son.”

He burst into a fit of coughs and settled back down with a rasping breath. “It seems that my time has come. I have no regrets, Erik. I will leave everything to you. I love you.”

His smile never faded, not even after I felt his essence leave his body and realized that he was truly dead.

I don’t know how long I cried and screamed. I don’t know how many times I cursed God and the entire universe for his death. At one point, I snatched up my weapon and scoured the warehouse for Crowley. I would cut him to pieces. He will never rest in peace, not if I had anything to do with it.

Anger, sadness, frustration—they all flooded through me like a river. I felt the familiar power take effect again, encasing me in thin, black shadows.

I hated that power, too.

If it weren’t for that goddamned curse, Crowley would have never taken an interest in me and Tenzin wouldn’t have had to die. I screamed in sheer pain and the power responded, sending tendrils of destruction everywhere.

Then I realized that I might have damaged Tenzin’s body and rushed back to his side. I must have cried for hours, yet the darkness still clung to me. No matter, I didn’t care about it.

All that mattered was that Tenzin was dead.

The lucky charm was still in my hand. I wouldn’t have picked it up, had it not been for my enhanced sense: the faintest pulses of energy came from the wood, exactly like Tenzin’s, as if a part of him had been embedded inside the talisman.

“I will always be with you,” he had said.

Perhaps this was how. This little spark of power was his way of reminding me that he was always there with me. Within the talisman, I felt a connection to a different world, a small fraction of the pocket universe.

Senju Kannon had destroyed everything, but Tenzin had managed to save a little of it.

An inheritance, I thought. Tenzin had left me a legacy in his teachings and in his gift. The least I could do was honor his last request of me.

The shadows still clung to me. I dropped Djinn gently and caressed them with my free hand. They felt light and silky, like a warm pocket of air. It felt right, true and real. These shadows, this power I grew to fear and despise, were as much a part of me as the blood in my veins.

And so, I accepted it. I was cursed and I had this ability. It was a part of me and I would live with it for the rest of my life.

Strangely enough, I was okay with that. The tightening around my head and chest loosened. The last time I felt this free was years ago, before the fight with the phoenix, before all of this crap started.

I felt light and free—I felt at peace.

I understood what I had to do. I flipped the talisman over and placed my right index finger on it, channeling my magic. The shadows converged into my finger and disappeared. I felt the familiar agony but it didn’t cripple me like before. I felt pain, but pushed it at the back of my head like an afterthought and focused on my spell.

It was a small and simple act of magic, but I poured my heart and soul into it. When I removed my finger, a different kanji was burned intricately into the wooden talisman. It was the first word Tenzin had ever taught me, and I felt it described his very essence.

Serenity.

I pocketed the talisman and bent over. My lips touched Tenzin’s forehead, and I muttered a prayer, the same one he muttered over me before I ran away to distract the nue.

“For good luck,” he had said.

“For good luck,” I whispered.

I picked up Djinn and placed the tip on his chest. Tears welled up again and a lump formed in my throat. But I steeled myself. Energy flowed from me into the body, setting it ablaze. I turned to walk away, leaving behind Tenzin and the warehouse, but not the memories.

I would never forget this. I had to deal with my demons, I had to let go of my hatred, and I saw only one way to do that. Eliminate the source—I had to find Crowley and finish him off, once and for all. Not just for me, but also for Tenzin, Gil, Mom, and every other life he had ruined.

I channeled magic as I walked out of the warehouse, setting it on fire as well. By the time I walked into town it was a raging bonfire. There would probably be some news story tomorrow about a gas leak or something.

But they would never find Tenzin. I made sure of that.

I had to erase every trace of our life together in that warehouse. And now, I had to erase the person who was responsible for forcing me to abandon my home and my loved ones twice in a row.

Chapter 40

I don’t know how long it took me to go from our warehouse, cross the whole town, and end up back in Trinity Forest.

I walked with purpose, like a man on a mission—I felt like the Terminator. I briefly recall the sun going down and then back up again. I just kept on walking—no breaks, no stops. Just marched straight into Trinity Forest without so much as a pee break. I felt something guiding me, giving me the strength and force of will to never stop. Maybe it was Tenzin.

I like to think so.

My power took effect, feeding off sheer anger and determination. Don’t abuse it, said the little voice of reason inside my head.

I told it to shut up.

I’ll worry about that later, after I had dealt with Crowley.

Maybe his power naturally warded him off against my senses, or maybe the little weasel was good at hiding, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. It was clear to me that he would run and hide, far beyond my reach.

There wasn’t much I could do without a proper tracking spell. Not that I could do one without it exploding or sending me into a coma. So instead of playing chicken, I went to someone I knew for sure would have Crowley’s phone number.

The forest felt like home, its energies giving me a sense of comfort and familiarity. This was my surrogate home.

I felt the raw energy of the forest interact with my own. My body trailed darkness and shadows leaked from me. I felt the bond between man and nature strengthen, and I could sense everything that went on in that gigantic patch of land—how many campers were there, the couple of park rangers sitting in a lodge about two kilometers north, one of them smoking a cigarette, and the curious ant who bumped his antennae against my sneaker.

Smack in the middle of the forest, I felt a large concentration of magic. A bizarre, kaleidoscope of agony, greed, lust and despair, all having been accumulated throughout  the centuries. It was the hub of the most horrific practice of magic I had ever felt. I lived in it for so long and never once noticed the tragedy that went on in there.

I had found the Ashendale mansion.

I could have just walked up and asked Gil to give me Crowley’s information. It would have been nice to see her again after all this time, the only family I had left in the world.

Now you can understand my heartbreak when I got within range of the mansion and felt that darkness: the same darkness I always felt when it was Dad who ran the show. I honestly thought Gil would purify this place, or change it, or even just burn it to the ground and start anew.

But she didn’t. All she did was take the throne. The darkness and horror emanating from the mansion was the same as always. Which meant that the family business hadn’t changed. Gil had become a proper Warlock, meaning she knew every dark little secret our family had in the closet, including Crowley.

I couldn’t just go up the front door and ask her to rat out a potential ally.

She changed Erik. Just like you did.

Whatever sadness, rage and heartbreak I felt served only to fuel my powers. I sank deeper into the void until I felt nothing at all.

Tenzin’s death was on the forefront. Gil, Mephisto, the mansion—they would all have to wait.

All that mattered now was killing Crowley.

The mansion was not exactly as I had left it.

For one thing, the walls were back in place.

For another, the whole damn thing looked like a fortress. And I don’t mean like Fort Knox: I am talking about a giant, twenty-foot wall erected around the mansion. A large, black gate with symbols etched all over it was on one side. Cameras studded the fortress wall, giving a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view.

A soldier wizard stood beneath each camera, effectively surrounding the mansion. They had visors on, obscuring their features, and were dressed in black overalls. They wore bulletproof vests with dark gray camouflage designs. Their pockets were, no doubt, full of materials for spells. I was more worried about the automatic rifles they slung around their shoulders.

I let out a low breath. They couldn’t see or hear me. I was hidden in the shrubbery about a hundred meters from the house, and I saw everything clearly, despite the darkness of the night.

