“That’s not all.” Alex brought his palms together. To the uninitiated, it might have looked like a prayer, but he was actually preparing to use one of his strongest spells. He needed even more mana. Far more.
The glowing silvery rune on the ring was joined by another four.
Ten…twenty…thirty…fifty…a hundred seals flashed around Alex, all darker than the night and roaring with the force pouring into them. Screaming, Doom separated his palms, and everyone down at the foot of the skyscraper shuddered instinctively in fear.
The fear the prey feels just before it’s hit with the predator’s fangs and claws.
Howling echoed across the Financial District.
Alex on his fiery horse was surrounded by wolves looking like the one he’d used against Pyotr.
The Syndicate’s emissary had only had to deal with one wolf, though, and now there were hundreds, all grinning with fanged jaws and scraping claws across the gravel. Each wolf had a glowing red pentagram on its face, not to mentioned powerful muscles that bulged beneath fur made of black fire.
[ERROR. ERROR. Structure cannot be recognized. The authorized agencies have been informed.]
I hope the lieutenant meant it when he said the Guards will take care of everything.
Using a prohibited or unregistered spell below 1,000 mana points was one thing. But a 4,000-point mix of black and demon magic was ano—
Clapping.
Alex watched the Mask applaud him.
Then he barked an order.
“Attack!”
The pack of hell wolves, sulfur saliva dripping, rushed at the enemy.
The Mask just waved his hand.
What happened next felt like a nightmare to Doom. A really scary nightmare.
The raven hovering around the wizard flapped its wings. Feathers fell off to turn into long, sharp swords that hailed down on the rooftop in a torrent of black-magic arrows.
The wolves vanished in flashes of dark fire, one after another. Only one of the hundred reached the Mask and attacked, and it was instantly dispersed by the raven’s sharp claws.
Alex jumped off his horse a second before his chest would have been pierced by three of the feather swords. In disbelief, he watched the hell horse’s shroud vanish, revealing his mangled steel friend slowly toppling over onto its right side.
“How is that even possible?!”
Alex had used his best invention ever. The strongest spell he had. But it…didn’t even ruffle the flaps of the Mask’s trench coat.
The mysterious wizard glanced down at Alex, who was sitting on the gravel, before turning away and stepping onto the back of his raven. It started to take off into the sky.
“Not so fast, you scum!” Alex shouted. Jumping up, he clutched at the Mask’s ankle and pulled himself onto the artifact bird’s back.
Chapter 53
Alex had learned the ins and outs of fist fights back at St. Frederick’s Orphanage. He’d improved on that strong base in the Tkils gang and polished it in the wizard prison.
But, fucking shit, none of that prepared him to fight a wizard on the back of a giant raven flying a mile in the air above the rooftops of the city’s tallest skyscrapers.
Dodging a direct blow to the head, Alex ducked and tried to grab his opponent by the knee. But the latter yanked it back out of reach and used his elbow to deliver an axe-like strike to Alex’s spine.
Doom saw stars. His left arm went numb, but he ignored it.
He had to make sure.
There was no other choice.
Throwing his body forward, he buried the crown of his head in the Mask’s belly, knocking his opponent down onto the raven’s back.
The rooftops dashed past far below as Alex reached for the mask hiding the wizard’s face. A knee hit his side, knocking the air out of him.
Pushing Doom off, the Mask kicked him so hard in the shoulder that he sent Alex flying off the bird’s back. He would have fallen all the way down and splattered on the city streets if he hadn’t grabbed hold of the bird’s tail and swung himself around onto its back.
The two wizards continued landing physical blows like mere mortals.
Blocking a sweeping punch to his head, Alex tried to attack the enemy’s groin with his knee. The move was instantly countered by a painful back-handed strike that turned into a sweeping chop to his Adam’s apple.
Doom pressed his chin down to the throat. While he took the risk of losing consciousness to the blow, he avoided death, which was the priority. The Mask’s relentless fingers weren’t strong enough to break through the block and send him into an eternal sleep.
