Oculus

by S. E. Akers

  Wounding immortal creatures wasn’t a problem, however, the power they possessed would start healing them instantly, regardless of how much Veil magic the weapon held. I made a crucial mental note after hearing that: cuts need to be “quick” and “deep”. But it wasn’t like Darklands creatures couldn’t be stripped of their immortality. It turned out that they could. In fact, there were two ways. The first was enough cuts from a blade crafted from a stone capable of stripping a being’s soul, stealing their power, and absolving them from all their evil. And guess who happened to lay claim to the ONLY one of those? Damiec. That’s how he was able to kill the immortal chupacabra that had bitten him, which he and the other Talismans discovered by chance. His powerful bloodstone blade had struck the creature enough times to rob it of its essence, and as a result, drained his prized weapon doing so. Tanner claimed that his bloodstone was never meant to kill an immortal, only weaken it. Damiec knew better than to test its bounds the way he had, and that his stubborn determination was ultimately his undoing. The chupacabra managed to bite him during their intense battle, transferring its curse to the defenseless & drained Bloodstone Talisman. So, unless Damiec wanted to surrender his blade and any claim to his birth-stone straight to me, that route was out of the question.

  He won’t return my amethyst, but he’ll give THAT UP? The only thing keeping him from turning into a gruesome, fang-clad blood-sucker ALL THE TIME? That so wasn’t happening. I would have to cut it out of him first.

  Surprisingly the second way required no weapon whatsoever. All it would take was absolute “peace on earth” — complete love and harmony from every living human soul. Starving them from humanity’s harmful thoughts and feelings would force them to die out. So basically, it was another pie-in-the-sky, rainbow-coated crapshoot. Maybe if beauty pageant contestants started strolling out on stage with one of those creatures tied to a chain it would strengthen their pointless pleas? Despite how much easier it would make my job, I wasn’t banking on that fantasy anytime soon. Humanity would always play host to a multitude of those creatures, supplying their vile souls with an endless buffet of misdeeds, harsh emotions, strife, and hate.

  Over seven billion miracles? Reality sent that notion up in smoke with a doubt-fueled inferno real quick. Though a wonder of that magnitude would be an astounding sight to see.

  The rise of mortal creatures held a much different tale. They were humans whose souls had been tainted by an immortal beast and remained tortured by their mark. An affliction could occur through one of three ways: birth, possession, or being cursed. Luckily both Damiec and Lorelei fit into this killable category. I already knew the specifics of the Bloodstone Talisman’s cursed account, but Lorelei’s was still a bit murky. Tanner was more than willing to fill in the blanks. He revealed that Lorelei’s true father was an immortal beast that had plagued her mother with some sort of tragic & twisted semen donation, ending in her emergence as the first and only half-leviathan born into the world. I found myself taking pity on Lorelei. Here she woke up one day thinking she was a supernatural human in the form of a Talisman, only for her head to hit the pillow that night part sea-monster, AND that the man who’d raised her as his own wasn’t her real biological father. I would be a little bitchy too. She resented her mother and felt betrayed. I could even relate to that, what with my long-standing “mommy-issues”. Though in her mother’s defense, how could you ever prepare someone for a Birds & Bees talk like that? It wasn’t like she’d intended it to happen. The leviathan could shape-shift. Her mother thought she was bedding her “actual husband” on their wedding night. I felt bad all the way around after hearing that. They were all victims, but Lorelei could never see it that way. Her eyes were clouded with far too much disappointment and rage.

  All mortal creatures could roam the earth in plain view (though with some limitations) either in their human form or under the cloak of a disguise. I was amazed at how many I’d read about that actually existed. Tanner assured they were all dangerous, some more than others. The worst of the lot were the ones whose soul had been marred by a full-fledged Darklands demon. Their powers to sway an unsuspecting human’s senses mirrored a Talisman’s own abilities in many ways and playing on their unsuspecting victim’s emotions was a well-practiced tactic. Demonic half-breeds didn’t stop at feasting on their victim’s blood either. Many demanded both flesh and soul for their survival. They were manipulative, dangerous, and heartless beings that needed to come to their ends quickly.

