Heart of Gold_An Urban Fantasy Novel

by J. A. Cipriano

  I had to give it to Marcus. He had a talent for going big with things in a classy, restrained sort of way. Sure, the thing in question was a ritual that would probably fuck over the entire world, but hey, we all have our quirks.

  As Luna had informed us down below, the ritual chamber Marcus had the building drag us to was fucking huge. The walls were made of polished steel and gleamed like mirrors so the immense room seemed even larger than it was.

  To add to the illusion, square columns with a glossy black finish were spaced evenly around the room to serve as structural supports. The chamber definitely had a trippy vibe to it, even without the obsidian altars, glowing red pentagrams, and billowing black tapestries I’d expected. Like I said, restrained class.

  Unfortunately, the small army of wizards definitely broke up the smooth aesthetics of the place. Every variety of cultist you could conjure up in your mind’s eye stood calm and ready. There were wizened old men, hot sorceresses, average-looking folks, monsters, and card-carrying robe-wearing stereotypes. Just to add some extra spice to the mix, there were a few more of those guys in magic’d-up TALOS suits keeping a sharp eye out for more last-minute bullshit.

  The other thing that really stood out was the kid in the comfortable-looking office chair in the dead-center of the chamber.

  From the dark skin to the curve of his cheek, Max Perez looked like he’d picked up most of his mother’s good qualities (of which there were many). Still, I was pretty sure the wire-brush blonde hair had come from his father.

  Other than being in some sort of half-sleep, Max seemed okay. He didn’t look hurt, but the gaudy and enchanted-as-hell chains around his wrists and ankles were enough to get my gander up. Those chains were pretty fucking weird, made of linked plates as opposed to loops of metal, each having minute inscriptions I certainly couldn’t read, even if I were close enough to make them out clearly. Either Max was the most powerful sorcerer in the room or that was some serious overkill. I’ll be honest, neither option was especially comforting.

  While Gabriela had stopped straining against the inflexible bands of drywall and steel holding her down, the sight of her son made her start thrashing once more. Though she couldn’t get out anything coherent through the cables stuffed in her mouth, I attempted my best translation, “You sick fuck, kidnapping a kid! Let Max go before I shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll be tasting leather for a week!” Yeah, I added some pizazz to the translation. What of it?

  Needless to say, old Marky Mark didn’t even spare her a passing glance.

  “I know it must seem like I am playing the villain,” Marcus said, like he was having a perfectly normal, casual conversation with us. To be fair he would have been, you know, if we weren’t being held by steel cables in the middle of a ritual chamber surrounded by toadies, “What with me dragging you into my inner sanctum at the culmination of what you must think is my evil plan to, well, what is it they usually do in the movies, Mr. Butcher?”

  “Take over the world?” I offered, practically spitting the words at him. “Nah, that isn’t it. Wait, wait, I’ve got it! You’re starting up a boy band to harness the power of shitty pop music?”

  Surprise of surprises, he actually cracked a smile. “Your sense of humor is everything I imagined it to be. Still, I hate to tell you that you’re wrong on both counts.” Marcus sighed deeply. “Now, allow me to go into the stereotypical step of explaining what is about to happen here. I do so in an attempt to make the motivations behind my actions plain and make you realize the necessity for this course of action.” The asshole honestly looked a bit broken up as he lowered his gaze. “Neither of you truly think I want to do any harm to a child, do you?”

  Gabriela tried to spit out more venom through her gag as I let out a bit of a laugh. “Look, pal, I’ve seen more than enough shit in this world to believe just about any horrible, petty bullshit done by fuckwagons like you is done in the name of some messed-up cause. You certainly didn’t bat an eye at killing truckloads of people so far in this war.”

  The crowd of assembled cultists mostly kept quiet, but there was a low murmur of discussion going around the whole time.