Whoever was in charge of security took their job way too seriously. People here went from paranoid to zombie apocalypse. It would take an army to bring them down, or a small horde of demons. If I had been faced with this situation before meeting Tenzin, I would have backed away.

But not today.

I had fought off a phoenix and lost my magic, fought a baku and lost my sanity, a super Warlock and lost my father, and a nue who just wanted to hunt me down.

So, a couple of jokers with machine guns wasn’t exactly imposing. I faced nightmares that had killed me, and resurrected myself with powers beyond my imagination.

So, if I, the guy who’s supposed to be their boss in the first place, wanted to walk up to the front door, there was exactly nothing they could do about it.

However, that didn’t mean I was going to dive in headfirst. I had to play this smart.

My energy superheated Djinn until the blade was glowing. I placed it between dried twigs and leaves. They began smoking, and the faintest of embers appeared. A shadowy tendril caressed the ember, coercing it into a small flame. It ate more and more leaves.

As the fire grew, I took off. The fire fed on matter and magic, growing more furious. The first soldier abandoned his station to check it out. From my hideout, I saw more and more soldiers scrambling toward the flames.

I smiled. I was wrong to refer to them as soldiers—they were mercenaries, trained to deal with monsters and magic. Throw in a natural disaster like a forest fire and they scatter like ants.

I mentally chided Gil—that’s what you get when you swap quality for quantity.

I watched the cameras shift to the fire and bolted from my hiding spot. A pincer attack—light a fire on one end of the enemy base and attack from the other. Once the forces were divided, the chances of victory increased. Tenzin had taught me that. Something about a swordsman named Musashi and a book he wrote.

As I ran, I unleashed a streak of energy at the surprised guards. They dove for cover, and I followed up with another blast. Both attacks slammed into the concrete wall, leaving a deep groove. The guards opened fire and sprayed hot lead at me. Shadows converged around me, and I extended my left arm.

The bullets embedded themselves in the shadows and stopped, having been stripped of all kinetic energy. They fell uselessly on the ground. I diverted all that power into my sword and stabbed forwards. A blast of air rippled towards the wall and blasted a giant, gaping hole in it.

“Level five threat,” spoke one of the soldiers into an earpiece. “Switching to suppressing fire.”

I heard a loud whirring noise coming from the camera posts. A turret emerged from behind each cameras and pointed at me.

“Oh, crap.”

Turrets went off, their barrels rotating faster than a chopper’s rotors. Large-caliber bullets shot towards me. I didn’t try to block those. Instead, I focused on my legs and ran. The turrets followed my path, shooting bullets a hair’s breadth away. Guards who weren’t fast enough got shredded. As I ran around the fortress wall at a higher speed, the turrets tore into each other as they kept on shooting.

“All units: ignore the forest fire. Converge all attention on target,” screamed the leader into his earpiece. “Target appears to be a boy in black.”

I ran up to him as he aimed his weapon at me. I whipped Djinn across, cutting his gun and a part of his hand. Another slash opened a gash from hip to shoulder, across his chest. The bulletproof vest was less than useless.

“Crowley!” I screamed at the direction of the mansion.

“Fire, fire!” cried a soldier.

A group of them put on weird gauntlets and flipped a switch on each device. They held their palms toward me and I heard a click. Fire spat from the gauntlets like miniature flamethrowers. Whips of magically enhanced flame shot at me, jerking from side to side. With my limited mobility, I had no choice but to take the hit. Luckily, I was still encased in shadows and only felt a fraction of the damage.

“My turn,” I snarled as I shot a streak of energy at them. The fire group went flying.

Two new guards leapt in front of me. Their knuckledusters, one on each hand, were plated in platinum, contrasting with their dark uniforms. I lunged at one. He dodged, and the other punched my side. He might as well have hit me with a truck. Ribs and lungs were crushed, leaving me breathless while my healing repaired the damage. The second guy punched my chest, throwing me backwards. Like ninjas, they flipped forwards. One of them punched me in the head as the other spun and kicked low. My legs flew out from under me and I hit the ground hard. In sync, they moved in for the kill.

They suddenly stopped, rigid. Spikes of shadowy material shot from my body and into theirs.

That hadn’t been a conscious decision on my part. I guessed my power had self-defense mechanisms built into it.

Oh well, they did try to kill me first.

A guard jumped in front of me and aimed two taser pistols. I heard a little pop. Four coils of electricity shot forwards, their barbs penetrating my skin. Volts of electricity went through me. The guard channeled his magic, and the coils glowed like a light bulb as the voltage increased. My body was paralyzed and my mind numb with pain.

“Pin it down.”

Stakes of iron tore through my arms and legs like medieval torture devices. Each spike was attached to a thin silver chain, one to each a soldier. They poured their magic in and I immediately felt the spell take effect. A poison spread through me, clouding my mind and paralyzing my body. I couldn’t move, much less fight.

But this spell was for monsters. I was much, much more.

My power called upon the forest, and the forest responded. Now that my body was paralyzed, the forest became my limbs.

From beneath us, roots, black as night, burst out, hitting and strangling all of the guards. They dragged the men under to be crushed by the land. Others were pulled into the raging forest fire to be roasted alive. Some were speared through, while others were strangled or pulled apart.

As soon as I regained control over my body, I extracted the iron spikes.

I felt him rather than saw him—a gust of wind and a malicious thought. Djinn elongated into a broadsword of azure light and I brought it down.

Mephisto appeared, blocking my sword with the palms of his hands. His claws had shredded through the glove fabric and would have been raking across my throat if I hadn’t blocked his strike.

“Master Erik,” he said as we both strained and pushed against each other.

“Dog,” I replied. A final burst of energy and we both went flying away from each other.

“Erik!”

Gil stood tall and proud in a tan suit with a white overcoat draped around her like a cape. Old-school Warlocks used to wear them to symbolize their authority.

“Protect the boss!” Soldiers surrounded her.

“Stand down,” she barked and they tensed at her side.

“What is the meaning of this, Erik?” she spat. “Why have you returned?”

“Crowley,” I snarled. “Where is he?”

“How the hell should I know? Last I heard he was chasing you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Screw you, Erik,” she screamed. “Why would you think I had any contact with that bastard?”

“Because you’re still alive!” My throat burned, but I kept screaming at my sister. “Because he told me that I had to run away to keep you from danger,” I said pointing at Mephisto. “But Crowley could have just come after you to lure me out. Which means someone lied to me.”

“Someone needed to step up to the position of Head of Household,” Mephisto said. “You were not going to do it, Erik, so a worthier substitute had to be found.”

My blood boiled as he said that. There it was, that feeling of being duped and played. This was why he wanted me away from Gil, to make her assume the mantle and influence her.

“Stand down, Erik,” Gil said before I could take a single step.

“He’s a liar and a manipulator,” I replied.

“He is also the only one who was here to help me rebuild what you destroyed. He told me how you ran off, how you became a monster. He told me how much you hate our Warlock heritage.” She paused. “As much as I hated our father, I am a Warlock too. Do you hate me as well, Erik? Is that why you ran away? Do you hate who you are so much that you couldn’t bear it any longer?”

That hurt.