  At the start of every lesson, Tanner would stress over and over (and over) the importance of knowing everything contained within the creature journals by heart — front-to-back and back-to-front. I had a lifetime crusade of monster-killing ahead of me, and he assured that outside the walls of this cave “business was booming”. No rest for the weary really meant “no rest for the unread”. I couldn’t finish a book and place it back on its shelf without cringing at the ones still awaiting my eyes. I kept chugging on with more and more attempts to extract details from Bea’s memories, but this little engine couldn’t see past the light fading from her eyes — not even to snatch up one measly tidbit. I tried accessing my diamond on a whim one day, just to see what would happen. What a total shutout that was! For something that held so much sway over my daily life, it sure was hell-bent on keeping to itself. At least when I focused on the golden topaz, it acknowledged me with a warm vibe. But the diamond? Asking it a question was like ringing a doorbell to a house full of people, only to be ignored and left out in the cold. You had to be invited to that sparkly party personally, when the diamond extended an invitation by way of a vision. And I hadn’t received one of those in months — not since last December. Who knows? Maybe its high-handed guard stemmed from the immense power it claimed? It sensed my emotions, so it knew my struggles as well. Maybe it felt its new owner needed to learn things the old-fashioned way—the way Adamas had—instead of being magically spoon-fed a head full of cheat-sheets. Possibly? Then again, maybe it was just that daggone finicky? So sadly, my optimistic glass was starting to look awful empty. Correction. It was full — awfully full of books.

  My “alchemy” lessons were basically what I’d guessed, witchcraft. I didn’t care how hard my mentor painted his chemistry-based supernatural line of B.S., that’s what it washed out to in the end. Since Talismans’ stones were blessed with traces of Veil magic, casting spells was basically straightforward. You simply had to focus on your stone’s energy and draw from it naturally. Bea had already instructed me on how to access the magic inside my stone when conjuring protective wards. All other spells in regards to “obtaining something one desired” were performed the same way, except they were a lot more involved with their laundry lists of ingredients and lengthy Latin chants. The grander the request, the more complicated the spell. With everything else I had slated on my summer reading list, I couldn’t have cared less if I flipped any more pages or saw another word for the rest my life. There were THREE LEVELS housing books about spells and incantations. Creatures only claimed two. The sheer sight of those mammoth manuals sure put the “grim” in “grimoire”, rest assured.

  The only thing that proved more fatiguing were the number of magical ingredients I had to know by heart. I found that out when Tanner opened up one of the full-sized cabinet doors and led me in to what amounted to a Sam’s Club of witchy-wares and goods. But then again, when everything biologically-created on earth held the tiniest trace of magic—plants, animals, and minerals—the gazillion plus bottles, jars, and vials were expected. I just needed to stop my head from swimming long enough to remember them all and what they did. I wanted to avoid any hocus-pocus boo-boos if possible. All those identical containers may have looked neat and pretty lining the shelves methodically, but not a one of them had been tagged with any helpful names or claimed any distinguishing marks. My mentor had everything else down here in this cave, but he couldn’t produce the first white label or a daggone black Sharpie? Even worse, most of the herbs looked the same, like kitchen
spice oregano. Relying strictly on an ingredient’s appearance was out. I would have to employ some of my other senses—sight, touch, smell, and possibly taste as well—and pray I didn’t get conked with any nasty punches trying to figure out their contents.

  Tanner encouraged me to get my hands dirty with as many spells and their ingredients as I could—eh hem—under his “in-person” guide of course. In fact, he made me promise not to fly solo on anything, except for any jump-ahead reading in my spare time. Yeah, I envisioned slamming his head in-between the pages of the biggest volume I could find after that crazy notion crossed those perfect lips of his.

