Page of Swords (The Demon's Apprentice Book 2)

by Ben Reeder

  “Bought it off the Internet, man,” he said as his eyes focused on me.

  I didn't need to use my mystic senses to know he was lying. His head made a satisfying thumping sound as I slammed his shoulders into the wall again.

  “You know, you should lie to me more often. I kinda like this part. Now, let's try it again, with the truth this time.”

  “I got it from a guy on eBay!” he said. I struggled not to play handball with his skull some more.

  “Don't lie to me!” I yelled. I punched him in the ribs to make my point, then slammed him against the wall. “Those decks can’t just be sent by mail! Someone has to give you control over it. You both have to be there! Who did you get it from?” I demanded again, this time almost yelling in his face.

  “It’s none of your damn business, man! It’s my deck!”

  “It’s my business when you pimp souls for a fucking demon!” I drew back and slapped him hard. He hit the wall and slid down a little ways before I caught him. I hauled him up and slammed him against the wall again to make sure I had his attention.

  “He would have left a mark on you, laid his hands on you somewhere. He marked you as his bitch, dumbass!”

  I pulled the front of his shirt up. His chest and belly were clean, no demon marks. I pulled him away from the wall and turned him around, then pushed him hard against the wall again. There was a rush of air as I knocked some of the wind out of him and pulled his shirt up over his shoulders.

  His back was clean, too.

  Where was the mark? A demon’s mark would have to be somewhere he could have touched easily, and if he didn’t know it was there, it had to be on his back. Demons didn’t give gifts. They made deals, and they always came out ahead.

  “Where’s your mark!” I demanded. I grabbed his right arm and turned it, looking along the inside.

  “Demon? What mark?” Julian asked. “What are you talking about, man?”

  He was afraid, maybe too afraid to be lying.

  My hands were shaking as I turned him back to face me again.

  “Ask him about Crystal!” Dani interrupted. She stepped up beside me and put her face close to Julian's. “Where is she, you son of a bitch?!”

  “Who?”

  “Her girlfriend, dumbass. Girl named Crystal.”

  “I don't know what you're—”

  The rest of it was lost as the world went sideways for a second. When things stopped jumping around in front of my eyes, I was on my back about ten yards away from Julian, and there was a familiar ache along my left side, the kind of pain that came with a broken rib.

  Another guy stood between me and him, looking over his shoulder and pointing at the mouth of the alley.

  “Run!” the new guy said. “I'll take care of this scumbag.”

  With the light behind him, I couldn't make out his face, and his hair fell down far enough to cover up any details I could have gotten from his profile. He looked big, and the arm that he had stretched out behind him was pretty thick. It was the baseball bat in his other hand that really got my attention, though.

  Julian didn't need to be told twice. I saw elbows and assholes as he sprinted for the street.

  Dani screeched, “NO!” and took off after him as he ran.

  The new guy turned back toward me, and I could almost feel the hate coming off of him.

  “I was hoping I'd find you again,” he growled as he hefted the bat.

  I scrambled to my feet and took a step back as he closed on me. “Do I know you?”

  “No, but I know you.” He took a quick step forward and swung the bat at my head.

  One knee hit the ground as I ducked under the swing, then I leaned back and swept his legs out from under him as he staggered into the follow-through. There was a clatter as the bat hit the pavement, and a meaty thud as he followed it down. I grabbed the bat as I got back up and backed away. Guilt turned my arms to lead, and I knew I couldn't hit this guy. Not if he had a legitimate beef with me from my past. And there were too many people who could say that.

  “Look, if I did something to you before, I'm really sorry. I didn't have a lot of choice, okay?” If I was hoping to calm him down, he wasn't buying. He put his hands back behind his head, drew his feet to his chest and sprang to his feet.

  “Not to me, scumbag.” He came at me again.

  This time, he was a little more cautious, fists up, on the balls of his feet, his eyes on the center of my chest. The first punch came from somewhere west of Seattle, and it was too easy to duck under. The uppercut that followed it, though, caught me square in the chest. When I could breathe again, he was standing over me, and he had that damned bat again.

  “Wait, please,” I managed to gasp out.