The longer the fight lasted, the more Doom realized that the Mask’s style was awfully familiar.
Seizing an opportunity, Doom again reached for the iron mask hiding his opponent’s face.
The Mask recoiled and, losing his balance, staggered back to restore it. Unfortunately, he did so by stepping on the raven’s head.
Mistaking the move for a command, the bird dove steeply. Both wizards toppled off its back to hurtle downward next to it.
Тhey continued to exchange blows as they fell.
A moment before the two crazy figures hit the roofs of some low, five-story buildings, the raven swooped beneath them. But they were falling too quickly for the bird to stop them.
Alex’s back felt like it was being lashed.
They both landed hard.
First came the power lines; next came the washing lines. Doom was lucky enough to end his fall in a dumpster. The Mask was eventually picked up by his rapidly shrinking raven.
The two peered at each other silently.
The Mask stood next to a wall, his coat flapping in the wind. In the shimmering light cast by the streetlamps, his silvery armor had a Gothic look. His clenched fists emitted a red light, and red mist poured out of his eye slit.
And then there was Alex. Ragged, bloodied, and bruised, lying spread eagle in the dumpster.
The Mask turned away and walked slowly toward the road, the bloody bird hovering over his shoulder.
“Wa…it.” Groaning, Doom literally fell out onto the ground. He didn’t even have the strength to flash a thumbs-up, let alone give chase. “I’m…not…done…with you…yet. Just let me…have a smoke.”
Your big mouth will be the death of you, Robin had always told him.
The Mask stopped.
Turned slowly and walking steadily, almost as if his shoulder wasn’t bleeding and the two of them hadn’t demolished half the city as they battered each other across the rooftops, he came over to Alex’s prone figure.
He squatted down, so close Alex could smell the burned, wet leaves and sulfur on him. The smell of a demon.
“Got…you.” With a shaking hand, Alex grabbed the runaway’s boot.
The Mask just kicked his hand away. He flipped Doom onto his back, forcing a groan out of him.
The city slums. A heavy black sky. A dumpster nearby. What an ignominious en—
The Mask pulled the immortal pack of cigarettes out of Alex’s inner pocket (or what remained of it). How had it survived the crazy chase? It was a mystery.
Tapping the filter, the wizard placed the cancer stick between Alex’s lips. The matchbox was pulled out of his own coat. Shaking it, he swept a match along its side and lit Doom’s cigarette. His movements were serene and rather slow despite the police sirens howling nearby—Gribovsky must have defeated the demons. He was out looking for his partner. But that didn’t seem to bother the Mask.
He stood to watch the smoking Alex, as silent as before.
“I…will…get…you,” Doom said through gritted teeth, holding the cigarette with his lips. “It’s…personal…now.”
Alex recalled hearing an explosion behind his back when he’d jumped onto the raven. The bike’s engine had burst, punctured by a feather sword.
Another thread connecting Alex to his past was broken. When the last one was gone, what would he become?
Damn Baltael.
> Alex felt sick. His vision was blurred, his head swimming, blood and mud streaming down his face. But still, it seemed like the Mask wanted to tell him something. He shivered slightly as he reached for his patterned mask. But finally, he just nodded, turned away, and vanished with his raven in a flash of green fire.
Alex was sure it wasn’t an illusion. His eyes and mind weren’t deceiving him—the wizard had actually entered the flames and disappeared.
What level was his opponent at?
If it was as high as Alex suspected, how was he still alive?
Lying on his back, he felt his consciousness escape into soft darkness. And the only thing he could do about that was mutter curses under his breath.
***
“Help us, Alex!”
“Help!”
“Save…”
Seeing the old wizard raise a dagger over him, the little boy prayed for the first time in his life.