Mephisto was afraid I had become a monster and, to be honest, I don’t know what to believe anymore. I liked to think Tenzin fostered some good in me, but all I did today was destroy and murder.

No, I was a good person. This was Mephisto we’re talking about. I had to question every single word he said.

“And now you show up again, destroying all of my hard work,” Gil continued. “Are you happy now? Do you want to kill me, too? Have you really become a monster?”

A cold sensation washed over me. Gil, the one person whom I thought would always be my ally, had left me forever.

Now I knew. We were complete strangers to each other.

I would have loved to scream out how much I had suffered and lost, but at that moment, I was too numb to feel anything.

“Crowley,” I said. “I want him. Now.” I raised Djinn, ready to attack. “You can either give him to me, or I swear to God, I will tear this place apart until I find him.”

Mephisto chuckled and took a step forward. “Do you really think you can defeat me, Master Erik?”

I pointed Djinn at him. “Even as powerful as I am right now, I’m not sure. But I sure as hell can take you down with me.”

Mephisto halted and his eyes narrowed. We began a staring contest, each glaring into the other’s eyes.

“Enough,” Gil said. She took a deep breath. “I have archived all of father’s journals and contacts. That was one of the steps I took in order to start the Ashendale business from scratch. But as Head of Household, I can look at them again. There may be a contact number.”

I lowered my weapon. “Good. When you find him, give him this message: tomorrow, high noon. Sawtooth Mountain. And tell him to get his affairs in order.”

I turned to leave and walked directly into the forest fire. A normal wizard would have just used the cover of night to run away undetected. But out of principle, I knew my sister wouldn’t stab me in the back.

Still, I felt a show of power was necessary.

As I walked, I extended my left hand and tapped into the connection I felt with the forest. The fire still had a portion of my power in it and I called it back. With a loud whoosh, the flames formed a vortex and I sucked them into me. All that power was transferred back to its original state—massive shadows writhed around me before receding.

The effect only lasted for a second but she could feel the massive torrent of power, and I could sense her fear and awe. I could feel it as her brain came to a simple conclusion—I was far more powerful than anything she’d ever encountered and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do to stop me.

Chapter 41

Sawtooth Mountain wasn’t the tallest peak in the Trinity Alps. I mean, eight thousand feet are nothing to scoff at, but hikers and mountaineers often ventured it.

I remembered when Gil and I used to climb it, a process that took hours and did wonders for our stamina.

The reason I chose it was a small bed of snow a few hundred feet from the peak. There was absolutely nothing there—no trees, no rocks or animals. Just snow, ice and emptiness; a true open ground. And that was exactly where I wanted to meet Crowley. No more hiding and no more subterfuge—this was a showdown between two wizards, and the loser would pay with his life.

After the fight at the mansion, I made my way to the peak. My body moved on its own, not stopping for rest or food. It was as though the connection between the magic running through the forest and the magic within me was enough to sustain me. It gave me power, it gave me purpose. I had become something in between a man and a beast, something I did not understand. But this was the power I needed, so I did not resist it.

Hours went by, and it didn’t matter. I remember the sensation of running through the forest. My legs knew exactly where to step. My body angled itself perfectly to avoid rocks and branches. What’s more, it seemed that the forest accommodated the wizard blazing through it. Winds blew leaves and vines from my path. Wildlife, even territorial ones, merely watched as I bolted through. Rocks and snow did not give way under my weight, and before I knew it I was at my destination. All that was left to do now was to wait.

Crowley would be here, of that I could be sure. I had offered myself on a silver platter. A wide-open area in the middle of nowhere where help of any kind was hours away. To him, I was a mutated wizard—take away my toys and I couldn’t even light a candle. I was nothing but a helpless piece of meat, ripe for the picking.

So, I sat on the snow, crossed my legs and placed my short sword flat on my lap. I closed my eyes and began muttering a chant. Tenzin and I often meditated like this during our time together. Memories and the pain of loss threatened to surface, but my newfound power wouldn’t let them. It was like my connection with the forest had built a barrier—after all, it could not feel loss.

All it felt was anger, and yet, at the same time, peace. It was awe-inducing and terrifying, a sensation that no human could grasp. Primal rage and inner peace amplified by a thousand-fold to a level where a person would just go insane. Raw emotion that would break down even the strongest of minds.

And it all coursed through me.

Even in my trance, I heard the helicopter approaching. The chopper hovered on the opposite side of the field. White mist flew from the snow. A ladder dangled from the helicopter, and Crowley descended. His feet touched the snow, and he waved at the pilot.

He looked as sharp as usual. A silver-gray suit with a black, silk shirt, expensive Italian loafers and that ridiculous gray fedora he always wore. He didn’t wear his gloves this time—I suppose there was no real need to hide his gray-blue skin. He had a pair of aviators on and his usual smile. Even against the reflective white snow, his pearly white teeth were clearly visible.

He walked away from underneath the chopper holding his hat in place with his hand. I got up and walked toward him, slowly. We both took our time, preparing ourselves for the confrontation to come.

“Is that your ride back home?” I asked. Crowley nodded. He pursed his lips and stretched them into a smile.

The forest felt the intruders within it. One was immune to magic, decaying it before it could reach him. A second man was inside the chopper, but not out of reach. He was evil too but to a different degree than the man below. His magic was also weaker in comparison to the other.

The forest wanted to punish these two.

Winds picked up, assaulting the chopper. I sensed the pilot’s panic as he experienced a malfunction and his aircraft spiraled downwards. It crashed against a nearby peak, exploding in a small fireball.

Crowley let out a low whistle.

“In case the point wasn’t driven home,” I said as I assumed a fighting stance, “you’re not going back. This icy mountain will be your grave.”

Crowley removed his aviator shades. He calmly folded them and put them in his breast pocket in front of a folded handkerchief. “That’s an awful thing to say, little boy. You owe me a chopper, by the way.”

He splayed his hands. I felt the magic around him wither and die as his area of affect extended further and further.

“Bill me,” I replied. A streak of energy shot at Crowley as I flicked Djinn upward. I slashed downward, sending a second streak on top of the first. Crowley’s eyes narrowed. The azure energy withered into nothing before it could as much as knock his hat off.

But it didn’t matter.

Djinn’s elongated blade dug into the snow and I flicked it upwards into his face. The snow was not affected by his magic, and he let out a string of curses as it went directly into his beady eyes. I lunged, stabbing an enhanced Djinn into his gut. Its magic dissipated on contact with Crowley, and the blade receded. But he couldn’t affect the sharpness of the original blade, and even as its magic decayed, it reverted back to its original size and went a good three inches inside him.

He bent forwards and grabbed the blade. I balled my left fist and delivered an uppercut into his throat as I pulled the sword out.

“That one’s for Gil,” I spat at him.

My leg snapped into a low roundhouse kick. I heard his knee crack, and he dropped on it. I kept my momentum, raised my right hand and smashed the pommel of my sword against his jaw. Something cracked. Best of all, the stupid hat sailed away, revealing bald spots and burned patches of hair, courtesy of Tenzin.

“This one’s for my mom.”

I kicked his face and his head snapped backwards. It would have been a lethal blow, but he allowed himself to be thrown back, dissipating the force, and placing him at a safe distance from me. I felt magic dying all around him.