  “I'll give you just as much mercy as you showed Riker,” he said.

  My left hand dove into my jacket pocket as he drew the bat back for a swing. Riker McKane had deserved what I'd given him, which was nothing worse than a couple of sprained wrists. There was no way I was taking a beating over him, especially since I'd actually done him a favor by stripping him of the charms I'd put on him in the first place. The leather-covered barrel of my TK wand slipped into my hand as the bat started to come down, and I tried another one of the new spell triggers.

  I croaked out, “Obex!”

  A barrier of force sprang up a split second before the bat broke against it, and collapsed as the impact came in the moment before it stabilized. With no spell to fuel, the magick suddenly had no place else to go but backwards, and my vision went white as I took the feedback of the failed casting. It went red as I took the boot to the ribs, then I felt myself bounce off a wall.

  I'd heard that when people were having near-death experiences, they saw things. White lights, dead family members, angels. Some people thought they were hallucinating, some thought they were seeing the spirit world. The second group was right. The mind lowers certain defenses when it's in shock, and the Third Eye opens up. Maybe it's a survival thing, maybe it's just a lack of oxygen. All I knew was that I heard the clang of a bell, and this time, I saw a bright line of white light in front of me. Then I saw the darker image of a person's aura behind it, and I held the wand out in front of me and groaned, “Ictus!”

  The dull ache behind my eyes turned into a needle of fire as my vision went white again, and the memory of the bell was replaced by a hollow ringing in my ears.

  Chapter 3

  ~ To survive a fight, come well-armed and bring friends. ~

  Lazarus Moon, Master Mage

  The first thing I was aware of was the sound of my name being called. My vision was still one big blur of white, but I could hear something over the static sound in my ears now.

  “Lucas!” My voice was still weak, and talking felt like someone had put my head under a jackhammer. Raising my arm felt like picking up a bus. It hit the pavement after a few seconds, and all I could do was lay there.

  “Dude, what's with your eyes?” Lucas asked from beside me.

  I felt his hands on my shoulders, and suddenly, reluctantly, I was sitting up. That lasted for all of two seconds, then I felt myself slumping forward.

  “What about my eyes?” I asked as Lucas propped me back up.

  “Dude, they're glowing! You're like a damn puppet with the strings cut! What the hell happened to you?”

  “Spell backlash . . . and I got the crap beat out of me.”

  “You all right?”

  “Just broke a rib is all.”

  “Only you, man. 'Just broke a rib.' We better get you to Dr. C's place.” I felt hands plucking something off of me. “You've got splinters and wood chips all over you.”

  “Baseball bat . . . Lucas, there was another guy!” I blurted out. The surge of adrenaline helped me move my arms, and I turned toward the last direction I knew he'd been.

  “Still is.” The slugger's voice came from my left. “Get away from him, kid. He's . . . dangerous.”

  “You don't sound so sure there, asshole,” Lucas quipped. I f
elt his hand on my backpack as he spoke.

  “I can feel evil, and I could feel it coming off your friend in spades earlier.” Bottles and cans clattered on the ground while Lucas pulled my pack open.

  “It wasn't me you were feeling,” I said.

  “Your actions told me something different.”

  “You don't know Chance, dickhead. He's not evil.”

  “He's more likely possessed. Or he's got you fooled. Do you remember anything about the last ten minutes, Chance?” Slugger asked. Lucas' hand moved around slowly in my pack for a few moments, then I felt him grab something. I was guessing he had the Ariakon.

  “More than you'd like. Who in the Nine Hells are you?”

  “My name is Steve. Steve Donovan. Look, I can't feel anything off of you now, but I did earlier.”

  “That was Julian, dumbass,” Lucas scoffed. “He's gone: no more evil. Get it?”

  “But he was . . . he attacked him!” Steve's voice sounded closer, and I could hear the scrape of his shoes on the pavement.

  “And you attacked Chance. That makes you just as 'evil' as my friend here. Now, stop right there.”

  My pack got lighter as I felt Lucas stand up.

