by Ryan Attard
Luke’s shin burst into flames, allowing him to stand up. He hobbled in place a couple of times.
“You didn’t think we’d know about the super secret Fight Club?” he taunted. “How they whooped your ass in shape. Or how all that work you did was for nothing. Mr. Greede still got what he wanted — you can’t stop him.”
I chuckled. “So it’s mister Greede, is it? What’s up, Luke? You were such a tough guy the last time I pummeled you. Where’s all that firepower now?”
He grimaced. “Right here,” he said, extending his forearm. The black ring glowed ever brighter in the color of ultraviolet. I could feel the foul magic emanating, covering the entire area.
“Don’t do it,” I said. “That’s not the kind of thing you can come back from.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m not gonna let you stop me another time.”
“What’s in the truck, Luke?” I demanded. “What are those black bones?”
Luke cocked his head. “You don’t remember,” he said. Then he grinned. “Did you know Greede has a file on you? Got everything he needs to know right at his desk. Your methods, connections, where you go, what you do, how you do it. Hell, he even knows what time you take a shit in the morning. And he noticed a change in you, Erik. You came back from that island a broken man, and it shows. PTSD, he called it.”
It wasn’t that a cold shiver ran down my spine — I felt as if I was submerged in cold water, unable to breathe, move, or even think.
Alan Greede knew me. Me, the real me, the human beneath all the magic, the man who goes to therapy every other Tuesday — he knew it all.
And the fact that he knew about it somehow tainted it. Made it less real. In that one second, Luke and his master took from me the possibility of recovery.
Fuck this. If you want to keep me submerged in darkness, you’re about to experience what that really is.
Rage gave it life. I always had a problem with anger. So many things are out of my control, so much shit just landed on me, that it’s hard not to get angry at the world around me.
But rage by itself does nothing except increase your chances of heart failure.
You have to learn to channel that rage, give it focus. You learn when to cut loose and when to hold back. You learn to dull out any other sensation until it’s just you and your target.
I felt the power rise up from within me, converging on my skin. My curse, my alter ego, my hidden weapon — living shadows that further pulled me in darkness. This was my drug. I had relied on it too much on that island, and became addicted when I came back.
But what was the point of holding back, of imposing restrictions, or even all that ‘human’ training, if they took away the possibility of getting better?
Luke felt the surge of magic coming from within me. He grinned and pressed the black ring on his arm.
“Ignis!”
The trigger word set him ablaze. Orange and red flames covered him form head to toe until he was no longer human, but a living elemental of the flames he commanded. Had I not been in my state I would have been impressed with such high level of magic, and then horrified at its nature. Any magic that pulled you away from your humanity was a pitfall.
I knew that very well.
Even without either one of us making a move, shadows and flames met each other, dancing about, testing each other.
The ground shook and I was thrown off my feet. Asphalt roiled under Luke, upsetting his stance and forcing him backwards.
Amaymon stood next to me, his penetrating feline eyes locked onto mine.
It says a lot about me when a freaking demon manages to stop me from doing something extraordinarily stupid. Just that one look was enough to make me remember our promise.
Amaymon, being my familiar, was the first to notice the change. It was gradual, but he knew before I did. And he told me something that I would later learn in therapy: I needed to stop fighting on my own.
I was alone on the island, just as the Grigori had singled me out and made it impossible to retain any allies.
But the demon pointed out that was no longer the case. I had a team with me, a team that had grown in numbers. A team that on more than one occasion had my back.
Which is why I gave him an absolute order — something I did only once before since acquiring a contract with him as my familiar (at the time I had ordered him to stop destroying my office in petty acts of revenge).
If I lose it, pull me out.
Sure, this was supposed to be a one-on-one battle against the Pyromancer.
But fuck him! He wasn’t worth throwing out all the progress I made just because my ego wanted to prove I had a bigger dick.
Amaymon offered me a hand and as I stood up, I felt my shadows evaporate into nothingness.
He nodded. That was it. No need for thanks or words of reprimand. Amaymon wasn’t the cuddly type.
“So,” he said, turning his attention towards Luke. “You got yourself an upgrade, huh? Suck old Greede-y’s dick and you get yourself a boost.”
Luke crouched, ready to fight, but remained stationary.
Amaymon shrugged.
“Come on,” he said. I didn’t miss the sadistic grin. “You might just be powerful enough that killing you would be necessary. And I’m itching to get my hands all bloody.”
The ground shook. Rocks jutted out, responding to the demon’s bloodlust. Buildings began swaying. Windows shattered. Long snakes furrowed along anything made out of concrete. As an Earth elemental, Amaymon had absolute command over anything… well, anything earth-based. I usually limit his power — this little display was less than ten percent of what he could do.
At thirty percent, I saw him bring down a mountain. Like, a whole fucking mountain.
Hence why I get worried when he decides its a good idea to cut loose. Which, if you’re a crazy demonic psycho, is all the time.
Luke knew this. He could fight me — when I was holding back — and have a chance. He was a Specialist, meaning his magic was a cut above all else. Sure he was limited to only one school on magic, Pyromancy in his case, but he could use it to the highest level any human could.
