by M. P. Taylor
“Contact their parents?” I asked.
Tessa shook her head and Gerald grimaced, “Not gonna happen. You know how it is, we find someone with the power and they have two choices. Join up or die.”
“Hell of a choice,” the young man said.
I turned to him with a look that could freeze over hell itself, “Silence yourself child, the adults are speaking.”
He spat on the ground, “Why? So you can torture us some more?”
“Yes. If that is what we decided, then that will be what happens. Understand, the both of you, you have no rights. You belong to no nation and were found to be consorting with a servant of a demon. You know what demons are, right?”
They both blinked in surprise, apparently they hadn't been told. I turned towards Gerald who shrugged, “We didn't tell them anything. They just got out of advance interrogation.”
“Christ,” I rolled my eyes, “Demons are real. Your 'master', he served one. Probably taught you a few basic spells and wanted to use you as cannon fodder. Congratulations on not getting killed and welcomed to the joyful world of magic. That is assuming we don't kill you. That is an assumption given that you were found to be accessories in the opening of soulwells in an attempt to summon a demon.”
“Which led to the death of many innocents and justicars,” Tessa added.
I gave her an approving nod.
The girl, spunky, Asian and with a hint of goth, she shouted at us, “Bullshit. You guys treat us like shit for days and you want us to believe you're the good guys!”
“Good guys,” I laughed a bit, “No. We aren't the 'good guys' we just aren't the one's summoning demons and getting good people killed. Do you know that, right now, there are spirits and monsters running around in Seattle, killing anything in their path, because your master went and tried to summon himself a demon. Think about it for a moment. He was using you, a bunch of dumb kids with a hint of magic. He probably leeched magic off of you and took it for himself.”
Gerald followed that line of reasoning, “He ever make you do things, as a group. Sex or some kind of sacrifice?”
They both stiffened, a telling answer that needed no words, “Yeah thought so. Which one?”
The girl spoke, her voice a slight whisper, “We ah...we had sex. He said it would make us stronger if we became closer.”
“Yeah rituals like that can create energy and emotion that can be channeled and shared, make you stronger if you capture it in the moment,” I explained. It was basic stuff really, emotions had power, and sex was very emotional, “Bet he never told you how to capture that energy. Just sucked it all up for himself. Probably took a little extra from the top while he was there. Would explain how he was able to open the soulwells at all. That kind of thing would normally take an entire coven.”
The kids didn't say anything and neither did we. They stewed in their own pour choices.
On some level, I felt sorry for them. They'd been used, just like I had been.
The reasoning was different but the principals the same. Someone older than us, tricked us into doing their bidding. In my case it was a demon, but that was a minor detail. I had been arrogant, trying to grasp a powers beyond my reach, and they had been trusting of someone they shouldn't have. Out of the two, I considered my sin to be the greater.
I looked at the two of them and made my judgment.
“Here's how its going to work. Gerald's going to grab Natasha, she's going to ask you to accept a geas, a magically binding contract. You can accept that, at which point we will try to put you on the right path. If you don't well...to be honest, she's probably kill you and there isn't much I can or will do to stop her.”
Gerald went and got Natasha while the kids mulled it over. When she arrived, they proved smarter than they looked. They accepted the terms and were allowed a second chance. A minor victory in a Pyrrhic month.
Chapter Twenty Four
The cold air of my apartment was a refreshing thing. It, along with the company of Bucket, made for a much quicker recovery. The stupid mutt was curled up in my lap as I finished reading over a text about enchanting living flesh. I'd been meaning to turn my dog into a weapon, a project to test my skill, but the research was time consuming.
My magic was still burned though so I had nothing but time.
“The string of murders continue to grow in number as special F.B.I consultant, Renold Arbor, continues to coordinate both police and nation guard forces to hunt down the origins of these most recent attacks,” a newscaster spoke on the television I had on the background.
It was a constant stream of depressing information, “We wish to remind everyone that curfew will continue to be in effect. Anyone found out after 7 P.M. will be brought to holding center until the following morning where they will be questioned and detained for up to one month.”
Least I wasn't the only one being locked down.
As the newscaster said, the city had been put under curfew. A logical action given the nearly five hundred murders that had taken place over the last month. Turns out, Arbor and Natasha had been a bit optimistic about 'a few' spirits breaking out of the ward. It was a legion of maddened creatures that had descended upon those weak of will, possessing and killing whenever the chance presented itself. And there were many opportunities, an entire city of unsuspecting mortals who thought magic nothing more than a myth.
It was a small mercy that my wards were still up. I didn't have to deal with that nonsense. Not yet.
“Should I make you bulletproof or give you the ability to teleport?” I asked Bucket.
Bucket answered by tilting his head and yawning, “Bulletproof. You're far to dumb to teleport...end up in a wall.”
Bucket curled up along my leg, I pet him absently.
A knock came to my door.