  “Look, there's no need for violence here. Put the gun down and we'll figure this out,” Steve said slowly. Never mind that he’d been ready to cave my head in a few seconds before. He sounded like a cop in a movie to me, trying to take control of the situation by sounding calm and reasonable.

  “You need to know anything else from this guy, Chance?” Lucas asked.

  “Tomorrow's lottery numbers?” I said quietly.

  Lucas chuckled, and I heard Steve's boots on the pavement. The Ariakon coughed twice, and I heard two splats.

  “What the—” Steve said. “That's just a paintball . . . gun . . .” he got out before I heard him hit the ground.

  The next thing I knew, Lucas had his arms under mine. He struggled to get me to my feet, in spite of my attempts to help.

  “Come on, let's get you out of here,” he said.

  “You didn't have to knock him out, ya know.”

  “Yeah I did. He wouldn't have just let us go. Besides . . . it just felt good.”

  “Seriously though, I owe you one.”

  “No, you don't. Now, shut up and move.”

  My feet started doing what they were supposed to after a few steps, and I started seeing colors other than white. By the time we made it to the elevator, I could start to make out shapes and I was grateful that the damage I'd done wasn't permanent. The last thing I needed was to go blind from a failed spell. The elevator dinged open, and we stumbled out. If I squinted, I could make things a little less blurry, but it made my headache worse, so I gave that up as a bad plan.

  “Lucas!” Wanda's voice came from behind us as we made it to the end of a row.

  I could see a blur that was about the right shape and color for the Falcon ahead of me, but Lucas turned to look back the way we had come from. I saw two people-shaped blurs headed in our direction, one wearing the same shade of red as Wanda's outfit, and another dark blue blur that looked the same color as Dani's clothes.

  “Is he okay?” Wanda asked as they got closer. “Great Mother! What’s with his eyes?”

  “Yeah, mostly. Just a couple of busted ribs and some spell backlash.”

  “You guys call that okay? 'Just' a couple of broken ribs?” Dani's voice trembled on the edge of hysteria.

  “Chance's seen a lot worse than that before,” Wanda said with a hint of pride in her voice. “Come on, let's get him to the car.”

  “But what about Julian? We have to break the spell! I need to find her!”

  “Listen, sister,” Wanda snapped. “Chance got his ribs busted up looking for your girl. Look at him. Even if he knew where she was, he's in no shape to do a DAMN thing!” Her voice rose to a yell at the end. It bounced around inside my head like a ball bearing in a tin can. I moaned and waved my free hand at her to shush her.

  “He'll find her,” Lucas added. He hustled me along a few more steps. “And he'll break the spell. But. Not. Tonight.”

  “He's lucky he's got such good friends,” Dani said. I barely heard her. For all the response she got from Lucas and Wanda, they might as well not have heard her at all.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Don't talk, dude. We're here.”

  An off-white blur moved inside the car. I heard the sound of a door unlocking. Lucas lowered me gently into the passenger seat of the Falcon and laid the seat almost all the way back.

  “Is he all right?” Giselle's voice skidded across my eardrums.

  “He'll live,” Lucas told her. “We need to get him to some help, though. You gonna be okay?”

  “Yeah. I came with some friends, I’ll catch a ride home with them. Thank you for showing me . . . what Julian was.”

  “Hey, no prob. That was mostly Chance.”

  Lace hissed against satin on my right. A gentle, vanilla-scented hand touched my cheek.

  “Thank you,” Giselle whispered in my ear.

  Soft lips caressed my cheek, then she was gone.

  Chapter 4

  ~ Things can ALWAYS get worse. ~

  Common proverb among magi.

  After that, things were a little fuzzy. I was aware of Wanda's face hovering over mine, and her hands on my face, warm through her gloves. Light pulsed against my eyelids. People around me talked quietly. One of the Falcon's doors opened and closed. Then, there was just the pattern of light and darkness, Wanda's touch, and her voice calling on her Goddess. My eyes snapped open when the car stopped. Wanda's concerned face was still there.

  “Chance, we're here,” she said.

  “Where's here?” I asked. My headache had faded from a spike of fire to a dull pounding behind my eyes. No more blurriness.

  “Dr. C's place. Can you see yet?”

  “Yeah. I think I can walk, too.”

