Broken

by Ryan Attard

The beer came two seconds later. And no, I didn’t. It was beer and it was cold. That’s all I’ll say about that.

  Abi took a swig, clearly enjoying the hipster crap. “So, what brought this on?”

  “What?” I said. “Just wanted to go out for a drink.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, I get that. The fancy place, the craft brew, the fact we’re doing this in the middle of the week—that I don’t get. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Did something happen with the shrink?” She scowled. “I never liked that bitch.”

  “You recommended her,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t know she was that hot.”

  “And that’s an issue?”

  She opened her mouth and closed it again. “Well… no, I suppose… whatever.”

  “Succinct,” I said. “But no, nothing happened. She actually said something that made me think I was wasting my second chance at life.”

  “Yeah, right,” Abi said. “We’re saving lives. How is that wasting your life?”

  “Well, it’s all I’ve ever known, Abi,” I said. “Maybe it’s time I did something else.”

  “You wanna quit?”

  “No,” I said. “That’s not what I meant. But maybe I need to have, like, a hobby.”

  Abi choked on her beer. “You, a hobby? But you hate everything.”

  I forced down a swig of beer. “No, I don’t. Admittedly, the list of things I do like is pretty slim, but no one hates everything.” I blinked at her several times. “Right?”

  Abi burst out laughing. It was a good laugh. I smiled, and for a second I dared to think that maybe this was a good idea.

  I looked at my beer, watched as the liquid sloshed inside the bottle. Bubbles formed and popped, mesmerizing me into a trance.

  I felt it more than I saw it. I was suddenly looking at the two of us from behind, watching as Abi and a second Erik were sitting exactly where I had been sitting seconds ago, laughing.

  Something pulled at my senses, a cry for help. It was quiet and dulled, more like a whimper than a shout. I followed it, scanning the pub for the origin.

  I found it inside a young woman, possibly in her early twenties, hunched over the bar, staring at her drink. I didn’t need my powers to tell me she was fighting some inner demons.

  The guy next to her was oblivious as he enthusiastically hit on her.

  I thought nothing of it. It was just your typical bar scenario, nothing too bad. Soon she’ll tell him to fuck off and he’ll get sad, then drunk, and then he’ll find someone else to hit on.

  Only she never spoke. Her eyes blinked and her hands shifted sluggishly, and that’s when I saw the guy shove something back in his pocket.

  In my astral form I saw a tiny dot of black dissolving in her glass, and spreading all over her body as she drank from the tainted drink.

  “Erik?”

  I jerked upright, eyes wide open. My lungs hurt and I realized I had been holding my breath this entire time.

  Abi had that look in her eyes, an expression that said she meant business.

  “What is it?”

  “I phased in astral form,” I explained. I swung around and locked eyes on the couple. “And I just saw that guy spike the girl’s drink.”

  Abi glared at them.

  “I’ll get a bartender,” she said. “You go do what you have to do.”

  Chapter 6

  I grabbed the guy’s arm as he caressed the drugged girl’s back. Instantly his eyes flashed in that alpha male anger, and he stood up. We were about the same height, but he was skinnier. It wouldn’t have mattered either way. I had faced all sorts of monsters and this idiot had nothing on them.

  “You know, pal, if your personality ain’t cutting it, maybe you should just move on,” I told him.

  Behind me I heard several chairs shift.

  Of course, the rest of the posse.

  Guys like this were never alone. It was all about the conquest, and whom better to show off to than dull-brained mouth-breathing followers.

  Abi arrived with a petite bartender with cute freckles. Her name tag said Michelle.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Get this young lady a cab home,” I told the bartender, never taking my eyes off the guy. He quivered in place—I could practically feel the waves of hatred coming off of him.

  “There’s no need for that,” he said. “I can take her home.”

  “Yeah, I bet you can,” I said.

  “What’s it to you, asshole?” he shot. “I’m her boyfriend.”

  “No, you’re not,” I said. “You’re just a piece of shit with access to GHB.”

  From my peripheral vision I saw Abi and Michelle help the young woman up. She could barely stand on her feet.

  “Get her home,” Abi said.

  I felt a pulse of magic emanating from her, as she used the smallest amount of psychic magic to help the girl counter the drug in her system.

  Michelle took one last look at me as I confronted the guy.

  “I’ll get security,” she said, as she dragged the girl away.

  “Yeah, you do that,” I said, still eyeballing the guy.

  I felt Abi shift behind me, while the rest of the posse, four in total including the would-be date-rapist, faced up to us.

  Then the guy lifted his shirt, slowly and deliberately, just enough for me to see the revolver handle stick out of his pants, gangster-style.

  He sneered: “Outside.”

  I cocked my head. “You really don’t wanna do this,” I said.

  He leaned in until I could practically taste the liquor on his breath. “Fuck yeah, I do. Outside. Now.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  There was a park right across the pub and that’s where we headed. It was dark out, and with a storm brewing barely anyone was around to witness the fight.

  Good. Less chance of innocents getting caught in the crossfire.

  Abi squared off to the side, far enough to be safe, but tactically in a position to leap in should it come to that. Meanwhile the rest of them formed a very idiotic line behind their leader, who whipped out a Smith and Wesson and pointed it straight at me.