  “Spare time”— Yeah, right…

  I was honestly teasing when I’d asked him, “If the ‘alchemist’ was going to show me how to turn lead into gold?” Tanner tightened his smirk and then sent me off to retrieve a particular ancient-looking grimoire from off one of the shelves, the only one with a leather cover dyed in orange and dangling a rusty-red tassel. Excuse me, “scientific journal”. I remarked that it was fashioned from the supplest animal skin I’d ever felt — baby soft, in fact. He grinned and immediately revealed that when the “supernatural scientist” passed away, their descendants tanned the corpse’s flesh and used it to cover a collection of their most treasured spells and incantations. I handed it straight to him after hearing that. I didn’t want to think about what part I’d been holding and felt the desperate need to give my hands a good scrubbing. Tanner then laid the book down on the table, opened it to the exact page, and then began collecting what he needed from the surrounding shelves and cupboards. My case of the skeeves soon faded as I scanned all the particulars of history’s most sought-after formula, just as casually as if I were glancing at an award-winning recipe from a Southern Living magazine. Now this one was worth its weight in gold, literally.

  My mentor placed a gray speckled bowl crafted from pumice down on the table. He explained the vessel had to be something that would withstand heat, but it couldn’t be cast from another metal. Silas came strolling into the room not a second later, and after having read one of the spell’s “crucial ingredients”, I knew the reason behind his appearance.

  Silas handed Tanner my moonstone ring. “Here you are, Professor.”

  The smartass in me couldn’t resist the temptation. “Gee, you really are a good guesser,” I scoffed at the house steward while my mind etched a big fat check beside “telepath”, formally confirming my theory.

  “I never lie,” Silas smirked and then strutted out of the chamber straightaway.

  My head rocked with several acidic shakes, and it took a heck of a lot of willpower to hold on to that raspberry dying to explode out of my mouth. Tanner may have averted his head, but that didn’t keep me from catching the sly amusement flirting with his bottom lip.

  I pointed to the bowl. “Please proceed,” I requested, trying my best to shake off the battery of naughty thoughts forming a long line in my head. Trying not to feed any Darklands creatures wasn’t going to be easy with Silas around. I could whip up a five-star buffet just from watching that arrogant strut of his alone.

  Tanner placed a hunk of lead inside the volcanic rock vessel, along with a charged yellow tourmaline. He explained that any tourmaline held the power to add or take away a metal’s protons to a certain degree, but only a yellow one could manipulate a metal’s atomic number into the golden number of 79. His more scientific approach did strengthen his alchemy argument (though I would never admit it to him). Now all that remained was summoning a beam and then chanting the magic words. He granted me that honor. With my moonstone in hand, I conjured a blinding white moonbeam and directed it into the bowl. Once the lead had heated to a fiery yellow glow, I chanted the magic words, “Metallum transmutare in aurum,” and then I waited.

  Nothing happened.

  I said the enchanted incantation again — much slower this go-around. I didn’t extend the slightest glance Tanner’s way after my next failed attempt. I thought I’d pronounced the words correctly (at least they had sounded right in my head). He assured that I was making a common enunciation mistake by not placing my emphasis on the correct syllable. That scored me an extra hour of Latin lessons every day, and to my disheartenment, he had Silas oversee my instruction. I’d hoped the computer-guided lesson wouldn’t be too bad (at least I wouldn’t have to look at him), however the house steward’s mouth NEVER… FREAKING… STOPPED! Fantasies about duct tape crafted of tin ran circles through my head, especially when he barbed about it being a good thing that Latin words didn’t end in the letter G, so he wouldn’t fear their inevitable “country-redneck drop”.

  Oh, I was plannin’ on droppin’ somethin’ all right — a big, fat tack in his uppity-assed chair.