“If there’s anyone up there, please, please…” Hot tears ran down his face, though not out of fear for himself or even the pain caused by the words of the prayer. “…please help them! Dear lord, if you can hear me, please, please save them!”
The boy felt as if a red-hot steel sponge were being run over his body, squeezing the skin and flesh down to his bones before immersing those bones in scorching lava.
“Please, please, oh lord…if you can hear me…please help them! Protect them from Raewsky!”
Then everything froze.
Completely.
The dagger stopped half an inch before Alex’s chest. The mad glow in the Professor’s eyes faded. The drops of blood falling from the altars to the pentagram hung in the air.
“How dare you?” resounded a beautiful, melodious voice beneath the cellar ceiling.
The boy couldn’t see the speaker, though he could feel the power emanating from the voice. Enough to stop what was going on.
“Please!” the boy screamed. “Please help them!”
He was on the verge of passing out from the most horrific pain he’d ever experienced, but he knew he couldn’t faint at that moment. He had to stay strong for the sake of his family. His only family.
“You? You puny dark one dare beg my father for help?”
Alex heard a rustle of feathers and saw a shadow cast by a giant human-like figure with wings behind its back.
“Please.” His tears were as bitter as the pain spreading across his whole body. “I’ve never hurt anyone. I never wanted to be a black wizard. I just happened to be born one…so why you—”
“Because you were born a puny dark spawn—exactly what you just said. Before your life is taken, I will punish you for your insolent words.” The shadow held something out that looked like a big stick.
Alex’s ears were hit by a loud whistling. He screamed from the pain in his chest as an overwhelming sensation seared into his flesh from his left shoulder to his right thigh.
The sense of the stranger’s presence vanished. Looking down, Alex saw his reflection in a pool of his own blood, a large wound running across his whole torso.
Drained of his last strength, he collapsed to the floor. Blood squelched beneath him, throbbing out of his chest.
You lied to me, Miss Elisa. Alex could tell that something terrible was about to happen, something he had no power to stop. You said that everything in my life would depend on my choices. But I didn’t choose this! I didn’t choose to be born a black wizard. And your god rejected me for that. Why? I haven’t done anything evil.
Scenes from his past flashed by, one replacing the other. He saw himself being ridiculed, stoned, locked in a closet, and starved.
Then he recalled coming to Follen, where Robin carried him on his shoulders. Where he played with the other kids. Where Anastasia taught him how to play piano.
Where the Professor talked to him in the evenings by the fireplace.
Where he was at home.
Now all of that was being taken away from him.
And the one who could have helped was just making it worse.
I don’t need a god like that.
His despair gave place to fury.
I don’t need that Light.
Broken hope gave place to rage.
Damn it all!
The gaping void inside the little boy was filled by fire. Cold, black fire. Bringing nothing but—
Everything depends on my choices, you say? Then I choose to become the strongest black wizard ever! One who will someday put out all your Light.
“You called me, child?”
Time remained frozen. Alex smelled burned wet leaves and sulfur.
“Who are you?”
“Who am I? I’m the one who tempted Paris into stealing Helen. The one who closed Hercules’ eyes so he could kill his wife and children. The one who whispered the recipe of fiery death into the scholar’s ear. I am the one who reversed the sign of the sun to make it my sign of death. And I am the one you called, child.”
“What’s your name?”
“Baltael, my child. Baltael is the name of your doomed destiny.”
“Will you help me, Baltael?”
“I’m helping you already, my child. Can’t you feel it?”
Alex felt a red spark flash inside him, accompanied by Baltael’s distant and inhuman laughter.
***
Alex opened his eyes.
Shimmering in his right hand was the black ring, its color a striking contrast to the snow-white hospital sheets.
On his chest, right over the heart, were the five glistening scars, each shaped like an upturned star.
The traces of Baltael’s claws.
His sign.
Coming from the corridor were the sounds of a song. Karliene’s Become the Beast.
“Bitch,” Doom breathed and leaned back on the pillows.