  In that split second I could have disarmed him. Hell, I could have done that in the bar, or on the way here. Krav Maga was excellent for that. Then again, I suspected that even one good elbow shot would have put this guy down.

  But I didn’t.

  Something told me to challenge him, to let him pull out that gun and stick it in my face. A voice at the back of my head warned me that my healing powers were slightly off-key, that maybe testing them with a bullet to the head might not be the smartest thing I had ever thought of—but I ignored all that.

  Instead I was filled with excitement, the thrill of being alive. I’m not an adrenaline junkie, not usually, so I had no clue how to deal with this situation.

  The guy must have sensed my hesitation because he smiled.

  “What’s wrong, tough guy? Where’d your balls go?” He pressed the gun hard against my forehead, holding it in an overhand grip. “Or maybe you’re just tough when there are witnesses?”

  His eyes swiveled toward Abi.

  “Fine piece of ass,” he told me. “Maybe I’ll take care of her once I’m done with you.”

  It would have been so easy to just draw Djinn and cut his hand off. Or pull out my gun—a pistol twice as large as his piece and with a Behemoth-type demon’s ectoplasm inside—and scare the piss out of him.

  Instead I rolled my eyes.

  “Just shut the fuck up and do it already,” I said.

  The guy blinked. “What?”

  I pushed my head forwards.

  “Do. It,” I said. “Would you like me to translate that from English to Dumbass for you?”

  “Bitch, I will blow your brains out.”

  “Do it, then, bitch,” I responded. “Do it. Think of how my brain is gonna explode. One pull on that trigger. And then
all that blood splattered all over you. Think of the smell. The wet sloppy disgusting viscera that was once my head, draped all over that ugly-ass outfit you have on.”

  The gun started shaking in his hands.

  “Or maybe you’re all talk,” I pressed on. “Maybe you just wave that thing about because your dick is small, and you can only get it up with passed-out chicks. Have you ever killed anyone, kid?”

  “Shut up-”

  “ANSWER ME!” I roared.

  The guy took a step back, the gun warbling from side to side. “Yeah, I have.”

  “Bullshit,” I said. “You never watched someone die. You never had the balls to shoot. So put that thing away before you do something really stupid, and fuck off back home. While you still can.”

  The guy shot his friends a look but they were similarly dumbfounded.

  And that’s when Abi struck.

  Her forearm crushed a guy’s throat, sending him straight down.

  The gunman turned but I was already swatting the weapon away from his hand. The gun went off as it flew from his grip and landed in a puddle of water. I followed with an elbow, which missed the critical hit when he shifted his head. I kicked backwards, catching a second guy’s knee cap. His scream was abrupt but satisfying.

  At the same time, I fired two punches at the guy, one to stop him from hitting me, the other to break his nose. His eyes watered, and I knew from my own experience that his ears were ringing, stunning him for just enough time for me to go into a wrist lock. His hand made a scrunching sound. He stared at the back of his wrist, and I elbowed him again.

  And what do you know, I was right. The guy had a glass jaw.

  “Erik, behind you!”

  I followed Abi’s cry and saw one of the guys reaching for the gun. It was too far away for me, but I felt contact. My magic reached out as the thug aimed the weapon at me.

  Normally I can’t use magic, not without a channel, but a shadow tendril shot forwards nonetheless. It wrapped itself around the gun just as it fired a second time.

  The shadow caught the bullet, harmlessly expelling it to the ground.

  I felt the magic interact with the forces of heat and energy, taking the minute explosion of the bullet and amplifying it as it wrapped around the gun.

  The guy screamed as the Smith and Wesson bubbled and boiled and melted in his hands. His skin seared off and he struggled to peel the molten metal away, tearing away chunks of flesh.

  I’ll never forget the look he gave me, the horror and fear in his eyes. Right there and then I understood why mortals hunted witches, why they refused to believe in the supernatural when it was right under their noses, and why they insisted that God (or any deity) protect them.

  We reminded vanilla humans that they were not at the top of the food chain.

  The guy ran off just as the first police sirens wailed in the distance.

  Abi grabbed my arm.

  “Come on,” she urged.

  We ran off, going around the block until both of us were panting.

  “What the fuck, Erik?” she began. Clearly she wasn’t as out of breath as I was. “You were goading him!”

  “I was trying to scare him,” I retorted. “Which I did. They would have left but you had to interfere.”

  “You couldn’t know that,” she said. “You took a risk. And for what? Just to prove you’re still tough, despite your powers failing?”

  “They haven’t failed,” I said. “I’m still me.”

  “Why did you use magic on the guy, then? I thought we had a rule: no magic on mortals.”

  I gritted my teeth. She was right. I never meant to use magic, and that shadow—that living embodiment of my curse—only came out when I was either facing a Sin, or a creature of that caliber.

  Not some half-scared thug with a revolver.

  “I- I don’t know,” I said. “I just reacted.”

  “It was reckless.”

  “So was starting the fight, Abi,” I snapped. “You’re not a vigilante anymore. You don’t have anything to prove.”