He got to his feet. Parts of his body cracked as some form of healing took place.

“I wasn’t exactly tellin’ you the truth about my magic,” he said as we both panted. “I decay magic. But the question no one asks is ‘and then what’?”

“The hell are you talking about?” I said.

“It’s really simple.” More body parts healed, but he was still walking with a limp. “What you see around you ain’t true magic. Fire, ice, energy, glowing statues—these are all effects. By ‘decay’ I meant ‘strip away all the effects’ and return magic back to its original form. My teacher called it Prime. It’s the fuel of magic, you see, the unlimited potential. That’s what we Abjurers do. We play around with the Prime and shape it like putty. And the thing is, everybody’s got Prime in ‘em. What you might call a Core or a Spark. It’s the same stuff. It’s what holds the universe together.”

He straightened up. “So, you see, I’m damn near invincible. Whatever you do, I can decay and absorb the Prime to heal. Face it, Erik,” he said, licking his lips, “you’re my bitch.”

“Absorb this.”

I lunged. Crowley sidestepped, too quick for someone who was limping, and latched onto me.

“I intend to.”

I felt my body go numb, and my magic dying within me. My head spun.

“I intend to decay every last morsel of you and suck out all that Prime. You really have no idea just how much you have,” I heard Crowley snarl. “It’s wasted on you. Now, give it to me, it’s all mine.”

My soul ripped apart as his magic killed mine and left a husk.

A voice reverberated inside my head, drowning out Crowley’s voice.

Power. More power.

I felt my connection to the forest deepen, opening up a vast reservoir of magic. When I opened my eyes, it was as if someone had taken a picture of the red desert and the snowy mountain, and overlaid them. Suddenly, I was torn between two worlds, and both were feeding me power.

Not just any power—this was the nectar that Crowley wanted. Core magic, or Prime, flowed through me and darkness rose.

“What… what the hell is this?” Crowley relinquished his grip on me. His magic ceased working. He was just one man, after all.

I was the forest—no, I was the world.

That wasn’t it either.

I was a vast universe of power, and I had one intention: destroy Crowley.

Tendrils of darkness stabbed through him. It was not a physical attack—I attacked his magic, his Prime, turning it against him. And in that moment of agony, I felt connected to him. Not quite reading his mind, but rather feeling what he felt.

I felt his fear when he faced Tenzin and Senju Kannon, soon followed by the pleasure he took in decaying that powerful magic.

I could feel his confusion and doubts at this very moment—there had never been a magic he couldn’t affect. He had sacrificed everything else to learn his obscure branch of Abjuration. He gave it all up to become one with his magic so that nothing could harm him.

His magic had always worked—so, what was different now?

I saw his mind go through hundreds of possibilities and finally settle to a logical conclusion. His magic was still the same, he realized. It was that he met a monster whose power was light-years ahead of his. A brat who held the power to reshape the world. Crowley’s insignificance couldn’t even begin to register against such power.

My own reasoning, my consciousness—the parts that made me Erik—resurfaced from a dark corner.

Avenge Tenzin.

Kill Crowley.

Those were my thoughts. Memories of my life with Tenzin and Gil. Memories of peace and happiness.

“And this one,” I said, throwing Crowley way from me. “This one is for Tenzin.”

I let my power extend to the sky, and thunderclouds gathered. Djinn glowed furiously. I brought it up and slashed down, cutting in between Yin and Yang, positive and negative, and generated energy between them.

The energy manifested into electricity, bright white-blue bolts that raced towards the clouds.

I could not summon the dragon deva. Heck, I wasn’t even sure what ‘deva’ really meant.

But I could sure as hell recreate the effect of one.

Lightning gathered around me until my ears rang and my skin went numb. I held Djinn like a javelin, and threw it high into the clouds. Lightning followed it, surrounding the blade like a furious sun.

My magic was still connected to it, guiding and shaping it.

The lightning morphed into a Chinese dragon with Djinn at the tip of its snout. It roared and thunder rumbled, shaking the mountain.

It shot from the heavens, straight into the man cowering in the snow as he stood in awe, watching his demise descend from the sky. The dragon crashed into Crowley and exploded. Light and heat filled my field of vision. The ice on the mountain’s peak fell and evaporated, exposing a large patch of rock.

That last spell had done it for me. The magic, the super-powered energy that came from the forest and the weird red desert, dissipated into nothing. My knees buckled as the torrent of power left my body, leaving behind a profoundly damaged Erik. I could barely blink—even that hurt.

The ice mist settled down, revealing the aftermath of my spell. Crowley was impaled by Djinn. The short sword pinned him to the ground, and occasionally, a small bolt of electricity would spark from it.

Ignoring the pains and aches of my body, I walked towards him.

A hole gaped where his chest should have been. The only parts left intact were his head, a foot and both hands. The rest was a disgusting mixture of black goo and ash.

The pendant that Tenzin had given me hung from the sword’s circular hand guard. I had fastened it there before my visit to the Ashendale mansion. It was a miracle that little trinket had survived. Then again, it did contain some powerful magic, even if just a tiny fraction.

Crowley’s eyes still shifted from side to side. I wasn’t worried—I could sense his  imminent death.

I smiled. This was a fitting end.

The last thing Crowley saw before crumbling into dust was the symbol for serenity that I had burned into my talisman. How poetic.

Serenity: Tenzin.

I hope it gets branded into Crowley as he burns in hell.

His remains crumbled into ash and the wind swept them away. I bent down to pull out Djinn, but it held fast. I no longer had the strength to pull my own sword from the ground. Now that magic no longer nourished my body, I felt the accumulated exhaustion of using such power. I couldn’t take it. My body needed rest and forced it onto me.

My mind went blank and the last thing I felt was the cold hard sensation of the ground against my face.

Chapter 42

Now

Sun Tzu’s hands had been clenched throughout my story. “What happened afterwards?” he asked.

His grip relaxed by a fraction.

“I woke up two days later buried in snow,” I replied.

My hand snaked around the two empty whiskey bottles and grabbed a half-finished third. For a second, I considered forgoing the use of a glass—I had drunk half of our supply by myself.

But I poured more liquid courage into the glass anyway out of courtesy to Sun Tzu.

“Turns out my healing power needed some time to recharge,” I continued. The liquid didn’t even burn as it descended down my throat. “So, two days in a coma and I was good as new.” I poured another shot. “I was so freaked out by the whole experience. I saw myself become something I couldn’t describe. I mean, I get it, you know. We use magic, we create stuff that’s not ordinary. We manipulate science. I get that. But when I felt that connection…” I paused and tried not to freak out too much.

It had been years since I had thought about that day. I mean, yeah, it had always been there, like a sore spot at the back of my head, but I’d never brought it to the spotlight.

“That was more power than any person should have,” I said. “So, after I came to, I tried feeling out for that power again. I thought it was the forest but I found nothing. Now, I’m starting to think that whatever’s inside of me triggered it.”

“Yeah, you’re just about right.” Amaymon was in human form again, with his legs propped up on the table and a bottle of Jager all to himself. “Ain’t no forest got no power. When people say they feel a particular place has got a certain aura, they’re talkin’ about a Nexus. But when you went all He-Man, that wasn’t a Nexus. You pulled on the plane’s power. This entire universe, this entire plane of existence, was pumpin’ you up.”