Chapter 54
“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Dumsky.”
Feeling as doomed as a stereotypical horror movie character with a predatory monster behind his back, Alex turned toward the sound.
As he turned, Doom got a look at his one-bed hospital ward. It was palatial. Everything was stylish and modern, with a stretch ceiling, neon spots, loft-style walls made to look like metal, giant screens showing his vitals, the newest PlayStation, and a TV so large it could have doubled as a pool table.
Doom had spent nights with pretty girls in luxury hotel apartments that weren’t that nice.
But he wasn’t going to get to enjoy all the finery.
Seated in an armchair upholstered in green chintz (the only thing out of place in the apartment ward’s ultra-modern and hi-tech style) by the French window spanning an entire wall was an all-too-familiar guardsman.
The fact that Doom failed to spot the major immediately wasn’t surprising.
It was either Chon Sook’s weird sense of humor or life itself playing a joke on him. (Life definitely had a sense of humor even if the major didn’t.)
He was dressed in a green suit that was exactly the same color as the armchair, complete with a lighter-green shirt and an emerald bow tie.
In his hands the major held a women’s needlework and knitting magazine. He was somewhere in the middle, so he’d apparently spent quite some time sitting there and waiting.
Yeah. Today’s unlikely to get any worse than it already is.
“Not the most interesting read,” he sighed, dropping the glossy volume into a drawer with two other magazines: women’s lingerie and celebrity dirty laundry. “Still, the best the local library has to offer.”
“Yes?”
“There was a middle-aged lady staying here right before you. Unfortunately, I can’t introduce you unless you’re up for a walk to St. Michael’s Cemetery.”
“She died?” Alex signed mournfully.
“Sadly, heart disease is sometimes lethal even with today’s magic technology.”
Alex hoped that wasn’t intended as a threat. That hope grew particularly strong when he saw exactly how many small tubes were stuck in
his right arm and how many sensors were suction-cupped to his chest and legs. There were another two connected to his temples.
They could fry me with electricity if they wanted. The perfect way to burn a witch in the enlightened 21st century. At least my bonfire will be a hospital bed good enough for a politician to die on.
“Relax, Alexander.” Sticking out his little finger, Chon Sook drank some coffee from a china cup. It was so strong that the very smell made Doom a little dizzy. He’d never liked the drink, anyway—whiskey or chocolate were more his cup of tea. And sometimes literal tea. “We need you fully…operational. That’s why the office for once was generous enough to shell out the credits for the city’s best hospital.”
“The best?” Alex arched his body to peer out the window. Yes. The hospital building was apparently right in the middle of Central Park, meaning he was at Dethrail, the Light Elves’ healthcare center. A week of treatment cost as much as a two-bedroom apartment somewhere on Amalgam Street. “Bitch.”
“You said that already, Mr. Dumsky. And swearing in a senior officer’s presence is a bad idea.”
That was when Alex remembered the major’s cupboard-sized driver.
“Where’s Duncan?”
“In the cafeteria.” Chon Sook put the cup back on the tea trolley and picked up an éclair. “For whatever reason, he’s not a fan of yours, so I’d rather have him appease his hunger with the local fast food than your blood.”
“Is he a vampire?”
Alex wasn’t surprised that Dethrail served fast food. For the money its patients paid, they could have been attended to by elite escorts instead of night nurses.
And ladies of their race of choice, too. With a degree in finance. Why finance? Because most inpatients were probably of the age where you enjoy discussing stock market trends more than sex.
But why only ladies? Because Alex was sexist.
“Sometimes I suspect he really is, but he keeps passing all the tests.” The major allowed himself a slight smile before reassuming his usual kite-like expression to finish up the éclair and wipe his hands on a napkin. Intertwining his fingers, he shot Doom a smart, intent stare that bored right into his skull. “Mr. Dumsky, what can you tell me about our Mr. X?”
Dark Wizard's Case Page 29