That was odd. Night had fallen and the roads were closed. Military checkpoints made it hard to move about, even for wizards. I grabbed my long sword, which Natasha had found for me, drew it, and went to the door. It was the only real weapon I had since my pistol was lost somewhere and my staff was just a piece of iron while my magic was offline.
Peeking through the sight, I saw a young woman. Her aesthetics were rather graceful, a soft complexion and red hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. Her athletic build was mostly concealed by her choice of clothing, a black coat. I didn't know her, or have the slightest clue as to who she might have been associated with.
With a sigh I cracked the door, “Can I help you?”
She looked me over, unimpressed, “Catherine Vane?”
“The one and only.”
“Lady Irena has asked me to escort you to her lair,” the woman explained.
“Liar? Does she live in a cave?” I joked, but my company didn't seem to be in a joking mode, “Fine, fine. I'll be out in just a second.”
The journey to Irena's 'lair' was a very strange thing. Seattle under curfew looked like something out of dystopian fiction.
We took a limo, a pour choice of vehicle as it needed to be searched no less than ten times as we moved through the city. My companion was armed to the teeth with a number of sidearms under her jacket, but she presented some sort of I.D and we passed through the checkpoints.
Others weren't so lucky. At each checkpoint there were dozens of vehicles that had been pulled off to the side, searched and the owners gathered into military trucks.
The curfew was serious business. Those people would spend a night in a cell and repeat offenders would be slapped with a fine and possible jail time.
I blocked the city's woes from my mind and enjoyed a nice complementary water from the limo's fridge. One thing I will say about evil, it pays.
My new companion sat in the back with me. She didn't look at me nor give the slightest hint as to the purpose of our trip. I didn't ask. Irena's geas force me to come as I believed the woman to be one of her agents. She was just Irena's style – pretty, female and with an attitude problem. I wondered if she was thinking the same a
bout me. Her gaze earlier had been annoyed as though she thought this entire task to be well below her.
Frankly, she was the least of my concerns. I had a meeting with a vampire and I'd been dreading this moment from the second we parted company.
Irena's behavior had been different from what I would expect from the blood knight's reputation. They were said to be peerless warriors and commanders, but Irena had been playful.
No, that wasn't quite right. The playfulness was there, true, but it was always made with a hint of a threat – a promise of power that would be unleashed if she didn't get her way. She had snuck into my bed without a sound, past my wards, and made it quite clear that I was hers. It wasn't just the geas. She seemed to think that her not killing me made me her property.
A childish notion, but one that had been made true by our geas. I shuddered in my seat, fearing the unknown nature of our relationship. She was helpful before, bringing Gerald back to me, but that was just a ploy to get my cooperation. She had wanted Harold dead and I was a tool to that end . Me ending up in a soul bound contract was just the icing on the cake, one that was probably made with blood.
The question was, what would she want now that there wasn't an immediate threat?
There was plenty of time to contemplate my future as the ride was quite long. We traveled to the northern outskirts and onto the more elusive countryside. I dozed off for a bit.
Our arrival was announced to me by a rough push.
“We're here,” my companion announced.
I mumbled something about about cursing her existence and got up. My companion didn't look threatened, clearly she knew my magic was still offline, otherwise she would have been terrified.
When the driver opened the door for us, I was greeted by quite the sight. I hadn't known that there were any Victorian era palaces outside of Seattle, clearly I was misinformed.
Irena's lair looked like some kind of French or Spanish palace from the Napoleonic era of world history. It didn't have great walls or heights, largely having been built over a vast area in front of me and rose, at most, four stories. A garden lurked between the driveway and the main entrance, a beautiful sight of white flowers and blossoming red leaved trees that seemed unaffected by winter. Once more, evil pays.
Along the perimeter I saw a number of vaguely humanoid shapes, and near the gate, a black painted entrance, lurked two men. They wearing heavily padded greatcoats made of fine materials and held automatic weapons in their hands.
A uniformed appearance that matched up with those of my traveling companion. Colors of red and black with a pin on their collar, a golden crown over sphere that represent the sun – the symbol of the dragon.
I let out a whistle, “Not bad.”
“The Lady Irena takes great pride in the citadel,” my guide told me as we walked along the approach, “I must advise you to show proper respect both to the lady and to the grounds. We will take any failure to do so as an insult to her honor.”
“We?” I asked.
“The daylight guardians,” she said as though I were a fool for not knowing, “We oversee our lady's affairs when she is restrained by the light. Our families have been in service to her since time immemorial. We take our task rather seriously. That task being the protection of our lady, as well as her reputation.”
“And should I insult the 'Lady'?”
“It would be my duty to challenge you to combat,” she shrugged a bit, “I've been briefed on you. I do not like my odds, but I'd fight you all the same. Should I fail, another would take on the task until Irena's honor is avenged.”
There was a moment when I considered making a jest at her expense, insulting her bloodline and duties, but I decided I'd rather not have to fight a duel. My magic was still offline but more than that, I simply didn't insult crazy people as a rule... unless they were already trying to kill me, then it was a sound strategy.
With a held back tongue, we made our way into the building.