“So that’s my secret ability?” I asked incredulously. “Leech off the damn planet?”

“Not quite,” Sun Tzu said. “I believe that Crowley might have given you the answers which you seek.”

“Oh, this should be good.”

Sun Tzu ignored me. “I believe he mentioned Prime, did he not?”

“Yes.”

“I am led to believe that he was referring to Chi, the energy of life,” he said. “That is your ability.”

“I’m confused.”

“Ain’t that a surprise,” Amaymon remarked. “Listen up. This thing called Prime, it goes by many names. Prime, Core, Spark, Chi, whatever. Even Life magic. It all refers to the same thing. It’s the energy that created the universe and keeps it spinning. It’s what links the dimensions and planes together. It creates bonds between different planes, between man and magic.”

I stared at Amaymon, trying to comprehend what he had just said.

“So, in essence, I control the fabric of life?” I asked.

“From what I heard, it controls you,” he said with a smirk.

“You get what the hell you’re suggesting?” I asked. “I can’t even light a damn candle without rolling in pain-”

“Which is often hilarious.”

“-so how is it possible that I control Life magic or Prime or whatever it’s called? It’s just insane.”

“But a link definitely exists,” Sun Tzu said.

“A link to what?” My voice grew hysterical. “It’s a power that exists only in mythology.”

“And you live in a world where mythology and reality often intersect,” Sun Tzu said. His voice was stern, like a headmaster reprimanding a child. “Tenzin told you to accept who you are. Honor him and heed his advice.”

I shut up and listened. Talking about Tenzin had been hard enough. Now, Sun Tzu was using that against me. Well, it may have been for my own good, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

“Okay, so I have this power,” I said with a self-defeated tone. “Now what?”

Sun Tzu’s eyes softened. “You must understand the nature of your power. When lost, one must retrace one’s steps and start the journey anew. You must learn who you are again.”

“You got the power,” Amaymon said. “Once you understand it, you can control it.”

“And how do I do that?” I asked.

“Call me when you find out,” he said as he raised his shoulders.

I sighed.

Basically, I had to understand a power I knew nothing about, without any outside help or clues of any kind.

Oh, and I had to solve it quickly, because according to Amaymon and Mephisto, without this power, we had no chance against the Sins.

Hold my calls, this might take a while.

“Perhaps you could ask your sibling for advice,” Sun Tzu said. “I am certain that, as your twin, she must be experiencing a similar flux of power herself. Remember, this power affects both of you.”

“I’m not exactly on the best of terms with her,” I replied. “This discussion might just send us back to hating each other’s guts.”

“But you must look past your differences,” he insisted. “This is no time for petty squabbles. The fate of the universe is at stake.”

“Geez, okay, okay,” I said, taken back. “I’ll talk to her.”

Sun Tzu calmed down. Not that he had moved or indicated any change in his serene composure. It was the aura around him—it went from calm, to highly aggressive, to peaceful again.

Amaymon tutted. Sun Tzu shot him a look, and the demon’s eyes clearly indicated that he had discovered some insight as to Sun Tzu’s nature but intended on keeping it to himself.

“Speaking of ice,” Amaymon said, breaking the sudden tension. “What happened once you thawed out? How’d you make it down the mountain?”

I nodded. That was the hint: change the subject before things get too bad. And I did not want to mess with Sun Tzu. Never, ever, screw around with old kung-fu guys. It rarely ends well.

“Same way I got there,” I said. “I walked.”

***

Approximately 8 years ago

I did not stop by the mansion on my way back to the city. I had seen enough pain and destruction and had no desire to see any more. Gil had made it clear that I wasn’t welcome there—not that I would have returned.

I wanted to get out of that forest. I wanted—no, I needed—to detach myself from that power.

Never again, I thought.

I would never experience that again, so long as I got the hell away from Trinity and Gil, the mansion, and the whole can of worms.

I would go back to the city and start fresh.

Tenzin had inspired me to do what he did. I could wander around helping others. There were plenty of monsters so I might as well use my power for some good. God knows there were better Warlocks than me, but they all did it for profit.

No, I decided, I will not be like that. I will not be a Warlock. I will be my own person, just a guy with some magic and a shiny sword. And I won’t make money my priority. I will carry out Tenzin’s legacy instead.

Doing kindness for the sake of kindness.

Heck, someone had to be the good guy, and I didn’t see anyone else stepping up. Someone had to protect the underdog.

I could fight for them, make sure that monsters didn’t take away their lives and families like Crowley and Dad did mine.

I was powerful, and I could choose to do the right thing.

Not a lot of sixteen-year-olds say that. But as I said before, I didn’t fall into the ‘normal’ category. It felt good to come to that conclusion, it felt right.

This was my calling, and I accepted it.

The opportunity came about two weeks later. Call it whatever you want: divine intervention, luck, probability.

I called it catching a break.

He was the owner of several clubs around the city. I distinctly remember him from my night escapades when I used to sneak out for a bit of fun.

This particular club was more of a lounge, and a crappy one at that. The place was a mess and a half, with termite-ridden furniture, cracked walls, and a paint job from World War One.

He told me it hadn’t been used in years, decades even. He had inherited it, like he had with the other clubs, but it was too far from populated areas and just too damn small. The owner was in a ton of debt already, so he couldn’t afford to upgrade it. Two clubs were enough, he had said.

So he was looking to get rid of the place. He said it would make a nice office, if my standards weren’t too high. Only problem was, he couldn’t get rid of the place yet.

Not when a family of poltergeists had taken up residence.

And that was where I came into the picture. I had told him I’d take care of it. He wanted to call Child Protective Services. I showed him Djinn. He told me all about the place and left me to my devices.

Turns out, I didn’t need a friendly magical dog—I had a glowing magic sword.

I’m not going to recount every single detail of the event, but the gist of it was I won and the poltergeists lost. Not that they had presented much of a challenge. Some of them tried to fight; most just panicked.

The worst part was the noise. Why is it that guys who can’t handle themselves always yell the loudest?

By the time I was finished with them, only an antique boom box remained, which had MC Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” looping through it. I’m not one for rap music, but after the second “Stop! Hammer time,” I began to appreciate that eighty’s classic.

Besides, it drowned the poltergeists’ incessant yelling, which was a bonus.

I later find out that the guy who hired me had been in league with the damn things all along. He had no money to pay me with, as he never expected me to make it out in one piece. So, I pinned him down, did a light show with Djinn, and demanded he change his ways or I’d come find him.

The guy wet himself.

Then I asked for payment. He had none. But he was a businessman, so he cut me a deal.

“Take the place,” he had said. “It’s yours.”

I remember looking around and wrinkling my nose. This place was a dump. But then again, I needed a place to stay, and nothing would ever be as glamorous as the mansion.

I looked at it again with new eyes. This place was well suited for me. Like me, it needed to start over.

It’s amazing what a little bit of perspective does.

“I’ll take it,” I had said as I threw him out.

I remember spending half an hour just staring at the place, until I no longer saw a piece of crap, but the opportunity for a future.

