Unlocked

by Kevin Solomon Missal

  hunter. Now I remember. I have heard of you.” His voice changed and became a tad boyish. “Where? Where? Where? Ah yes! You are the famous hunter.”

  His wrinkled skin, which looked like crumpled paper, started to change. The lines and marks faded and soft, fair skin formed.

  “Why are you here?”

  His freckled bald head sprouted big, bushy hair. The transformation from an old man to a boy was ending. His crooked back grew straight and lean. His waistcoat, shirt, and low-cut pants changed into a t-shirt with a lantern on it, brown jeans, and comfy slippers.

  Ivy came forward, her hand raised, a sign of surrender. “We need to talk to you. There’s something going on.”

  “You lot killed my brothers.” The Marid’s face was calm, yet anger roiled within his white eyes. “You were the ones who murdered them.”

  Balthazar chuckled. “You got it wrong. It wasn’t us.”

  “You thought you can come here in front of me and kill me! Let me remind you. I am a Marid. My brothers didn’t hold the powers. They were weak, pathetic. But me? I still have many long forgotten powers and I can do wonders.”

  “Splendid!” Caspar mused. “We all want three wishes, genie. Would you mind granting them to us?”

  “You are trying to disrespect me?”

  “In my defense, my lad, I never respected you in the first place.” He brought his cane forward, holding it in front of him as if it were a weapon.

  The djinn didn’t say more. He moved back as if getting ready to pounce at Caspar. His lips murmured words, syllables. It was Latin. He was sure of it. Balthazar and Ivy exchanged glances. He saw Ivy pull out a sapphire and ruby dagger. She was

  preparing herself for what was to come. He stood calmly with no weapon, whatsoever, except for the cane within his hand. He still had no idea as to how to use it to his advantage.

  A spark was moving around the Marid until a whirlpool formed. Perhaps it was a light. Perhaps it was a tiny fairy floating in air. Nevertheless, Caspar understood what it was. Before he could issue forth a proper explanation, the Marid slowly faded within the whirlpool, his face faint within the sunlight.

  “He’s teleporting. Follow me,” he said and leapt forward.

  Balthazar’s claws bit into his ankle as Ivy hung onto the gargoyle. The multi-color swirls of the teleportation were blinding him, choking him. He closed his eyes. The movement of winds around them started to dissipate. He could feel the teleportation ending. He fell to the ground. Balthazar crashed into his back and spasmed. Ivy landed on top of Balthazar.

  Caspar pushed them away and used his cane to push himself to his feet. He looked around in search of the petty djinn. He tried to make sense of his surroundings. It took some time for Balthazar to constrict and begin floating. Ivy dusted her tank top and flaring jacket. She came to stand beside Caspar and stared in the direction he was looking at. He was silent and imposing. His pale lips were pressed together. His angular cheekbones slightly flushed. His beaky nose, like that of a sparrow, sniffed the air as if trying to catch the scent of the djinn.

  “So what should we do?”

  The footsteps trampled nearby. Caspar knew what he had to do. He ordered Ivy and Balthazar to follow him into an alley. He saw a big sign with the word, BAR, written across it. He saw someone enter the establishment and was sure that the

  shadow was familiar. He entered the bar. Balthazar remained outside in case the djinn tried to escape.

  The bar was dark. People bustled inside, sitting down on chairs, talking with beers in their hands. Some sat at the counter where the bartender made cocktails for them. There were many people and the light was dim. It would have been impossible for anyone to find a boy with white eyes within that atmosphere.

  Caspar had a bit of trouble in finding the djinn. In the midst of humans, who were drunk and did not have the slightest of idea of what was going on, the Marid sat a table with a girl, talking and flirting. His smile was vicious and coy. The girl was older than him, but something attracted her toward the Marid. That was the best part about being supernatural entities. You were able to trigger human minds with ease, as their minds were still in the primitive age. Caspar, on the other hand, had perfected the art of not letting anyone to get inside his head.

  He approached the table and patted the Marid’s back. “Hello.”