The guards at the door gave salutes to the both of us but otherwise didn't impeded our advance.
On the interior there was no light save for that made by candles laid about the place. Most impressive were the chandeliers. They were made of what looked to be hundreds of candles all of which were lit. It must have taken hours each day to prepare such a thing. That didn't seem like it would be a massive issue given the number of servants that were moving about the place. Most of them were dressed in the garb of maids or butlers.
They never looked in my direction as though my presence was a normal thing. It hurt my ego. I was a big bad wizard, fear me.
There was one more oddity that came to my attention as we made our way about. There were no windows in the building, not even indentations where they might have once been. That had to be a violation of a fire code. The amount of candles mixed with no escapes made for one fiery tomb if something went wrong.
“The Lady Irena is awaiting you in her study,” my escort said while gesturing to a door at the end of the hall.
I wondered if I was suppose to tip minions. Shrugging, I opened the door.
Irena's study was an all too indulgent room that look like something a wizard would have in their most fanciful dreams.
Library would be more exact. Two stories with a rolling ladder, and bookshelves that were packed with ancient manuscripts. My eyes danced across the binding and saw names that were spoken of only in hushed tones – 'Le Morte De Morgana', 'Names of the Seven Lord', and even a copy of 'Nota Dues'. Each of them was priceless. Most wizards would gladly give up their sight or even limbs to read the passages.
It was pure instinct that drew my hand up toward 'Le Morte De Morgana', it had been my favorite story as a child. A young sorceress who stood against an entire empire of witch hunters and monster slayers. 'Le Morte De Morgana', was said to be her journal – the true story. Her spell book as well which would have prove invaluable as Morgana was considered the most powerful wizard of the last thousand years. That point was punctuated by the fact that she was still alive – a living legend of magic who knew more than any of the elders.
My hands just touched the bindings when Irena spoke, “I knew you'd go for that one.”
I stiffened and turned around.
Irena was there. Her eyes, bright with the color of blood and looking into mine with an intensity that made me shiver. A small smile curled on her lips and it took a good deal of effort to recover and apply a neutral expression as opposed to one of a frightened girl. She didn't buy it for a moment.
“Why?” I asked, motioning to the book, “The others are equally worthy of attention.”
“You and Morgana are quite similar,” she said with confidence, “She was always getting into trouble, running from one bad situation and into another. You have a similar taste as well – too much power for one so young.”
That was high praise, Morgana was the closest thing we had to messiah. I wasn't sure if Irena was just complimenting me or if she was actually speaking truth. Given that Irena was a vampire, an immortal creature, it was quite possible that she'd meet the most famous wizard of all.
That didn't make me more comfortable. It just spoke to the age and power of the blood knight who stood before me. I took my hand from the book's binding and turned my attention to the 'lady' Irena.
She was wearing clothes for the moment, I had to admit I was slightly disappointed.
A simple night gown with black material and red highlights covered her. Upon the folds could be seen a symbol – a shield within which was a single drop of blood. The meaning was well known as it belong to the warlords of the most powerful organization in the new world. It belonged to the blood knights. Did she have it on her undergarments as well?
That thought gave me enough humor to avoid being overwhelmed by desire. I'd never been one to favor women over men, but Irena had a certain irresistible quality that came from flawless beauty and deadly function. That or, perhaps I simply hadn't considered the pleasing qualities of my own gend
er before I'd meet her. Certainly, I'd had an awakening to that line of thinking.
Too many restless nights with her in my mind would do that, though I did wonder if perhaps it was a lingering attraction from the last time she feed upon me.
“Thank you, I think,” I wasn't quite sure how to take her earlier words but my response seemed to please Irena. Her smile grew and a soft laugh escaped her lips. I glowered a bit, “what's so funny?”
“Nothing darling,” she said, recovering from her fit of laughter, “you're just so very cute when you're afraid.”
“I'm not-” Irena interrupted my words by surging forward. I flinched and took a step back.
Irena giggled, I frowned “Stop that.”
“But tormenting you has proven to be a delightful experience and we immortals do get so bored,” she brought her hand up and placed in on my shoulder. Our eyes meet as she said the next few words, “Sadly, all good things must end. You needn't fear me. You are mine now, and I do not hurt my own.”
“What if I don't want to be yours,” I dared to ask.
Irena tilted her head slightly to the side, “Then you clearly haven't given much thought to the matter. I've acquired much in my long lifetime. I can give it to you – knowledge and power that will make your peers envious and your rivals terrified.”
“All for the small price of my soul?”
“Darling, I already have your cooperation. With the geas, I could simply make you accept nearly any offer that I made,” she brought her hands about my shoulder and pulled in until we were in far too intimate an embrace, “But I won't. You will accept my resources of your own will, because they will cost you nothing. You will become more powerful and that will be a reward in and of itself.”
“Ah, I understand,” the logic was simple, “Since I am yours, you have no trouble with me becoming more powerful. After all, a more powerful tool is simply a more useful one. And that's what I am to you, a tool.”