A base of operations, I thought. For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile stretched on my lips.

Welcome home, Erik.

Chapter 43

Now

The twinkle in Sun Tzu’s eyes was evident.

“Doing good for the sake of it,” he said. Even from his seated position, he managed a slight bow. “My friend, you have earned even more of my respect today. I am proud of you, as I am sure Tenzin is in the afterlife.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I felt my cheeks flush. Damn old man was going to make me cry.

The ever-empathic Amaymon, completely oblivious to our moment of sentiment, jumped up and down in his chair like a hyperactive five-year-old.

“Oh, oh,” he hollered. “My turn, my turn. Tell him about when your sister brought me over for the first time.” He chuckled and leaned over to Sun Tzu.

“You’re gonna love this one, Gramps,” he said gleefully, completely ignoring the uncomfortable look Sun Tzu was giving him. “I star in this one.”

“No, you don’t,” I shot back.

“Yeah, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah! I do!”

“You don’t!”

“I do,” he insisted.

“Dude, I’m a freakin’ adult,” I said. “Are we really doing this?”

“Just tell the damn story.”

***

Approximately 8 years ago

The place was still in shambles when Gil showed up. I had just put up a new door and started a paint job.

Money had become a problem.

I did favors and jobs for people around the area. It seemed monsters and horrors were aplenty in this town. Sometimes, I traded my services for supplies, other times I earned enough money to buy what I needed.

Word soon spread about some kid who took care of supernatural problems. Most of the time, it was superstitious idiots who wanted a light show or just to challenge me. I got money up front whenever I could, especially if I thought they were trying to con me.

The place was still barren, with not even so much as a picture or a stick of furniture. I’d bought a mattress for eight bucks and put it in whichever room or corner the paint fumes didn’t reach. I lived off two sandwiches a day and in complete solitude.

But I was happy. This situation was only temporary. I never lost sight of the big picture—this was my new home. For once, I was in control of what I did. From here on out I would call my own shots.

So, you can imagine how thrilled I was when I thought I’d gotten my first client at the door.

The doorbell, freshly bought a couple of days before, rang, and I skipped through planks of wood and cans of paint to answer it. My very first client. This was officially the start of my business. I opened the door to reveal my sister standing in the afternoon sun, holding a black cat in her arms.

“Hello, brother.”

My enthusiasm died faster than you could say ‘let down’.

“Ah, hell.”

“Happy housewarming.” She lifted the cat and literally threw it at me. The feline latched onto my arms and let out a sad meow.

“You bought me a cat?” I asked, confused, as I tried to keep the cat from tearing my shirt to shreds. It calmed down and seemed content with just curling in my arms like an infant. “What’s her name?”

“I’m a guy, dude.”

Gil wasn’t the one who answered me. I looked down at the cat. There was something about that voice, that cockiness. Where had I heard it before?

I remembered the wooden carving of a cat, remarkably similar to the one in my arms.

“Amaymon?”

“S’up,” he said as he licked his paw.

I held the cat in my outstretched hands. “You brought me a demon?” I asked Gil exasperatedly.

She shrugged, hiding a grin. “You remember our deal with Mephisto? I can’t have two demons running amuck in one house, Erik. Besides, that thing’s a menace,” she said, glaring at the cat.

“Meow,” the cat cutely replied.

Gil glared some more. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

Amaymon meowed again and a vein on Gil’s neck throbbed. I had to admit, the cat was scoring points like mad.

“If you don’t want him, Erik,” she said, “I can always throw him in the nearest pool and leave him to drown. We technically upheld our end of the bargain with Mephisto. What happens to Amaymon after his release is not our concern.”

Amaymon shook violently and managed to wrap himself around my arm. I let go in shock, but he clung to my shoulder in despair.

“Please. I’ll behave, I’ll behave, I swear,” he begged. “Just get me away from the psycho broad.”

Gil tutted and that vein throbbed again. She searched in her pocket and extracted a silver pendant with a ruby.

“Your call, Erik,” she said, dangling the pendant like a hypnotist’s pocket watch.

Judging by the power I felt from that thing, it was probably the key to this demon’s powers. Whoever controlled that controlled the demon himself.

I snatched it from her. “I’ll keep him.”

Possibilities were already going through my head. A demon familiar, particularly one who owed me a huge favor, would be extremely helpful. That is, if I could keep him in check. At the very least, I’ll stop talking to myself.

I invited Gil in. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of paint but said nothing. She didn’t even complain when I sat her on a cardboard box and took another as my seat while using a third to hold our coffee mugs. Amaymon had found a bag of Doritos and ripped it open.

“Nice place,” she said. I heard the sarcasm emanating from her voice.

“I know,” I shot back.

Her eyes narrowed. “Rumor has it that a superhero has appeared in Eureka. Some teenager with a glowing blue sword and a Ghostbusters act.”

“I tried to get Spiderman but the flights from New York are a bitch,” I replied.

“What the hell are you doing, Erik?” she asked seriously.

“Oh, you know, just the usual,” I replied nonchalantly. “Started a business, killed some monsters, saved the day. Just your run-of-the-mill superhero stuff. Minus the spandex and the cape.”

I leaned forward.

“Why the questions, Gil? You got a problem with my newfound independence?” I asked darkly.

“I don’t give a damn what you do, Erik,” she said coolly. “It’s not like you’ll be interfering with my business ventures.” Her eyes darkened. “They, however, may not share my opinion.”

“They?”

“Yes. They. The authorities. The big guns. The ones truly in control.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She let out a chuckle. “Listen up, brother, because I am only going to say this once. I may even be killed for revealing their existence but I suppose you have earned the right to know. Think of it as a peace offering.”

She fidgeted in her seat. “Do you remember when Mephisto once mentioned laws for the magical world?”

I nodded.

“At the time, I thought it was only a set of command rules, like a code of ethics, to keep us from spiraling into chaos. But I was wrong. There exists a council of ten wizards who have set rules in place. They roam the plane, always vigilant.”

Gil visibly shuddered.

“They are called the Grigori, a council of ten wizards, each powerful enough to level a city if they so wished. These are the people who set the standards for magic users as well as the limitations. They created these laws and summarily deal with anyone who refuses to toe the line. No one knows what these rules are, or how far their limitations go. I suspect their laws only apply to the most dangerous corners of magic. Public knowledge may inspire certain lunatics to vie for the attention of the Grigori by attaining such power. But I do know of one rule: the existence of the Grigori must never be revealed.”

She smiled. “That is, unless it is by a member of the Grigori themselves.”

My eyes widened. “So, you’re a member of this council now?”

“Not quite,” she replied. “More of an honorary member. Our ancestor, who led the assault on Hell, was one such member. All the Heads of Household, even our father, held an honorary position amongst the council. It was the Grigori who set the rule that Warlocks are not to alter other planes of existence. Some time ago, a council member extended me the offer of honorary membership. But unlike our ancestors, I intend to become a full-fledged member.”

“Awesome,” I said sarcastically. “You wanna join a team of super executioners. Good luck.”

“These are the wizards who control and regulate all others. They are the sculptors of continents and puppeteers of civilizations.” There was a twinkle was in her eye. “I want to be the most powerful I can be without resorting to the unscrupulous methods of our father and those before him.”

