by M. P. Taylor
It rang. Once, twice, and then finally he answered it. A cautiously hopeful voice spoke from the other end, “Catherine?” I didn't respond, I couldn't, “Catherine. Are you alright?”
“No,” I finally managed to mumble out, “I...I could use your help.”
“Right. Are you still in Seattle?” I told him I was, “Good. Where are you?”
Try as I might, I couldn't remember. I'd found the address online and committed it to memory. Now that part of my brain wasn't working so well.
“My wards are down. Track me.”
“Put them back up and just tell me where you are,” it was sound advice. Not having a concealment ward up was bad news. It meant that anyone who wanted to find you, could do so. It was something that any respectable wizard always had on.
“It was broken,” when Irena's blade had stabbed me, it had also destroyed every enchantment over my body. That included the concealment ward.
Right now, I was just as helpless as any old human. It felt terrifying.
When next Gerald spoke it was clear he understood the seriousness of the situation. My ward was broken and I didn't have the strength to make a new one. That meant I was either dead or soon to be.
“I'm on my way.” there was a flickering of static, he had cast a spell, “Looks like your in North Side, I can be there in ten. I'll send word for a fleshcrafter to...”
His words continued but I'd stopped listening. The seat had become far more comfortable than it had any right to be. I leaned back into it, letting the phone fall as I finally gave into the fatigue. I had faith in Gerald. He would find me and if not, all the same. I'd done all I could.
Chapter Three
A warm bundle of fur brushed against my side. My hands reached out to pet Bucket, my dog.
The Anatolian Shepherd gave a low whine that I took to be a sympathetic gesture. Dogs were great like that, always aware of their owner's plight and willing to help. What wasn't helping was the heat being generated by the massive furball – enough to rival a small furnace. I was already covered in blankets, adding his considerable mass was overkill. I tolerated him being there with passive petting. I was scared and it always helped to have a dog near when that happened.
There was a burning sensation coming from my abdominal and I felt as if I'd just been beaten and mugged. A moment later I remembered that was what had happened. They might not have been after my money, but it was close enough.
A series of licks came my way as I stirred, “Hm, stop it you mutt.”
Bucket ignored me and gave a particularly sloppy lick across my forehead. I sighed, tried to push him off, and then realized I didn't have the strength.
Even if I hadn't just gone ten rounds with countess Chocula and her bald sidekick, Bucket would still be hard to displace. The hound was well...massive. Being an Anatolian Shepherd, he easily outweighed me and had more in terms of muscle. That was why I'd got him, to be a guard dog, but sometimes having a one hundred and forty pound, clingy dog had its disadvantages.
Case in point, Bucket brought a paw down a little close to my recent injury. A flash of pain ran through my body. I whimpered.
Bucket immediately backed off and jumped from the bed. For a moment I was angry, then I saw those big, dumb puppy eyes looking up at me.
Being so adorable was cheating.
Taking advantage of the momentary snuggle ceasefire, I got up. It was a mistake.
The pain I'd felt before swelled up and made me wince. Turns out being stabbed hurt like hell. A quick glance down at my midriff showed a rather ugly looking bandage had been wrapped about my midsection. I thought about tearing it off and getting a look but soon realized I wasn't that dumb. I was dumb enough to get on my feet and struggle to find something more than undergarments to wear.
A quick glance outside my window showed that it was well into the night – some would even say early morning. It was hard to tell as I'd rigged my lights to always be on.
It was a bit childish but I had a rather intense fear of falling asleep in the dark. So much so that I had a number of bright lights placed about in my bedroom. The lights made falling asleep a bit difficult at times, but it beat getting no sleep at all. I'd tried going back to darkness, it didn't work. Seeing shadows tear apart one's mentor tended to have a rather crippling effect in that regard.
There was some noise coming from the living room, shuffling of feet and quite voices. It didn't concern me. More than likely it was my Gerald and if it wasn't...well I'd cross that bridge when I got there.
For the moment, I accepted the grave task of trying to put on a bathrobe. The bathrobe proved to be a terrible foe but, with the mental support of Bucket, I managed to lace it up and make my way out to the living room.
Unlike my bedroom, the living room was dark with only a central light being turned on. Below it, two men were talking.
Their conversation ended as soon as I stumbled out.
Gerald was the first of the men. He was as I remembered him, tall, muscular and with a jawline that you could beat a troll to death with. Much like Bucket, he possessed the eyes of a puppy. They latched onto me with concern that could only be born from love. Our love was that of siblings, not actual lovers. We'd both been apprentices under that same master, albeit he was my senior, and that made us the closest thing wizards had to family.
There was a slight tremble in my voice as I forced out a greeting, “Hello Gerald.”
“You probably shouldn't be walking,” the second of the two men said.
He was someone I'd never seen before. A medical practitioner of some kind as he was wearing scrubs and had a deep bags under his eyes. He had a slight bit of extra weight on him but also a natural confidence. It came from a cocky smile that showed he not only took great joy in his skills, but was too damned good at it.
There was also the fact that he was rolling with Gerald. My pseudo brother had a thing for weeding out incompetence. If he had brought this man here, then I had no reason to doubt his skills or abilities.