  Following lunch every day, the two of us would head back down into the cave for hours of heated physical contact — strictly combative of course. Tanner singled out a particular class of weapons when he began each instruction—swords one day, armor the next, then shields, and so on—but he always managed to squeeze in a little bow practice towards the end. Even he realized I sucked THAT BAD. I could kick my own butt for it too. Daddy and Samuel had tried for years to teach me how to shoot. I never saw it as a skill I would need one day. I had no interest whatsoever in ever hunting any cute bucks or does, and as far as “protection” went… a gun — yeah, but arrows? It wasn’t like I could tuck a set of those in my purse (though now I might could).

  Ah well… Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve.

  Since all monster-banishing bouts were on hold until they’d been officially green-lighted, Tanner and I engaged in extensive rounds of combat every afternoon. I didn’t know who in the heck I’d sparred with in the past, but it sure wasn’t the guy standing before me with the sultry hazel eyes. The Amethyst Talisman kicked my butt EVERY SINGLE TIME. He’d always proven to be a fierce contender, but this was totally different. His strikes were swift, relentless, and above all, extremely punishing. The wounds I left on him looked like paper-cuts compared to mine. I hadn’t felt this wet behind the ears since discovering I was a supernatural last November. It was like fighting Tanner version 5.0. Nope, the house steward wasn’t kidding a lick when he’d made his “arduous training” remark and that Tanner would “strive to test my current skill-set”. My mentor was in full-on battle mode, and I knew why — to ultimately keep me safe.

  But rest assured, “safe” still hurt. There were no girly-versions of push-ups when it came to locking swords. Believe me. Every ounce of his “equality” came through my skin just fine — without a shred of chivalrous mercy.

  Silas showed up promptly at four o’clock every afternoon to escort me down to the torture chamber for my daily beating. He must have lost amusement in his iron cannonball batterings because after a couple of days my coach had me catching and dodging wicked-sharp, diamond-dusted iron barbs. And if that wasn’t enough fearsome-fun, an iron wall stretching the length of mobile home awaited me as well. That was to be my punching bag (not kidding). Talk about a joke too sick for a chuckle. I couldn’t make a single dent in it. To be brutally honest, the daggone thing looked smoother after every session. Diamond-hard skin and virtually unbreakable bones sure didn’t mean my hands couldn’t swell. They did. My aching mitts looked like a pair of blazing red boxing gloves, less the laces. I crawled onto the red jasper table at the end of each grueling afternoon — muscles drenched with iron and feeling sorer than the day before. I never thought I would ever think such a thing, but I actually missed Coach Hayes. He couldn’t possibly be as demanding or more of an ass than Silas. The house steward’s daily torment was bad enough, but somehow he’d shell-shocked his way into my subconscious. I woke in a sweat one night thinking he’d replaced my mattress with one fashioned from those pointy iron spikes he loved hurling so much. I sprang out of bed and checked underneath the sheets just to make sure it was only a dream. It had felt real enough, and I could totally see the BUTT-ler doing it too.

  I would find myself counting the minutes u
ntil dinner time (usually during my training with Silas). That was my rainbow at the end of the storm, but not because of the food by any means (though it was good). I loved the opportunity it afforded me with Tanner, during and after our meal. Now that was more delicious than any culinary delight the house steward could ever plop down in front of me. The hours I spent with him not training felt much more intimate and human. This was when I got to see more of his other side. Completely relaxed… The height of playful… And undeniably charming… The only hitch in my evenings was Silas and his barrage of awkward interruptions. Each and every one of them were so perfectly timed I started nodding or pointing towards the door just as he was about to emerge. It didn’t matter what we were doing. Chatting by the fire… Playing pool or a few hands of cards… When we were outside taking an evening stroll… Watching a movie on the sofa… The warden’s watchful eye was that on par with his steadfast agenda to keep my intentions at bay. What did it matter to him anyway? If the house steward didn’t seem so asexual, I would swear he had to be gay. But as frustrating as what Silas could be, it was Tanner’s reaction or rather, lack of reaction I found most troubling. He sure didn’t seem the least bit annoyed by any of Silas’ intrusions, which inflamed my suspicions about something being “off” even more.