  The Marid stared up at him. He remained frozen in place, surprise staining his

  face.

  “Shoo,” Caspar said to the girl.

  His fixed gaze moved her into action and she scurried away. He turned back to stare at the Marid who gave him a mannequin smile. Ivy appeared, moments later and sat down in the previously occupied chair.

  “You think we are your enemies,” she said. “We aren’t. We are the ones who have the best intentions to help you.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  “We will give information that will surpass your doubts and suspicions.”

  Ivy enthralled the djinn by giving him the vital information as to why they were there and who’d murdered all of his brothers in hopes of gaining his allegiance. “The demon slaughterer, Spring Heeled Jack, can come any time to fetch and kill you in hopes of getting your essence. For that, you have to come with us, so that we can protect you from him. We must prevent Manfred from getting your essence so that his ritual doesn’t work.”

  Caspar stood close to the table, looking around in search of anyone suspicious. Anyone could be Spring Heeled Jack. Music played throughout the room and the wavering lights danced. People were moving their bodies, sweat dripping from their tired foreheads. Their hair grew damp as their bodies moved with each other.

  Within the dancing crowd, a boy with blond hair falling across his eyes walked slowly. His lips curled as he moved, step by step, only to realize that he was aiming for Marid. Caspar brought his cane down without any hesitation across his diaphragm. He groaned as Caspar pulled him across the bar and strode outside toward Balthazar who was busy smoking a cigar.

  “Where did you get that?” Caspar asked. “Just...you know, here and there.”

  Caspar didn’t bother to ask more. He pushed the blond-haired boy against the wall, pinning his wrists tightly above his head. He hit him once again. Before he could speak, the boy spat blood because of his now broken jaw.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” he cried, tears trickling down his cheeks. Caspar drew his finger against the boy’s bloody teeth to find that he was

  wearing plastic fangs. He wasn’t Spring Heeled Jack, he realized with regret. He was a wannabe vampire. “Why were you trying to be a vampire?”

  “Chicks dig it,” was his only reply. “After the vampire books, you know girls purposely go to pubs and bars, to find...umm...vampires. I fool them by acting like a real vampire.”

  “Which you are not.” Caspar gritted his teeth together and left him there as he lay huddled against the wall, crying. “And what the hell is that?” He found something sticky on his fingers. “Sparkles make-up...Are you wearing glitter?” he asked with disgust.

  “Vampires sparkle and chicks dig that, too.” “Do you want to see a complete idiot?”

  The feeble boy didn’t answer. “Look at the mirror.”

  The boy hurried away without any further delay into a side alley. Balthazar became visible once more.

  “That was…harsh,” he said as he threw the cigar down and crushed it with his small feet.

  “Have they ever seen a vampire? They don’t...Well, they don’t wear gothic costumes like that kid was wearing. And they certainly don’t wear glitter, for all I know. Vampires are dangerous and have big talons and wings with which they use to catch their prey while flying and not with seduction techniques. That’s completely preposterous!”

  “Oh, yes, I agree.” He puffed. “One thing I don’t understand is that I have heard Spring Heeled Jack is connected to a source. The source is not here. So how will you be able to kill him if he comes?”

  “Finishing off the source
is an easy way to kill Spring Heeled Jack. The difficult way is . . .”

  “By kicking his ass!”

  The door swung open to reveal the Marid. Ivy appeared behind him, trying her best to persuade him. The Marid’s face was full of anger and despair. He didn’t use any teleportation techniques or force winds. He just stood there as Ivy stated her case.

  “You have to come with us,” “What if you are manipulating me?”

  Caspar sighed. He didn’t like this. This was too much. Every second counted. Every minute did. The Marid was trying to prolong things, trying to get some surety out of Ivy. It was strange the way she was pleading with the Marid to listen to her, to believe her. Initially, he thought she was a strong fighter with a straight aim. Yet he knew that everyone wore a mask in order to cover their true nature. He knew this because he wore a mask, too.

  “We have to force you, then.” This time, she wasn’t begging. Her voice was commanding and slightly husky.

  “You will not.”