“I don't believe we've been introduced,” I said while hobbling my way across the floor, Bucket by my side.
“Harold,” he said with a nod. He leaned forward, offering his hand. I shook it and his grin widened a bit more, “No offense but ah, less I know the better.”
Smart.
“Understandable,” I turned to Gerald and gave a nod toward Harold – an implied question.
Gerald took the meaning quickly enough, “Fleshcrafter. Works at the university's medical center in town. Also patches up justicars when something takes a bite out of them.”
“Or stabs them,” Harold said with a grin. It suited him despite the hint of a double chin.
I managed to sit on the open chair at the end of the table, “How bad is it?”
“It WA S pretty bad but I worked my magic. Just a few spells to stitch up the flesh and accelerate the healing process. Infection shouldn't be a problem but I left some antibiotics on the counter for ya,” he seemed quite pleased with himself which I took as a good sign, “Just make sure to avoid getting it agitated for a few days.”
“About that,” Gerald narrowed his eyes at me, “What the hell happened? Found you bleeding out from a sword wound. Who uses swords anymore?”
“Vampires,” Harold said rather bluntly. Gerald gave him a questioning look, “Bite marks on the neck. Didn't get around to mentioning that part yet. Don't worry, I drained most of the venom.”
“Vampires? What in god's name were you doing with vampires?”
“Getting attacked, mainly,” I tried to hide the snark, he didn't deserve that, but, as the scorpion said to the frog, 'it is not my fault; it is that of my nature. It is a constitutional habit that I be a smart ass', or something like that – I never really listened to the old man's tales.
Gerald looked furious for a moment but he just let out a deep breath, “Look, you called me for help. I'm trying to but I can't really do that if you won't talk.”
Gods he was being so rea
sonable, I immediately felt like a massive tool, “Sorry,” I managed to mutter the alien words, “It was vampires. Two of them. Blood knights.”
Both men raised their eyebrows. Gerald confirmed, “Blood knights. Enforcers of the dragons, armed with death swords, those blood knights?”
It was hard to fight back the urge to say 'no, the other ones' but I managed and just said, “Yeah. Hench no wards. When they cut my skin, Proof! No more defenses,” I shrugged, “They had me at their mercy, Gerald. If they wanted to, I'd be...”
That earlier, momentary anger that Gerald had shown was replaced by absolute fury. It wasn't directed at me but at whatever had done this. It wasn't just for personal reasons. Gerald was a justicar, an enforcer in the street gang to which we wizard belonged. If someone had attacked a member of his community, then it was an insult to all. It didn't matter if it was the brightest star or a fallen idiot, of which I was the latter, an attack on one of us was an attack on us all.
Seeing that anger made me happy. Gerald hadn't completely lost hope with me.
He had been the most difficult to read follow our master's death. Most had simply blamed and condemned me. Gerald had swung between helping me one moment and than blaming me in the second. It was fair. I deserved that blame but it would be a lie to say I hated seeing him like this; caring about me again, if only for a moment. He had every right not to care at all.
“Why?” he finally managed to ask.
“Those murders they've been happening the last few days, you know the ones,” justicars kept taps on such things, looking for unusual incidents. He nodded, knowing what I was talking about “Well, I was looking into those. They wanted some papers that I dug up. Ambushed me on my way out and stuck me with a blade.”
“You went into a crime scene?” Gerald asked.
“Eh, not quite,” I pet Bucket absent, hoping to gain the strength to spit out the last bit of information, “It wasn't technically a crime scene yet...well not one that had been declared anyway.”
He shook his head, “There were a number of police vehicles across the street...did yo-Catherine, do you know what will happen if they pick up your prints, or find you on video?”
Harold perked up, “Wait, Catherine?” he looked at me with what could only be described an intrigued surprise, “Like thee Catherine?”
We both glared at the fleshcreafter, “Yes, that Catherine.”
Normally, people would recoil in horror at having learned my name. Came with the crime I committed, but Harold didn't turn and run at first sight. He just stiffened a bit, narrowed his eyes and peered over me – looking for something within my features. Perhaps he wondered what made someone earn the attention of demons. If he wanted an answer to any question of my crimes, I had none to give.
It happened, people died and that was it.
I blocked Harold from mind and tuned back to the conversation, “What does it matter if the cops find me. I'll just disappear. Isn't exactly much holding me here anyways.”
His scold melted a bit and, for a moment, I saw the old Gerald.
He was no longer the manly looking justicar with a chip on his shoulder. He'd become that older brother who'd give an arm and a leg without a second thought. Looking back on it, he'd always been the more mature of us. I was just an idiot kid with too much power and no real experience. Hell, that was still true. Him on the other hand, he had far too much responsibility and I only made it worse. Maybe disappearing wasn't such a bad idea, maybe I should have done it a long time ago.
“Catherine...” if looks could hug...
“It's the truth Gerald, don't try to pretend it isn't,” he didn't say anything so I continued, “But that's alright. I've come to terms with living on my own,” I turned to Bucket and forced a smile, “Besides I still have this mutt. Good thing about dogs. They don't know your sins. They love you unconditionally.”