Luke was a really powerful magic user.
On the other hand, Amaymon was a demon older than our freaking solar system, one of the four Elemental brothers that helped shape Hell, served under the Demon Emperor as his own personal Darth Vader, and is considered by many as the most dangerous denizen of Hell that ever existed (second only to the Demon Emperor, but that dude’s long gone).
In other words, Luke had absolutely no-fucking-chance of coming out of this one alive. Or in pieces. Or at all. Amaymon would disintegrate him. Or eat him and then disintegrate him.
My familiar prides himself on his imagination.
And people wonder why I need therapy.
Luke culled his powers just as Amaymon sensed the magic and responded. The rock spike speared into Luke, who erected the largest wall of fire I had ever seen. This massive construct of flames roared over our heads about seven storeys high, and came crashing down.
I threw myself to the side and ran like crazy. Amaymon raised the ground to meet the flame tsunami. As it crashed, flames spread out like a sea of red and yellow.
Fire ate at my body, burning away everything but my beast-hide trench coat, a birthday gift from my twin sister. And when I say everything, please do let your imagination run wild. I’m pretty sure I was a walking charred skeleton at one point.
But the same curse that keeps my magic looped within me, the curse that disables me from using any proper magic, the same curse that gave life to the shadows within me — well, it also makes me near-immortal.
As soon as the first burn spread, my magic countered it, healing me as quickly as I became destroyed.
I burst through the firewall, magic pouring into Djinn. Azure energy piled on the blade, engorging its size until the whole sword was twice my height.
I swung and the energy blade flew from Djinn, hurled straight towards the f
laming man. At the same time, Amaymon sent a massive pillar of earth at Luke, and our two spells collided.
It took a second for the dust to clear. Luke was half human, half fire. Blood was everywhere, like a grotesque burst piñata.
Amaymon and I stood side by side, Djinn on my shoulder, his claws extended. It was our superhero pose, and yes, we knew it. So sue me.
“Give it up, Luke,” I said. “You’re done.”
“Nah,” Amaymon said. “He’s still got some fight in ‘im. Get up, Fire Boy. Come get your ass kicked a third time.”
Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out a grey silk pouch. “You’re… forgetting… the real mission,” he panted, opening the pouch and upturning it.
Dark grey ash poured out of it. It got caught in the breeze, spun around and landed on the truck. Luke snapped his fingers, igniting a small spark. The ash burst alight, becoming large sigils that burned themselves on the frame of the busted up truck.
With a burst of fire, Luke flew to the top of the truck and placed both hands on it. His fire magic canvased the entire vehicle and a second later it was flying through the air, jets of flame firing out from where the tires once were. The acrid smell of melted rubber and metal was nauseating, but I was too stunned watching the truck fly away like the Magic School Bus.
“That’s new,” I muttered.
Something clattered on the ground. One of the black bones had slipped its confines.
“Are you guys okay?”
Abi and Akasha came running towards us. One look at me and both turned bright red, with Akasha grinning.
“What?” I said.
“Dude,” Amaymon said, pointing at my lower half. “Your dick’s out.”
I looked down, remembered that Luke had burned all of my clothes and tried my best to cover myself with my coat. At this point I’d like to say that this was the first time this had happened, but no — every time I faced that fire-spewing dickhead I’d loose an outfit, and I did not have the money to burn (pun intended) on clothes.
Hell, I did not have money to burn, period.
“Relax, dude,” Amaymon said. “It ain’t nothin’ we ain’t seen before. Hell, I’ve seen all you guys naked.”
“Thanks for your input, Amaymon.”
He shrugged.
“Wait,” Abi protested. “When did you see me naked?”
He blinked. “Aw, shit.”
“Amaymon!”
“Hey, if you don’t want me spying, don’t make me follow you to see who you’re hooking up with,” he retorted.
Abi flashed him a look that promised long, tortuous murder. “You were spying on me?”
“I had to see the new guy.”
“I knew it,” she said. “He kept mentioning seeing a cat. I’m gonna kill you, Amaymon. I am seriously gonna kill you. I mean, do you literally have no decency?”
He cocked his head at her. “I’m a demon,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Yes, but…” She sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. “Stop spying on me.”
Her face was now blood red when she looked at me. I tried to reassure her with a look that I’m sure conveyed anything but that.
Abi was part succubus. There was no getting around that. The girl needed to get laid on a regular basis. Sure, she didn’t actually leave her lovers on the verge of a coma, but the hunger for life force was still there — I’m just thankful it only manifested itself as periodical sexual desire.
Okay, maybe thankful isn’t the right word.
Besides, Abi isn’t what you’d picture when you think succubus. Sure, she’s grown into a very sexy young woman, and that is not to say I am not attracted to her, but my life is already way too complicated.
Besides, I already have a functioning relationship with someone more up to my speed. Akasha was grinning throughout the entire exchange.
“Fine,” Amaymon said, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. “Who needs you anyway? At least, Erik’s chick knows what the hell she’s doing.”