  She scoffed and flicked off a strand of red hair.

  “Fine piece of advice, Erik,” she said, storming off. “Maybe you should try it yourself.”

  Chapter 7

  Abi was still mad by the time we made it back home, and both of us were too tired for another round. I only managed a few hours’ sleep—although it was more like passing out by this point—when I heard a loud knock on the door.

  “Dumbass,” Amaymon called. “Door!”

  I smushed my head into the pillow. “Get Abi!” I yelled back.

  “She’s away.”

  “Fucking community college,” I grumbled as I got up and put on some clothes.

  Roland cocked his head at my appearance when I opened the door.

  “Rough night?”

  I rubbed my eyes. “What are you doing here? You never come to my place.”

  “Well, I’ve always wanted to get a look at the dragon’s den,” he replied, amused.

  I scowled and waved him inside. He held up his hand.

  “No time,” he said. “We need to get moving.”

  That elicited a second scowl. “Can I at least get some coffee in me?”

  “I wouldn’t,” he said, face scrunched in disgust. “He struck again, Erik. Whoever ripped Vega to shreds did it again last night. And this time they didn’t stop at just one.”

  All grogginess evaporated as my heart started beating rapidly, drumming in my chest.

  I gave Roland a nod. “I’ll get my stuff.”

  When the car finally stopped, I found myself staring at a familiar sight.

  The pub was cordoned off with the usual police tape, along with the park in front of it and the entire chunk of road in between them.

  And for good reason.

  There was white chalk everywhere, circling bits of human flesh and viscera. The road was slick and glossy, almost as if there had been a massive water balloon fight. I was no expert but I could tell from the blood that this crime had happened less than twelve hours ago. Or less, judging by my own experience with it only a couple of hours before.

  “Holy shit,” I said.

  “You know the place?” Roland asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied, not taking my eyes off the chaos of gore. “I was just here yesterday. Must have missed the guy by an hour or two.”

  I saw Roland give me a sideways glance.

  “What” I asked.

  “There’s one more thing,” he said. “I think we better go inside.”

  He led me inside the bar, where we shimmied around CSI personnel taking pictures and samples. Sitting on a bar stool was Michelle, the bartender whom I had asked to take the drugged girl home. A female cop was taking her statement when she looked up and saw me.

  Michelle flew from her seat and before I knew what was happening she was hugging me tightly and rambling in Spanish.

  “Whoa,” I said, peeling her away from me. “What the hell?”

  The woman started sobbing and smiling at the same time. “You saved me,” she said. “I am alive because of you.”

  “She made the call,” Roland said. “And told us specifically to speak to—and I quote—‘the wizard’. I’m guessing that’s you.”

  I held Michelle at arm's length. “What happened here?”

  “Oh, it was horrible,” she wailed. “All those people, dead. No warning, no demands. He just came and started killing everyone at random.”

  “Who?”

  Her look of terror spoke volumes.

  “He was large, bigger than any man I have ever seen before, and he was covered in living shadow,” she said. “Armor. Yes, he had massive armor on him, like a knight. And his sword was big too. Big as he was. And his red eyes—such malice and hatred in them.”

  She dabbed her eyes with her sleeve.

  “I have never seen such violence,” she said in between sobs. “He came in, and started killing. No warning.” She met my eyes. “But I felt the
anger coming out of him. It was a demon, a nightmare come to life.”

  Roland cocked his head towards me. “Sounds like the same guy.”

  I nodded and turned back to Michelle.

  “Why did you ask the police to speak to me?”

  She sniffed. “I’m sorry. I know you are in trouble because of it, but the demon spoke to me before he left.”

  That caught my attention. “He spoke to you?”

  She nodded. “Yes. After he killed everyone, I was hiding under the bar, but he found me.”

  I glanced at the bar. Half of it was torn off, pulled right out of the ground.

  “He told me that I was not like them,” Michelle continued. “Told me that I was different, that I was a good person. He said I was only alive because I had listened to the wizard, and that I should thank him.” She sniffed and looked me right in the eye. “You’re him, right? The wizard. I’ve heard stories about you.”

  I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “Okay, thank you. Get yourself somewhere safe.”

  Michelle nodded. Roland signaled the officer, who took her back to the corner to resume her statement.

  “We’ll get her protection,” Roland started once we were back outside, “but I doubt our officers can handle whatever this is.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Erik, are you okay?”

  I shook my head.

  “He asked for me,” I said. “Last night, there was some asshole who tried to spike a girl’s drink. I put a stop to it, and told that same woman in there to take the girl home.”

  Roland narrowed his eyes. “And this… demon, for lack of a better description, said the woman was only alive because she followed your orders and helped the girl.” He sighed. “Are we looking for a vigilante? Is there such a thing as demon vigilantes?”

  I shook my head. “Not that I know of,” I said.

  “What are you not telling me, Erik?” Roland snapped.

  I couldn’t tell him, not that I had seen the knight in my dreams, or that I had stolen evidence. Roland had an open mind but even he had his limits.

  “We did some research,” I said, “and I think this guy is human.”

  “Ah, shit.” Roland rubbed his chin. “Who the fuck can do that?”