  “War is messy. There are casualties…” Drakos stopped and massaged his temples slowly with his fingertips; you could see the stress wrinkles and the crow’s feet around the eyes. “You have no real idea of the forces at work here, Frank. I’m not saying you’re an idiot or anything, but you simply do not have the full knowledge to properly assess what is going on.” Marcus glanced over at Gabriela. “Gabriela, I’m going to release your bonds in a moment, but please try to be civil once I do so. If you try to make trouble, know that the anti-magical wards in this room are more than capable of ending any hostilities before you can utter two words.” He cracked a sad smile. “In fact, I’ll be most surprised if you survive long enough to say the second word.”

  Gabby glowered with those dagger-shooting eyes of hers but calmed down in her bonds, while I proceeded to smart-off to the head honcho. “Oh, well shit! That changes everything! We can totally excuse kidnapping, mass cop killing, blowing up a cancer clinic, and ruining my film collection because you had a really good reason.” I glared at him as a sudden bout of rage filled me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. Who did this douchebag think he was? “Get fucking real, man. You sound like every two-bit thug who drank too much Kool-Aid.”

  He waved a hand at (to my infinite surprise) both of us and the tendrils of the building pulled back into it, leaving no trace there’d ever been even a thread of carpet out of place. Not so surprising was the fact some of the paramilitary guys were on us in a second, divesting of us anything even remotely dangerous. Of course, they couldn’t touch our real ace in the hole, the Aztec doohickey rattling around my rib cage, at least, not without a decidedly more direct method.

  Drakos was about to open his big mouth again after our pat-down, but the Doc butted right in. “What are you going to do to my son? I don’t want to hear another word before you get that out of your trap!” On a scale from one to ten on the “no-fucks-given” scale, Gabriela’s voice had gone all the way to eleven. So yeah, I let her do her thing while I took advantage of the situation to get a proper gander at the mystical shit going on here. After all, someone had to tear it all down, and I really wanted to be that someone. I mean, yeah, that’s why I was here, but there’s a huge difference between being able to do something and wanting to do something, ya know?

  “You have every right to know at this point, Gabriela, and we still have a little bit more time.” Marcus folded his hands in front of him, like he was making a big confession, which I suppose he was. “First, understand that your son is a keystone for all of our work, both the White and the End. It wasn’t something we chose, mind you. It was a circumstance of fate.”

  “Stop with the obfuscation and meandering mysticism! I get enough of that from Roland, and I frankly think we’re all sick of it,” the Doc fired back. Her comment actually got a few muffled sounds of support from the onlookers. “My Max is special, yes, to me and Max was special to his father before your people killed him, but he’s just a normal boy.”

  As Gabriela said the words, I wondered if that was true. Clown shoe or not, Marcus seemed like a smart guy, and I somehow doubted he would go through all the trouble to take Max if he wasn’t really fucking important to this ritual. I mean, okay, the guy was totally an “ends justifies the means” jackoff, but at the same time, it didn’t make sense. No, Gabriela was missing something.

  Marcus let that first comment roll off his back like it was water, and he was a duck. “In most every respect and through most every way we have to perceive him, Maximillan is, indeed, normal. However, if one was to follow the lines of his ancestry, one might find they meet the very precise needs for this ritual. In short, he is the only conduit that can fulfill those needs.” What had started in my eyes as a blinding jumble of magical threads and eye-searing light started to resolve itself into an immense tapestry of magic before
me as he continued on, “In a thousand generations, there likely won’t be another unique individual like Max, a boy special for the sole reason that he is who he is.”

  Even though his words grated on my nerves, I ignored them as la Corazon laid the ritual bare before me. As it did, I almost wished it hadn’t because in that moment, I realized exactly what the dipshit was saying. You know how I already said that the threads of magic were everywhere, wound into everything, binding it all together? (Star Wars was so right, it’s not even funny) Well, I hadn’t noticed before, the other times I was looking at the stuff that wove the world together, that every person, every living thing was sewn into the world just a little bit differently. I know this is some next-level shit, but bear with me!

  Some people were stitched in better, with thicker thread and more strands binding them into the bigger tapestry around them. Some folks had less, as if they were barely even meant to be there. It really wasn’t a surprise that Marcus along with some of the others in the room, were wrapped up in so many threads, they were practically mummies.

