by Ryan Attard
He undid one of the strings decorating the chopstick container and tied the two halves of the chopstick. “However something bound,” he said, raising the now-deformed chopstick, “will never be as whole as the original. As such it will be crippled, even if repaired.”
I looked at my shoulder and pulled back my collar, enough to expose the place where the goat man had shot me. The wound had healed but a scar remained. Usually wounds healed perfectly, thanks to my magic — not this one.
This one had left a mark.
“You got shot,” Sun Tzu said.
“Won’t be the last time,” I replied casually.
Sun Tzu’s hand shot towards mine and squeezed painfully.
“Listen to me,” he said, in a tone that closely resembled panic. “You cannot be shot with this. This weapon was designed to hurt wizards. You especially, given the nature of your family curse.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
Sun Tzu released his death grip on my hand. “I cannot say.”
“Who did you sell this to?” I pressed.
“I cannot say.”
“Erik,” Amaymon muttered.
“Yeah, I know,” I replied.
I glanced backwards and out of my peripheral vision, saw someone standing behind me. “Whoever you are, take a number and sit down.”
I looked at Sun Tzu again, whose face was now contorted with concern. Something was making him uncomfortable — him, the man who was the very definition of a rock, who was like a father to me; the man who helped me set up shop in Eureka.
Something was big enough to faze even him, and if I found it, I’d tear it to pieces. No one, and I mean fucking no one, messed with my family.
“Who’s got you, Sun Tzu?” I asked. “You mentioned forces beyond yourself — who are they?”
Amaymon nudged me again. “Erik…”
I bolted upright, sending my seat flying to the side, and turned, getting right into the face of the guy behind me.
I immediately pegged him as a Paladin: holy knights, lackeys and hit men of the church. They were common around Redwood, although some of them often migrated up here for a case or two.
I was inches away from his grim face.
“Try something,” I snarled. “Go on. See where it gets you.”
Another two dozen Paladins stood up, sweeping their hoods and robes aside to reveal the handles of their cruciform swords.
Amaymon stood up from behind me, snarling like a feral beast.
“Erik Ashendale!”
Aura exploded from behind me, smothering the entire shop. Sun Tzu stood up and slammed the table so hard it exploded into a million pieces.
At the same time, the four Chinese men at the back sprang to their feet, emitting a similar aura to Sun Tzu’s, as if they were all part of the same entity. Weapons materialized in their hands: Tiger brandished a Chinese broadsword with a thick, curved blade; Dragon held a jian, an elegant double-edged straight sword; Phoenix wielded a long spear with a tip on each end and crimson tassels dangling from under each spearhead; Turtle held a thick staff that looked like it would take some serious muscle to swing around.
I looked behind me and saw Sun Tzu glaring at me.
“There will be no violence in this shop,” he said in a low, calm, and deadly voice. There was no questioning that power — he wasn’t ordering, but simply stating a fact.
I looked at him, then the foursome at the back, then the Paladin.
“Amaymon,” I called. “We’re leaving.”
The demon tutted, disappointed we weren’t going to throw down with a whole shop full of Paladins, and whatever the hell Sun Tzu and his boys were.
When we reached the front door, I stopped, turned around, and gave Sun Tzu a final nod, before addressing everyone else.
“I don’t know what your beef with me is,” I said, looking the first Paladin dead in the eye, “and I don’t care. I’m gonna go outside and cross the street. Anyone who’s got the balls for it, you know where to find me.”
Chapter 7
I walked out of Sun Tzu’s shop, turned a corner, and sighed.
“The hell was that all about?” I muttered.
“It was probably about the bounty.”
The voice startled me and I jumped back. Popping his head out of a window behind us, Turtle beamed at me.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” I said. “What bounty?”
Turtle’s smile broadened as if telling the punchline to a joke. “You have a bounty on your head. That is why every person in there wanted to kill you.”
“Kill me? For what?” I scratched my head. “I didn’t do anything. Why do I have a bounty on me?”
Turtle shrugged. For someone who was set on hitting me with a very large stick mere seconds ago, this guy was way too jolly.
“Okay, let’s try this from a different angle,” I said, turning towards Amaymon. “Bounties are set by someone, right?”
The demon shrugged.
“I guess,” he said. “That’s some human shit right there.”
“Thank you for your input,” I retorted sarcastically. “Helpful as always.”
“Happy to help.”
“Who set the bounty?” I asked, turning back to Turtle.
He shook his bald head. “That, I truly cannot say. Ah, but that reminds me: Sun Tzu asked me to give you a gift.”
“What gift?”
“The one you will need the most.”
“Dude, I’m getting real tired of this fortune cookie crap,” I said. “And I’m sorry if that’s racist.”
“What is?” Turtle grinned. “I love fortune cookies. Tasty and funny.” He reached behind the window and offered me a chopstick.
“What the heck is this?” I said, waving it around.
“The gift you require most,” he said.
“Is it a magic chopstick?”
“No.”
“Does it have anything special about it?”
Turtle pondered on that for a while, forever killing any hope that he had actually given me a Harry Potter-style magic wand.