“Huh. Yeah, like that can happen,” I said sarcastically.

“It can and it will,” she replied vehemently. “Because I will it so.”

“Look at you, already got the attitude of a… what was it?” I said mockingly.

“Sculptor of continents and puppeteer of civilizations,” Amaymon supplied.

“What he said.”

“I don’t have to justify my actions to you, Erik,” she replied coolly. “But you are missing the point.”

“Yeah? And what would that be?”

“I mentioned that a Grigori member personally contacted me. Doesn’t that strike you as strange? I mean, sure, an invitation of such merit is not something to be done over the phone, but they do have messengers and errand boys,” she said.

“Get to the point, Gil.”

“The point is, brother,” she said, “that your actions with Dad and Crowley and all this ‘save the innocent’ drivel has put you on their radar. The council member was here because of you. It was only out of courtesy and luck that he stopped by the mansion first.”

“Really? How is that lucky?”

“Because I accepted the invitation,” she replied with glee. “This entire area is officially under my jurisdiction now, including you. Which means, if you mess up, the Grigori will come after my head before coming after yours.”

“So, what am I supposed to do, ask for your permission before doing something?” I asked as my temper started rising.

Here she goes, trying to control my life. Well, I wasn’t having any of it.

“I don’t care about any of this crap, Gil. I’m gonna do my thing. If the Grigori have a problem with that, let ‘em come.”

Gil rose to leave. “Even if it means endangering your sister?”

“I know you, Gil,” I replied. “You’re smart—smarter than anyone I know. I’m sure you can cover your ass.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I will not interfere unless I have to. And remember, this conversation never happened.”

“Grigori who?” I said as I walked her to the door.

She turned towards me. “You know, you make one good Warlock, Erik. Pity we are in this situation.”

“Yeah, pity,” I replied. “But you’re wrong on one thing, Gil. I’m no Warlock.”

“Oh?”

“I’m just a guy with a glowing sword and a Ghostbusters act,” I replied. “Say hi to Satan for me.”

I shut the door in her face and smiled.

Erik, one; Gil, zero.

It felt good to be a badass.

Chapter 44

Now

I settled the glass back down. It was completely empty. There were still a couple of shots left in the bottle, but they did not call out to me.

“After that, it’s pretty much history,” I said. “Amaymon and I took cases, helping out wherever we could. Then, nearly a year ago, Jehudiel showed up and told us about Abi. I found out about the Sins and the angels warring against them. This is the prologue of a war between Heaven and Hell, and my sister chose the Heaven side.”

“Do you intend to make the same choice as Gil?” Sun Tzu asked.

“You mean, do I intend take sides?” I asked. “No. My side is this one, Earth. If the tables were turned, and Heaven was the one who wanted to conquer, then I’d kick their  feathery asses just the same.”

Sun Tzu said nothing but nodded. There was no judgment in his eyes; only respect.

And there it was, my life story, finished.

A myriad of feelings went through me, and something like a panic attack threatened to overtake me. I was so distracted by the whole thing that I didn’t feel Abi sneaking up behind me.

“Guess who?” she said as I felt her hands on my shoulder.

My hand was already on Djinn’s handle but the sound of her voice saved her from getting stabbed. I turned around, ready to reprimand her, and saw nothing. I felt her hand on my shoulder, the heat coming from her body, and heard the sound of her breathing, stifling a giggling, but I couldn’t see her.

“What the-”

She appeared suddenly, making me jump in my seat. The damn redhead was laughing her head off.

“Not cute,” I said as I tried, and failed, to maintain some dignity.

“You should have seen your face,” she said in between laughs.

“So, what do you think?” she asked once her laughing fit ceased. “I learned a couple of tricks.”

“Yeah? Like what?” I asked.

“I’m part succubus, right?” she answered. “Which means I can play around with minds and make them all foggy and lusty. But because I’m a hybrid and can also use magic, I can take that a step further. I can create illusions, mess with senses, send messages, read personalities and,” she said with glee, “check this out.”

She pointed at the table and concentrated. One of the bottles levitated a quarter of an inch before wobbling and pathetically toppling over.

Amaymon pointed at the bottle. “Did something happen?”

Abi shot him a dark look. “It’s still a work in progress,” she pouted. “After managing that telekinetic pull on the stop sign, I kept trying to fine-tune that power. Seems I can only pull it off when I’m in real danger.” Her expression brightened. “But hey, I snuck up on Erik. That’s got to earn me some points.”

“He ain’t exactly the most focused person right now,” replied the demon.

Abi looked at me. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I said, waving her off. “Just a bit of therapy.”

“Erik just shared his background with us,” Sun Tzu interjected.

“Oh,” she said. “I wanted to hear that.”

“I’m sorry, Abi, but once was hard enough,” I said.

“Oh,” she said, partially crestfallen. Then her mood brightened up. “Don’t worry about it, the cat will fill me in.”

Amaymon winked at her. “Sure, I will, babe,” he said with a sleazy tone. “In whichever way you want.”

I felt my stomach turn, but Abi calmly looked at him and reached behind her.

“Hey, kitty, how would you like a stick up your ass?” she said. A little golden rod in her hand expanded until it reached two feet in length.

I let out a low whistle.

“Got the king, huh?” I said.

I extracted Djinn and tapped the rod. “Yep, real gold,” I commented.

Abi waved around her new toy and pointed it at my familiar. “If I hear one ‘rod’ joke out of you, I’m caving your skull in.”

Amaymon smiled and raised his hands in mock innocence.

“According to the fable Journey to the West,” Sun Tzu said, “the Monkey King was a master of transformation with more than seventy different shapes. That appears to be the main ability of your weapon, Abigail. For now, at least.”

The rod shrunk back to fit in her palm. “Yeah,” she said. “I can play around with length for now, but I’m psyched to figure out what else it can do.”

The Asian man smiled at her energy and enthusiasm. “And I am sure you will, with sufficient practice.”

“Yeah, we got a lot of training left ahead of us,” I said. Although, in comparison, hers would be easier than mine. She wouldn’t have to relearn everything from scratch. Sometimes, it pays to know nothing and be open to learning new stuff.

I still remembered the basic lessons of magic that Mephisto had taught us. In a strange twist of fate, neither I, nor my apprentice, were bound by such strict methods. For us, it was all about intention, which is the true key to any spell. Having our own personal channels meant we could bypass all the catalysts and incantations. True, it did require more concentration and unwavering focus on our part, but that was exactly why we needed the practice.

I glanced at Abi and wondered. Her mind was her catalyst; as long as she willed it she had the potential to do anything. That was one scary power to have. Thank the stars there weren’t many evil hybrids around or I’d be in some deep shit.

On the other hand, my own magic wasn’t anything to scoff at. If Amaymon and Sun Tzu were right, I had power over the blueprints of life.

That was utterly terrifying and awesome.

Perhaps there was a reason why she was my student—a unique wizard teaching a unique apprentice. Fate does, indeed, work in mysterious ways.

Abi toyed with her new weapon, which had shrunk down to the size of a small chopstick. “I wonder how to carry this thing. Does it magically appear in my hands whenever I need it?”