  Gabby was woven in tightly as well. The tapestry of magic must have thought she was pretty important. Me, well, that was the funny thing. I couldn’t see my own threads. Probably for the best, ya know? I don’t know if the world can handle a Frank Butcher who knows the universe finds him to be a vital part of it.

  The thing was, all of them combined was chicken scratch compared to Max. The kid wasn’t just woven into the magic of the world with the best stitch Momma Butcher could whip up. No, he was tied into the whole damned show. You know how you can unravel an entire fucking sweater if you pull on that one key thread? Welcome to the key thread. Max Perez was the linchpin on the trailer, the finishing stitch of the quilt, the keystone of the arch.

  Simply put, Max wasn’t just a big deal. He was the whole goddamned deal.

  Oh, and the actual magic? That big monster ritual assembled from thousands of little rituals, just like a Detroit muscle car, with giant webs of spells that filled the sky? It didn’t just run through this room and through Max’s chair and chains. It filled the ritual room, taking up every inch of empty air. Each pulse of energy running through it overloaded my vision for a second, turning this whole scene into an industrial rave concert.

  Ignorant of all this, the Doc scoffed. “Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes! We both know ‘fate’ and ‘destiny’ aren’t real concepts.” She gestured broadly around the room. “You Enders especially don’t put stock into this sort of thing. Magic and science are joined at the hip and both rest on the foundation of observation and reasoning.” Her hot-blooded passion was boiling over as she pointed one angry finger at Marcus. “Even if you’re right and Max is essential to what you’re about to do, is the horror you’re about to unleash worth risking my son’s life?”

  “Gabby, he’s not fucking around,” I hard-whispered, still trying to wrap my head around all of this. The immensity of the magic here was overwhelming and, to be honest, frightening.

  Now, Frank Butcher doesn’t scare (at least not easily), but Frank Butcher was also told he could hurt himself, maybe even kill himself by pushing his new heart of gold too hard. I had almost cracked my sternum shutting down the Monster Mobile, and while I was stronger now, that was baby league shit compared to what was looming before me.

  “Mr. Butcher is right, and he’s seeing things clearly for once.” Marcus raised his hands disarmingly. “Doctor, you speak of science and observation, so you must realize there is no hard evidence on what a world deprived of magic will actually be like. You yourself know the horrific things magic is capable of, threats to the cults and the mundane alike.” His hands clenched defiantly, and he shook with righteous anger. “How many near-misses have to happen before one doesn’t actually miss? Statistically speaking, on a long enough time frame we’re doomed, and not just because magic is infinitely more dangerous than anything science has come up with.”

  Gabriela’s brow knit together, betraying a hint of doubt. She looked over at me. “Frank, they took John away from me. They can’t have Max too.” She wasn’t trying to convince me. No, I could tell that much. She was trying to convince herself, to shore up her convictions. Still, there was no way any mother worth her salt would let her son die, no matter how noble the reasons, and Gabriela was no different.

  Now, I’m not much of a Bible guy myself. I never really had the heart for it, but I do remember one story about this guy Solomon and how he had a baby he was going to split in half. His judgment caused the real mother to relinquish her claim on the child in order to save him. That was the look on Gabriela’s face right then. The look of a mother who would do anything to save her child, and if I didn’t step in and handle business, all that would do would get her shot full of holes.

  I, on the other hand, could fix this. I had to fix this. It was the only way to save both Gabriela and Max. I just had to be willing to use la Corazon one more time. If it meant saving Max and Gabby, I could do that.

  Marcus kept talking, his tones measured and soothing as he turned to walk toward Max. “I understand this is a hard reality for you to face, Gabriela, but you’ve danced across both sides of this issue for years. You’ve explored medical science to heal the sick, delved into the depths of magic to find answers science couldn’t give you, and fought back and forth with your elders to combine both approaches. You must see we have a duty to support the natural order over the excesses of magic.” He looked back at us, and it seemed like he’d aged ten years in that brief moment. “You’ve lost so much for this moment, intentionally or not, and I’m sorry for that, Doctor, but it won’t be in vain. That I promise.”