  The djinn didn’t bother to bring forth a whirlpool with which to teleport. Instead, he sprinted away. His attempted was unexpected, but Caspar had read about djinns. When they drain their powers more, they became vulnerable like humans. It was a good thing. It would take less energy in bringing the djinn to Capernaum.

  The alleyway’s lamp burned bright in the beautiful sky light before it exploded into darkness. They were all surprised by the sudden implosion. Caspar stumbled forward to find the djinn had stopped running. He was no longer smiling. His expression was different. It was deathly.

  “Tell him about Death, aye? It would scare the hell out of him and he’ll surely believe,” Balthazar laughed.

  Ivy shook her head. “He just believes we are plotting all of this. Thanks, Caspar Socrates, for that, as he doesn’t believe us.”

  “Why me?” Caspar asked with confusion as he glanced at Ivy.

  “You are the hunter. You hunt creatures. You have already killed so many of them. You have become famous. He thinks you are the murderer. Thank you so much, Mister Socrates,” she growled.

  “My pleasure.”

  The djinn smiled as he turned around. Two pairs of claws sliced through the djinn’s chest, straight through his heart, drenching the street with scarlet blood, dripping thick like a ribbon floating in air. The claws tore through flesh and bone, shredding them completely. The scent of blood could be smelled from yards away.

  Balthazar flew toward the looming shadow with its shiny claws. Caspar withdrew a blade from within his satchel. He tossed the cane and the satchel aside as it was interfering with his combat movement. The corpse lay before them, but the shadow had gone. He stared at it with dismay. Balthazar sniffed.

  “He didn’t listen to us!” Caspar said. “And now look at him. He’s lying down, broken.”

  The pair of claws appeared, intent of latching on to Caspar’s coat. Ivy moved to deflect the movement with her dagger. She rolled over and kicked the ashy-looking demon’s leg from behind him. The talons were far more ferocious than she had imagined. Long and serrated, they swiped at Ivy’s hair. The red streaks glistened. Caspar took the opportunity to shove his blade inside the demon.

  The blade had no effect on it. The demon groaned and shrugged its shoulders in hopes of pushing Ivy back. Spring Heeled Jack brought his hooks near her, his nails glowing slightly. Balthazar kicked out, hitting the demon across its back. The

  demon’s hat flew into the air, revealing his bald head and a waxy, disfigured face. It roared and came forward to attack Caspar, but stumbled as Balthazar initiated another kick. The demon snarled, showing his fangs. It avoided Balthazar’s next attack. Grabbing hold of the gargoyle, it threw him across to the other side. Balthazar slammed into the wall and dropped into an open garbage can nearby.

  Spring Heeled Jack leapt from one building to another. It was too fast, making it difficult for Ivy and Caspar to follow his movements. He tossed Caspar’s blade aside and pushed him down the wall with the intention of beating his heart out of his chest. It then shattered the gems of Ivy’s blade. His movements were so quick that she didn’t have time to think about her next move.

  Caspar pressed himself again the wall and carefully made his way toward his bag and his cane. He was on alert, prepared for the demon’s next attack. Spring Heels Jack waited. Silence descended upon them. Ivy kept to the shadows so that she would not be noticed. Blood dripped down her forehead. She felt herself lifted and soon hung upside-down within the demon’s clutches. Ivy stared at the demon’s stitched mouth. She was positive that it was smiling at her.

  Caspar retrieved his cane and satchel, digging through it for something suitable to use. He had daggers, chalks, knives, and a boomerang. He grabbed the boomerang and threw it across the alley. Its edges carved into the demon’s flesh, black blood pouring from the jagged gashes.

  It moaned and tossed Ivy aside as if she were a toy. Her body forcefully slammed into the wall, giving her a memorable ache. She dropped to the ground, spasms of pain searing her body all the way to her spine. Her eyes and cheeks were swollen. A small cut grazed her skin. Her eyes closed as she lay still.

  Caspar held his cane tight as if it was his own heart, his own soul. He would never let go of it. The demon was strong, way strong than any other demons he’d encountered. He was invulnerable to blades and magic. His eyes shot to the cane.