“It’s made out of a peach tree,” he finally said. “Quite unique indeed.”
I frowned at the chopstick. “A peach tree? Really? That’s all I get?”
“It’s what you require the most,” he said. “Now I must go. I do hope you survive.”
“Survive what?” I yelled as he shut the window and left me there raving with a damn chopstick.
I turned to Amaymon, fuming. He shrugged again.
“Whatever that dude is smoking, I want in,” he said.
I sighed and pocketed the chopstick. Zen, Erik, I thought. Keep your damn zen.
“Whatever,” I said. “Let’s get outta here.”
I was eager to get back to the office and talk to Arnold the ghost boy. The questions about that guy kept increasing: for one thing he did not have an anchor, a fixed point where his ghostly essence was tethered to. All ghosts had that — unless they were wraiths or other undead monsters.
And as far as I could tell, the kid had yet to display an appetite for negative emotions and human flesh.
More importantly, I wanted to regroup with Abi and form some sort of strategy. I needed to get my head straight.
“Yeah, guess no one had the balls to come out,” Amaymon yelled towards the shop, as we walked past it.
He abruptly stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air. “Huh. Guess I was wrong.”
I turned. “What are you-”
The first one crashed into me, sending me tumbling to the other side of the road.
Amaymon swiped at it, but the creature hopped back and lashed out.
It wore a giant flappy coat that hid its entire figure, showing only a grotesque human head. Its skin was dark purple, with electric blue eyes, feral yet lifeless. From beneath one of its sleeves, it extended a thin arm with oversized serrated claws and spikes all over the forearm like bristles.
Amaymon lazily caught the arm and
kicked the creature away, only to be kicked in the face by the other.
The second creature was more slender, with long black hair and a mouth that was torn from ear to ear. This one looked more feminine and even its weapons — a pair of long, curved blades, two on each wrist, jutting from under its sleeves — were more elegant compared to the first one.
She joined her companion and I stood up, unsheathing Djinn.
“Which one do you want?” I rasped.
Amaymon cocked his head. “I’ll take the chick,” he said. “Ain’t nobody kicking me in the face.”
I looked at the taller monster. He flicked his serrated arms out of the tunic’s sleeves, shredding the fabric.
“Why am I always stuck with the ugly ones?” I muttered.
I think the monster guy understood me, judging from the way he shot forwards.
I raised my sword to intercept a strike, only to have him leap over me and bounce towards my back, arms scything the air. I ducked, spun on my knees and slashed at his stomach. The monster leapt again and lifted his shin. My blade got stuck on what I saw were similar spiky protrusions on his legs, trapping Djinn in between them.
The monster thrust his leg down, sending me on the ground in the process, and swung his arm down. I saw the sharp serrations on his arm pass the bridge of my nose as if in slow motion, and yelped as I threw myself backwards. As I moved I let out a blast of magic from Djinn, causing the monster to tumble.
I felt the ground shudder as Amaymon engaged the other monster, only to have her deftly leap over the boulders and rocks jutting from the ground. She landed on Amaymon’s head and the demon was sent tumbling to the ground. With supernatural grace, she spiraled in the air like a gymnast and swung her weapons at me.
I raised my sword and blocked as two curved blades crashed down on Djinn. I saw her raise her other arm — and the two blades that jutted from under there.
Amaymon was suddenly behind her, and with one movement he tore her entire arm off. The male monster sprung into action and swung his arm at Amaymon, biting deep into his neck. Amaymon punched, blowing a hole inside the monster’s stomach, and stomped the ground. Gravel and concrete rose like a wave, and fell directly on the monster, crushing it.
The female monster used me as leverage, vaulting over me, but I’d seen that trick before.
Gun in hand, I tucked it under my armpit and fired behind me. The monster was sent reeling backwards and Amaymon came in with a flying kick that tore her head clean off.
“Well, that was easy,” he remarked.
The rubble exploded and the male monster shot at him, swinging both arms like a massive pair of scissors at the demon’s neck.
“Watch out!”
As I yelled, I realized I was doing something very uncharacteristic. I never had to worry about Amaymon’s safety — nothing could kill that guy, except maybe another demon as powerful as he was.
But then again, until a few hours ago, I thought I was untouchable. I had magic that could heal any wound and more raw power than I knew about — I was a powerhouse.
That is, until a goat-man shot me with his magic bullet and made me feel like a lamb ready for slaughter. That sort of ordeal tended to change a few perspectives, and I was being extra careful.
As I saw the monster scything towards Amaymon, my protective instincts kicked in. I shouldered the monster, grabbed one arm and spun in a reverse shoulder throw. The monster was sent flying in the opposite direction, but not before accidentally slicing me open with one of his serrated forearms.
Blood gushed from my front and I instinctively bent over.
Amaymon thrust both hands forwards and the ground roiled, before exploding beneath where the monster landed.
I turned to face the other monster.
She stabbed me in the throat.
“Erik!” Amaymon yelled.
The female monster had regenerated both hands, each with a fresh pair of curved blades, and a pair of them were inside me — tearing through my neck.