  “Yeah, sacrifices are always nice when you’re not the one making them eh, Marcus?” I snapped before I could stop myself. In the end, it always seemed like this. The one calling for others to sacrifice never gave up anything themselves. It was way too easy to sit in a high tower far removed from any threat and issue ultimatums that led good people to their deaths.

  “I am making a sacrifice, Frank.” He took a deep breath. “For me and mine, magic is a way of life. It may not seem like much, but for us, this is like a billionaire giving away every last cent to go live in the streets.” He gave me a hard look that would have made me squirm if I was a lesser man. Still, there was no comparison between giving up your wealth and power and asking a mother to give up her son.

  “It’s her son, Marcus,” I said as the thought of how hard it had hit my mother when my brother Bobby had died. No, I wouldn’t stand by and let this happen again, even if it was for the greater good. I couldn’t.

  “Frank, let me be frank with you for a moment.” A smile ghosted across his lips as he spoke. “I admire the bravery you’ve shown, diving into an unknown world and standing by Gabriela when she needed you. It’s commendable, but you’ve looked through the eyes of la Corazon. You know the price to be paid to have the smallest chance of pulling down the threads here.” He let out another breath, and almost seemed to deflate as he let it out. “I know the kind of man you are, Mr. Butcher. There’s nothing wrong with valuing your life. Not everyone is that special someone who can make the ultimate sacrifice.”

  It’s never easy when some asshole throws shit into your face and is pretty much dead-on about it. Oh, yeah, I had done some crazy shit these past few days for Gabby, really stuck my neck out. That’s indisputable fact.

  I mean, okay, I had a force field put on me the moment la Corazon was jammed into my chest, but at the same time, we Butchers feel really strongly about family. Still, if I did something, if I used la Corazon to destroy this ritual, didn’t I risk destroying la Corazon and killing myself?

  After all, I had more than Gabby’s kid to worry about? What about my family? Momma Butcher was crotchety sure, but after Bobby’s death, I was all she had left. Who would take care of her if I killed myself to maybe, possibly save Gabriela’s kid?

  There was also that additional little wrinkle of God (well, gods technically) being
real, which probably meant Hell was real. I was certainly no saint, and I’d done plenty of sinning. Probably best to hold that off for as long as I could, right?

  Instead of waiting for me to respond, Marcus started to chant in a low, rumbling language that made my ears hurt just to listen to. It wasn’t something of our Earth, nothing natural to be sure. In a moment, most of the assembled Enders began chanting as well. Their combined voices bounced off the mirrored walls and filled the air.

  “Frank?” It was a mother’s plea, with a thousand emotions all bundled up into it and slamming me in the gut.

  It was also completely unnecessary.

  You see, I’m a lot of things. I’m an asshole. I can be a jerk, too. I make plenty of bad decisions, including a couple that put my life in the dumps. Let’s not forget my boundless well of cynicism and sarcasm. The thing is, though, at the end of the day, I can’t stand by when some arrogant-as-fuck Eurotrash billionaire picks on a kid. I just don’t like bullies much, I suppose.

  If I was going to ever pick a hill to die on, a line to draw in the sand, well, there wouldn’t be a finer one than this one. Even Momma Butcher would understand that. Assuming the ritual didn’t kill me outright by sucking the magic out of my chest, if I came back to my mom, hat in hand, she’d slap the taste out of my mouth, and with good reason. No, saving Max would make my momma proud, and for me, that was as good as gold.

  As black tendrils of magical shadow slithered out of the mirrored walls and black columns, the chant started to reach a crescendo. Over all that, I called upon la Corazon. As it began to thump in my chest, golden light filled my vision. Power rippled through the very air around me, thrumming in time with my heart. A smile crossed my lips as I bellowed at Marcus, “Hey, asshole!”

  Drakos didn’t break his chant, but his head swiveled toward me, eyes in the throes of victory and validation. He really thought he was going to win this thing. Hadn’t he seen even one movie ever? He’d dashed that chance to bits the moment he’d embarked on his villainous monologue.