“Yes, but it is far quicker and more practical to just carry it on your person,” Sun Tzu replied patiently. “The original Sun Wo Kung used to carry the staff as a toothpick, placing it behind his ear or between his teeth.”

Abi’s face twisted slightly. “Ew. Put him in my mouth? Bleh.”

I felt myself grinning, and I tried my best to stifle a laugh. For a succubus, she was really naïve about perverted innuendoes.

She saw me and realized her mistake. “That came out wrong,” she said in a tone of self-defeat.

I nodded and kept smiling. She rolled her eyes at me and pulled her hair back. After some twisting, the little length of gold was skewering the knot, holding her hair in place. She looked happy with herself.

She looked well, my apprentice. She had just defeated her first major challenge, obtained a weapon which would aid her for the rest of her life, and proved to me that she was no longer just another girl. She had become a wizard, or rather, a witch. Whatever the title, she had grown so much in these last months. I’d never thought I would take on a student. I felt I wasn’t ready, or worthy, to teach anyone anything. That was why I let Amaymon teach her the majority of what she knew. I still had unfinished business with Tenzin, which I had put off for years. I suppose now, after having made the thing public, I was supposed to feel better.

But I didn’t.

I still had one last thing to do, one last piece of business to resolve everything and move on.

“Are you going somewhere?” she asked as I rose from my seat.

“Yeah. Just remembered something I gotta do.”

I looked at each of them in turn. Sun Tzu nodded, understanding my intention. Amaymon dismissed me with his yellow eyes.

“Okay, I’ll come with you,” she said.

I held up my hand. “Nah, I gotta do this alone. Personal stuff.”

She gave me a quizzical look but said nothing. In fact, she raised her eyebrows and backed up.

“Amaymon, you stay here and make sure she gets back okay,” I ordered the familiar.

“Hey, I don’t need a babysitter,” Abi shot back.

“It’s not babysitting. I just need someone to make sure he doesn’t burn the place down while he’s alone,” I explained.

She gave me a look.

I really needed to come up with some better excuses.

“He’s got a story to tell you,” I said. She still said nothing, but her expression softened.

“Yay, I get the girl,” Amaymon yelped. He jumped off the chair, morphed into a cat and leapt onto her.

“Hey, watch it. You’re not as light as you think you are,” she said, trying not to drop the feline dangling from her chest.

Amaymon adjusted himself as she cradled him. “Never, ever, comment about my weight,” he said.

I smiled at the scene, spun, and left.

Chapter 45

The drive home was an empty experience. No radio, no music—just me and an open window. I was so immersed in my thoughts that I barely heard the other cars.

You’d think that after three bottles I shouldn’t be driving.

Get off my case.

I’ve walked away from gunshots, stab wounds, impalement, dismemberment, and being thrown off a hospital building, of all places. And that was just this year. When you had healing powers like mine, alcohol wasn’t really an issue.

Without Amaymon to greet me with a prank or just some good old-fashioned sarcasm, my office was strangely peaceful. It was no longer the dump I had gotten all those years ago, and Abi went out of her way to pretty it up. But the sound of silence remained unchanged throughout all these years. This place was exactly like me. We had changed, but deep down, there were still some issues yet unresolved.

Time to deal with some skeletons, I thought.

I walked over to my basement door and descended a narrow set of steps into a small room full of junk. Mostly it was just the cat that came down here and I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a stash of Playboys hidden behind the beakers and test tubes. I hadn’t used the potion tables down here in years, and mostly kept the stuff out of nostalgia or for Abi’s sake.

At the far end of the basement stood a single aluminum shelf piled with books and other junk. I reached inside a tupperware box full of trinkets and felt around. My fingers clamped around a black-lacquered box and opened it. For the first time in years, I held the good luck charm Tenzin had left me.

I stared at the burnt symbol. When it met my magic, the shelf moved to the right, bumping gently against the wall. It exposed a barren section of the wall with a large painted circle and the kanji for ‘gate’ inscribed in the middle.

A prayer, written in kanji, surrounded the circle, the characters providing an air of esotericism.

I channeled magic from the talisman to the symbol on the wall. I had constructed this mechanism with the talisman acting as a key but I had never tested it before. I just couldn’t face it.

A portal of light appeared inside the circle, and I stepped in.

I went through the portal to a grassy plane. The smell of fresh grass and the gentle wind brought back memories.

The pocket universe was much, much smaller, with only a field and a hill remaining, but it was still a paradise. Over the years the tiny shard that remained of this place, the minute amount of energy Tenzin had left me, grew like a seedling, slowly feeding off the energy I poured into it. My office was akin to a magic incubator, perfect for something like this.

Something glinted in the sun at the top of the hill, and I made my way up. At the topmost point was a five foot rectangular block of crystal, its sides angled to catch the light —a monument I made in Tenzin’s honor. It was a very tough process to crystallize that much stone but the end result was perfect.

Transparent, jagged around the edges, and always full of light—just like Tenzin.

I knelt respectfully in front of his monument and muttered the prayer he had taught me all those years ago.

There was no holding back the tears. I cried over his tombstone until I felt empty inside. All the grief, all the times I had missed him or wished he were there to guide me. I poured out all my emotions in one fell swoop. I needed him against the Sins. I needed him because he was a decent guy, and the world needed more of his kind.

I needed him because he loved me like a father and I loved him back like a son.

But I had to let go. I had to move on. I came here to conclude, not remain stuck in the gray swampy middle. A conclusion but not an end.

Never an end.

I stood.

“Thank you,” I said.

I was never more sincere or more heartfelt in my life. I bent down and kissed the crystal. Light shimmered inside it. It was alive, the whole place was.

“I’ll make you proud,” I promised. My head dipped in a slight bow and I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Despite the crying, I did feel better. I felt lighter and ready. With renewed spirit, I found the inner strength to turn and walk away from the tombstone and all the way down to the grassy field.

I exited the portal and willed it shut. The aluminum shelf slid back in place.

My cell phone vibrated inside my coat pocket and I fished it out.

“Yeah?” I said as I looked at the symbol burnt on the talisman. I felt something like inner peace in the depths of my soul.

A familiar voice crackled from the other end.

“Hello, brother.”

READY FOR MORE?

You’ve reached the end of this story but Erik’s adventure isn’t over yet. Check out the other books in the Legacy series.

BOOK 1: FIRSTBORN

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BOOK 3: LOST ONES

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http://ryanattard.com

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Thank you for reading.

You might also enjoy my other series The Pandora Chronicles.

THE PANDORA CHRONICLES

BOOK 1

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ryan Attard is the author of the Legacy series, The Pandora Chronicles and, as of recently, Evil Plan Inc. When not tormenting his protagonists or ruling over his imaginary worlds, Ryan can be found within the confines of his house on an island far, far away, either geeking out about the latest book or manga chapter he read, or a television show he just finished watching.

He can also be found spewing his opinions and telling terrible jokes on his weekly podcast, The Lurking Voice podcast, which can be found through his website (although if you are easily offended you should definitely not listen).

He is also the kind of person who writes about himself in the third person.

Email: ryanattardauthor@gmail.com

Website: http://ryanattard.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Enkousama