The monster let out a hiss, something which I likened to a laugh. My strength left me, and I heard both Djinn and my gun clatter on the ground.
Amaymon snarled at her but before he could make the first move, the male monster crashed into him, and both of them were sent tumbling away. He roared and magic exploded from him.
This was getting dangerous.
While I allowed Amaymon a good chunk of his powers at all times, it was less than thirty percent of what he could actually do. Any more and the world would be in danger. Creatures that powerful couldn’t exist in our dimension, not without some major consequences.
He had started the fight with about ten percent power — now he was doubling that, and the whole city would feel the consequences.
I had to end this before my own ally caused more damage than we could fix.
I looked at the female monster who still had her claws in me, literally.
Wrong move, bitch. This wizard wasn’t so easy to kill.
Instead of pulling her arms away, I pulled her even closer — close enough to punch in the face. I spun her in an arm lock and thrust my body weight. Whatever these monsters were, they still had human anatomy. Her arm snapped at joint and loosened. I tore it out, and then pulled the blades from my neck.
I thrust her own weapons into her face, stabbing her through an eye and her jaw. Healing magic filled my wounds, regenerating the damaged tissue.
“You can have that back,” I rasped.
I looked at Amaymon.
“Incoming,” I yelled as I scooped up Djinn from the ground and charged it with magic. The blast sent the female monster towards Amaymon, who was more than happy to scream in rage and ecstasy.
He began mercilessly pummeling the two stunned monsters, showering them with punches and bounders. Finally, he grabbed them both by the head and slammed them to the ground. Rock spikes jutted out from the ground beneath them, tearing holes in their bodies as they were sent flying.
I scooped up my gun, holstered it, and joined the demon.
“This ain’t over yet,” he said.
“I know.”
The two monsters swayed back to life, like zombies, with two gaping holes in their torsos, and I forced myself to look for clues, to find out how they kept regenerating.
It was an ancient rule of war, one that applied in most situations: once you know your enemy’s secrets, you can then systematically take them down.
Brute force wasn’t getting the job done, which meant I had to rely on my noggin. Rather than watch their most unwelcome comeback, I looked at the smaller details.
Details like the sheets of paper they had stuck inside their bodies, a taoist talisman, one embedded to the entrails of each monster.
Amaymon apparently noticed it too. “They’re Jiang-shi,” he said.
Monsters were aplenty in this world and not even the most intelligent wizards could remember all of them.
“Meaning?” I asked.
“Chinese vampires,” Amaymon simplified. “They are powered by those talismans. Take those out and we’re good.”
I smirked and lifted my sword. See what I mean? Once you know the way your opponent ticks, you can take them out easy.
The Jiang-shi duo shot forwards again, ready for round three, except this time they knew what to expect. Rather than go one on one with us, they concentrated on the weakest of the pair.
Me.
The male Jiang-shi leapt for Amaymon, who confronted him head on, while the female shot towards me. I dodged the blades and she spun, kicking at my wrist. My grip loosened and Djinn was sent flying. I went in close, behind the range of those blades, but she was expecting that.
She leapt and wrapped her legs around my neck. I know that sounds sexual but trust me, you do not want to be caught in the thigh-grip of an undead psycho-chick.
From my peripheral vision, I saw her strike to the side, towards Amaymon. Her blades dug into his shoulder, allowing her partner to escape his death grip and leap ove
r him — landing right behind me.
His spiky hands scythed towards me, poised to eviscerate me.
I kicked backwards, catching him in the nuts, before remembering that he was an undead monster. Still, that bought enough time for Amaymon to crash into him and take him down.
Meanwhile, the female drove me to the ground, and, still straddling my neck, raised her blades.
“I just remembered something else,” I heard Amaymon yell.
“Really?” I said, grabbing the female Jiang-shi’s blades to stop her from impaling my head. “Do tell. And please, take your time.”
“These fuckers don’t like stakes.”
“They’re vegetarian?” I croaked.
“Nah, man, stakes. As in wood.”
“Isn’t that every vampire?”
“Yeah, but they have a weakness only a certain type of wood. Peach trees.”
“Good to know,” I yelled.
The blades pierced the skin just above my eyebrow, and my demonic familiar was telling me all about my enemy’s botanical preferences.
Wait.
Did he just say peach tree?
“Son of a bitch.”
I doubled my efforts and managed to gain just enough leverage to free my other hand. I dug inside my pockets and felt around for the chopstick Turtle had given me just a few minutes ago.
I stabbed it into her thigh and the female Jiang-shi recoiled as if I had doused her in acid. I flipped us over, breaking the chopstick in the process.
“I found your kryptonite, you ugly-ass bitch.”
She snarled and thrust both her hands into me. Four blades pierced through my torso.
I raised my fist, with the broken chopstick tucked in between my fingers, like a push dagger.
“Wrong move,” I rasped through collapsed lungs, before punching her in the face and stabbing her with the chopstick.
The Jiang-shi screamed and writhed beneath me, before dissolving into a cloud of decaying, smelly gasses. I threw myself off her, my stomach threatening to roil under the immense stench, and saw a single rectangular sheet of paper lying there instead of the Jiang-shi.