“Hey,” yelled Abi.
“Hey,” I yelled.
“I have a name,” Akasha retorted, half-grinning. “And thank you, I suppose.”
“You were spying on us too?” I snapped.
“Erik,” Amaymon said, “if you don’t want me to know you’re getting laid, then don’t have loud obnoxious sex on the couch in the middle of our living room.”
I blinked, twice.
Right.
Guess he had a point there.
Several points actually.
Maybe I should reupholster that couch.
Out of sheer self-preservation, I turned around, forcefully exiting the conversation, and picked up the black bone. It wasn’t smooth, but slightly textured, almost as if sinew was still attached to it.
Abi loomed over my shoulder, the funny banter over.
“What is that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied, staring at the bone. “But something tells me I need to find out. And soon.”
Chapter 3
The dream was a recurring one. I have no idea when it started, maybe a few months ago. It started with images at first, a dark shadow here, an eerie sensation there.
But it always began in the same way.
I was back in that church. How do I know it was a church? Well, the giant crucifix was a clue. That, and the general feeling of forced respect, even if you don’t believe in all of that. Personally, I don’t. Yeah, I’ve seen angels — and may or may not have punched one in the face — and I keep a demon as a house cat, but I can explain all that with science.
Weird, twisted, brain-melting science.
But the idea of an all-powerful, one true god never really sat well with me. I lost my mom during childbirth, my dad tried to kill both me and my sister, I was homeless for a few years, and my job consists of cleansing this world of horrors.
God can go fuck himself for all I care.
Back to the dream.
I was back in the church and something was chasing me. I went down the same corridor that I always go down, feeling the walls closing in. Every window was a pair of eyes, spying my every move.
Erik Ashendale.
Its voice reverberated from within the depths of my soul. They say fear is just in your imagination, that you can train fear out of you. I have. I deal with monsters on a daily basis — clearly, I’m insane enough to be misconstrued as courageous.
But this voice was something else. This was a primal fear, the one fear that drove us to strive forwards, growing and learning and curing, all in order to push back the one pressing feeling that dominates our every move.
Death.
It emerged from within my chest and forced me onto my knees as it grew large and black, forming a hooded figure that towered over me. A massive scythe glinted under moonlight that suddenly pierced the church walls. A single red eye gleamed from beneath, identifying my nightly tormentor.
Samael. The angel of death.
I woke up in a sweat, and pressed a clammy hand on my aching chest. Akasha turned beside me, her naked body barely covered by the sheets.
She opened an eye. “Erik? Are you okay?”
I forced myself to take deep breaths. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m okay.”
She didn’t buy it. “The nightmare again?” she asked, propping herself up on one elbow.
“Yeah.” I got out of bed. “I’m gonna go downstairs and make some tea.”
Even through the gloom, Akasha piercing gaze made me pause.
“It’s probably nothing,” I told her. “My therapist says it’s a symptom of PTSD.”
She lay back down. “If you say so,” she said.
I knew that tone. She was onto my bullshit. When regular people dream, it’s likely just that — your brain tries to digest the events of the day and throws in a Tim Burton-esque movie in the mix.
When magic-users dream, you’d better take notes.
But it was late, and I was tired. The in
juries and exhaustion from my fight with Luke made it impossible to have proper sex with her and my mind was a thousand miles away, fixated on those black bone skeletons I saw inside the Ryleh Corp truck.
So I made my way down to the kitchen and turned on the kettle.
“Erik?” came Abi’s voice.
I poked my head out and saw her sitting up on one of the couches, the glow of her laptop illuminating her face. In my tired haze, I didn’t even notice her.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.
I grunted a yes. “What are you still doing up?” I asked.
“Research,” she said.
“Bone research.” Amaymon appeared from some dark corner. He held the black bone in his hand, flipping it in the air and catching it. “Can’t figure out what this thing is. Are you sure it ain’t some animal you idiots haven’t documented yet?”
By ‘you idiots’ my demonic familiar meant the human race. Because he’s classy like that.
“I told you,” Abi said. “No animal has a black skeleton. Bones are white.”
He chuckled. “That’s racist.”
“Amaymon,” I said. “It’s late and I can’t sleep. Please don’t start.”
He cocked his head. “The nightmare?”
“The nightmare,” I confirmed.
“And the banging didn’t help?”
“Shut up.”
“Just askin’.”
“Erik, you said you knew what this was,” Abi said, mercifully interrupting the inane conversation.
“I said I thought I knew what it was,” I said. “Like it’s just on the tip of my tongue but I can’t quite articulate it.”
“Look,” she began, twisting her body to face me. “I know your condition makes it hard to pry out repressed memories. Add to that a supernatural element and your brain starts trying to forget out of sheer survival.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Your point?”
“Stop surviving and start remembering,” Amaymon said.
Abi threw him a dirty look but shrugged in my direction.
I pressed a hand on my forehead, swiping my overgrown hair backwards. “Amaymon doesn’t know what it is,” I said, “but I might. Which means it’s an island thing.”