I stood up.
“Look. I'm sorry for bothering the both of you with this. Thank you for the help but I've got it from here,” I noticed my own voice had become a bit strained. It was trying to sound upbeat for some reason, as if I hadn't been stabbed a short while ago.
“Not happening,” Gerald said, “Full story now.”
“Eh, actually if you don't mind, I'll step out for a bit,” Harold gave a nod to me, “It was nice to meet you Miss Catherine but I've got a shift in the morning so-”
“Thank you,” I meant it. There was a good chance I'd have been majorly screwed up if he hadn't been around. Fleshcrafting was a common hobby for wizards but it made it no less valuable, “If there anyway I can repay you.”
“That's alright,” he pointed a finger at Gerald, “I owe him a few so ah- don't worry about it.”
With that the medical student/wizard took off at the fastest slow walk possible. He clearly wanted to get away from me and I didn't blame him.
Most wizards held to the common belief that being near a demon corrupted one's soul. There wasn't' much substance to back it up as there weren't many who summoned demons; it was a forbidden practice. Out of the known members of the elder's club, only one had the unfortunate privilege to have done said forbidden act. Catherine Vane, cryomancer, demon summoner and general outcast; I could see the business card already.
Gerald noticed my apparent disappointment about my reputation, “Sorry about him. Good kid but-”
I cut him off, “It's fine.”
He grimaced but ultimately accepted my words “So why are you poking around in this business. If something supernatural is going around killing folks, leave it to us.”
“Justicars only care if wizards get hurt,” I explained, “When mortals are getting torn to shreds, who's going to help them?”
He shook his head, “The mortals have their own defenses. Guns, police and even the military if things get really out of hand. Let them handle their own matters. If we start going in every time a few humans go missing...well we don't have enough men to cover that kind of work. I've already got enough on my plate without adding a vengeful werewolf, or whatever it is, onto it. Christ sake, I haven't even seen Tessa in a week.”
“All the more reason for me to take this on,” I replied.
He shook his head, “Catherine, if you run around and get stabbed, it will become justicar business. We can't let one of our own get attacked and not strike back.”
I snorted a little laugh, “Come on Gerald, the elders have all but exiled me. Do you think that even one of them will lift a hand in my defense.”
“For you? No. For the group, damn right they will. We can't afford to look weak in front of the others. They're predators, vampires, werewolves and gods know what else. The moment they sense weakness...that's how wars get started.”
“Keep that in mind,” he said in conclusion, “If your going through with this, remember what you are. Until they finally press that button and exile you, you're a magi. It isn't a choice, it isn't a privilege, it's a responsibility born into your blood. The old man...I know he taught you that much.”
My anger flared up at the mere mention of our mentor. My words were quick and warning, “Gerald.”
He sighed, realized he touched on a sore topic, and moved on, “Look. I'm just saying that you need to be careful. I know you haven't been to a meeting in nearly a year so just sit down and listen.”
“We aren't in a good place. After the our master passed, the old guard cracked down on a lot of suspect practices. Necromancers who spoke with spirits, oracles who told half truths and even scam artist selling card tricks. The elders want to lay low, too much pressure from the old world powers to keep the secret. If they get word that you're throwing down with vamps in their backyard...things will get complicated. Catherine, you were a step away from being nullified last time.”
Nullification. The elders didn't believe in killing unless absolutely necessary. Our form of capital punishment was severing magic from an individual. A complete violation of our birthright and something that was only done as a last resort.
> I motioned for him to stop, “I get it.”
“I don't think you do. I know that look in your eye, you still want to go right back out there and pretend that nothing happened. First it was the filth monger in the sewers, then the goblins in the badlands...are you just looking for trouble these days. Most people would slow down after what happened, not you Catherine. You must have gotten a taste for the nonsense.”
“Enough!” I raised my voice, “You think I got a TASTE for this? I suppose I did. Do you know why the lights in my bedroom won't turn off? Because I'm afraid that it will come back one day. That when I'm sleeping the shadows will strangle me and drag me to the abyss...just like they did to him.
That's the taste I gained. Fear.”
Gerald regarded me coolly. I could tell he was feeling a boiling rage somewhere within himself.
He tried to act so composed, the perfect justicar who upheld rational thought but at the end of the day he couldn't forgot one single fact. That my carelessness had cost the life of the closet thing we had to father. For a moment, only a single second, I saw that same look that the others always wore. Hatred, unbarred by the nostalgia of our youth.
Bucket hopped onto the couch and snuggled himself against my shoulder, he sensed my own discomfort. He wanted it to end.
The justicar's eyes examined the dog for a moment, “That why you got him?”
“Animals are said to be sensitive to such things,” I offered as a reply, “Plus he can be quite the deterrent for home invasion. One bark from him would send most people running.”
He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, “ I'm sorry alright. Yo-you didn't deserve that. I know it was a mistake.”
“Do you?” I asked, “It would make you one of the few.”
“You can be a bitch but you don't go around summoning demons,” he sounded more casual, his momentary anger seemingly fading.
His comment made a faint smile appear on my face, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”