  Use it when in need.

  Well, he needed now. Death should have told him how to use it. On top of that, he should have asked him while they’d been at Capernaum’s house. Alas, he had forgotten. He couldn’t lament that fact now. More important matters had to be solved first and the cane’s use had not been his priority until now.

  He could hear cold whispers calling out to him. It was as if the angels from heaven had descended with their hands stretched forward and called out Caspar’s name.

  “Come to us! Come to us!”

  No! No! He was dead once. He didn’t want to die again. The feeling of being dead was quite terrible.

  S.

  The S had something to do with it. He was sure of it. It wasn’t just simply crafted to signify Socrates. The cane served a purpose. He just needed to discover what it was. He pulled, pushed, and twisted it. He tried every action he could think of. The sound of the claws clicking together disturbed the silence.

  As Caspar fiddled with the cane, it started to deform. He wasn’t sure as to how it happened. Perhaps it was because he’d twisted the handle. He must have activated a hidden mechanism. The cane started to glow brightly, causing Caspar to press his hand in front of his eyes. The glow blinded the demon. He stepped back, unsure as to what had happened.

  The bottom of the cane started to burn softly as if were a torch of some sort. He opened his eyes. The cane was glowing softly and he could see that the cane’s size and shadow had changed. It had a hilt now, made of rubbery leather connected to a long, twisted blade in a shape of a question mark. The cane had become a shotel.

  It looked like a big crane attached to a hilt. He saw something dripping from the edge of the blade and touched it. The water, or perhaps the silver blood, was warm and smooth. Caspar had seen that kind of blood. The shotel was made out of an angel’s blood, bones, and flesh. Which meant the weapon could battle and devour a demon of any kind.

  It didn’t take a lot of time for Spring Heeled Jack to lurch towards Caspar. This time, he was ready for the attack. The demon’s claws clanged together as he reached at Caspar. The shotel’s end plummeted through its chest. The black blood brightened as it was smeared on the blade’s sharp edge. The demon snarled in agony.

  The smoke around the demon clouded, swirling into a mini-tornado. It misted and within seconds, the demon burst into papery white ash. The smell the rotten of blood dizzied him and churned his stomach.

  Foregoing a groan, he smiled and called out to his companions, “Are you

  okay?”

  Balthazar’s head popped out of the dustbin. “I fainted. What did I miss?”
Caspar laughed loudly. He could hear Ivy’s faint laugh as well. The sound was

  soft and gentle. Leaning against the wall, he pushed himself to his feet, holding his hand around his stomach. He grabbed his shotel and twisted the S. It didn’t glow as much as before. The shotel contracted and became a cane once more. He walked toward a wounded Ivy, concerned that she was unable to move.

  Balthazar had incurred some cuts and injuries over his ankle, his knee, and his elbow. They slowly started to heal. That was the best part about being a gargoyle. You never had a permanent damage.

  Caspar knelt beside Ivy as she shivered in the moonlight. Her lips looked thicker and her cheeks were pale. Several swollen areas bulged out of her skin. He hadn’t realized she’d been hurt so badly. Seeing her tired face and so broken down, he found himself pitying her. All he could think of was to embrace her and kiss her upon the forehead. Yet he knew it wouldn’t be the Socratic method. To do so went against everything he stood for.

  “We kicked his ass, guys." She gave a small smile. It proved difficult for her as her jaw, her teeth, even her entire face was pained. She managed it, none-the-less, to show her companions a bit of optimism in face of such adversity.

  “Good lord, you are hurt bad.” Caspar wasn’t sad. He wasn’t concerned. Or was he trying not to be concerned? “Now, we can’t take you to the hospital, because we then have to give explanations of those injuries to the doctor.”

  “C – Capernaum has some healing spell books and some herbs and flowers, too. I will be fine.”

  Balthazar supported her as they pulled her to her feet.

  “We couldn’t save the djinn. We messed up. Lucifer is going to rise and . . .” She was going to cry, but did everything possible to hold her tears back. She