  “Your eyes aren't glowing anymore.” She sounded relieved, and I shared the feeling.

  “Yeah, uh, Chance?” Lucas didn't sound so happy.

  I leaned up experimentally. My head didn't fall off my shoulders or threaten to explode, so I came up the rest of the way. My ribs threatened dire consequences if I moved again, but I ignored them.

  Lucas wasn't one to jump at shadows. After dealing with an empathic Emo girl and a guy who claimed he could sense evil, though, I was ready to start asking him to. His gaze was on something in front of us, and I looked out the windshield.

  “Oh, sweet Venus,” Wanda whispered softly, sounding like a prayer had been answered.

  Shade's silver Mustang was parked down the street. Not quite a shadow. Not quite a danger. Just another spike through the heart of an already-crappy night. The driver's side door opened, and while the dome light was on, I could see Shade was alone in the car. She stepped out, still in her outfit from earlier. Even in high-heeled boots, she was graceful as she walked.

  My hand fumbled for the door latch, and I spared a grudging glance to find it so I could get out. The cool air on my face helped my headache, and it helped me get other things under control. By the time she made it to the car, I was my usual surly self again.

  “Where's your boyfriend?” I asked. Yeah, I was smooth.

  “He's not my boyfriend, Chance. Tonight was . . . I wanted to talk to you about it, actually, but someone's been avoiding me. Please, Chance, I need my gothi. I need you.”

  Hearing her say that ripped something open inside me, and suddenly, all I could think of was having her in my arms. Right here, right now. In spite of what she’d said at Imbolc.

  “Anyone missing or dying?” It sounded harsher than I'd intended, but it was all I had.

  “No, but there's a—”

  “Then it'll have to wait. Someone is missing, and there's a warlock involved. I gotta talk to Dr. C. We can talk about whatever it is later.”

  So help me, she ducked her head like a whipped puppy. I felt about an inch tall right then.

/>   “Okay,” she almost whispered. “Please, Chance, I need to talk to you about this.” She brought one hand up and laid it on my chest. “Please.”

  Another word from her, and my resolve was going to crumble.

  “Later, okay?”

  She nodded and took a step back from me. I headed for Dr. C's front door with the loud sounds of Lucas and Wanda getting out of the Falcon behind me. I could hear them talking to Shade as I opened the wrought iron gate and headed up the walk. Hells, they still thought she and I had a shot at being together. In spite of my own wishful thinking, I knew better.

  Dr. C's place was the perfect house for a wizard. If I could have lived anywhere other than my mom's house, it would have been here. I didn't know Victorian from Gothic from a hole in the ground, but this place just oozed history in spite of the new paint job. Windows jutted out from the sides in sitting nooks, and the eaves were scalloped. The roof sported chimneys and lightning rods, and a big, beveled-glass window that looked out from the attic. My combat boots sounded loud on the wooden porch, and if a screen door could sound warm when it squeaked open, this one did. The house itself seemed to welcome me the first time I set foot in it six months ago. Since then, it had only seemed more and more like a second home to me.

  The door opened with a gentle thump. Something felt off as soon as I stepped across the threshold.

  “Dr. C?” My voice got swallowed up by the silence.

  Nothing looked off in the foyer. The lamps were still on, still shining warm against the dark gloss of the wood paneling. The coat rack held two unfamiliar coats though. My hands went to my back, and I realized my paintball gun was still in my backpack . . . out in the car. After the backlash of magick earlier, I wasn't eager to toss spells around. Just thinking about it made my head pound even harder. I still had my wand in my jacket pocket, though. And, I had a new toy that might take the edge off of the first couple of spells I might have to cast.

  I stuck my right hand into my front pocket. Snuggled in with a couple of cinnamon Firebombs was my touchstone. I'd only managed to get it to hold a store of magickal energy this afternoon, and evidently, just in time. With it, I wouldn't have to draw on my own energies, which were still pretty small, or on external magick, which took a greater toll on the body to focus. Besides, drawing on one of the ley lines that ran through the house would only warn whoever was here, if they were the least bit sensitive to magick. The touchstone activated with my touch and a thought.