by Ryan Attard
Oh, good. More monsters, more demons. More things trying to rip me to shreds. How nice of my sister to plan out the next decade of my life: keep slaying monsters until I hit the mother lode and as my reward I will have to—wait for it—fight more fucking monsters.
At least that takes care of the clientele flow.
“It’s been your plan all along, hasn’t it?” I said. “Increase the imbalance of the city’s natural magic flow by slaying anything trying to step into Lilith’s place, and create enough turbulence to attract the biggest, baddest and craziest. You’ve turned the entire city into a nexus of chaos and rampant magic just so you can attract a Sin. I don’t know whether to be impressed or disgusted.”
“It’s the ultimate trap. We are Warlocks after all,” my sister replied. Her voice had a hint of pride in it. I was about to retort with something offensive but managed to restrain myself. Only a few minutes ago I was contemplating going to the angels for help, but all the while my sister had pulled a Machiavelli on me and roped me into her big ‘Demonic Bell Jar’ plan. So, unless I could come up with something better, I had to roll with it.
But that didn’t mean I had to be happy about it. “Anything else you want, sis?” I asked, somewhat acidly.
“Yes,” crackled her voice. “One of the nests we hit tonight had a wall covered with photos from various crime scenes and a map of Eureka. They know where you live and, judging by the number of notes we found, they seem to have been studying your modus operandi.”
“Oh, great, a fan. Do they have anything concrete?” I asked, scanning the empty office and extending my magical powers.
I felt the crystals embedded in my office walls resonate with power, ready to push back any unwelcome invaders. At the same time, they allowed me to use my magic freely in my office, giving me complete home-field advantage.
“They have some obscure pictures of a guy in a long trench coat. In one of them, an outline of Abi can be seen. They know where you live. At least, your place is one of their guesses. We didn’t get them all, Erik. Two escaped and they may be heading toward you as we speak.”
“Where was the nest? Here in Eureka?” I asked.
“No. We found them on the border of Oregon. It’s quite a distance but well-fed vampires could cross it in half a day.”
I pondered that. My magical defenses would keep out relatively weak monsters such as vampires, but it was those weak creatures that were the most devious. My crystals won’t stop them if they decided to burst in with, say, an army tank. As for reinforcements, vampire nests tended to be like lion prides. They kept to their own hunting grounds and never ventured too far. If these guys seriously decided to come after me they would have to do it without being detected by others of their kind or any other monster lurking in my beloved hometown.
“I have already dispatched some patrols to the other locations marked. Some of them are household dwellings and I do not want any more bloodshed tonight,” my sister said. “Do you want me to send a couple of guys to your house?”
I let out a bark of laughter. “Nah, I’m fine. Keep your guys. Never liked them anyway.”
“Will you be okay?” My sister sounded tired.
“Gil, you just told me that a couple of vampires are going to cross the border over here to Monsterville, on the off chance that they might find me and show me how tough they are. That’s about as intimidating as you telling me that a group of girl scouts are going to show up at my door and whack me in the face with a frying pan. I think I’ll manage. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“When was the last time you slept?” I asked. “You sound even more tired than I am.”
“I’m busy, Erik,” she snapped back icily.
“Well, take a damn break before you break. Make Mephisto do something for a change,” I retorted.
“I don’t trust him, Erik. Unlike you and your familiar, my relationship with mine is strictly formal. In that regard, you have been set up with the familiar easiest to live with.”
I observed as said familiar waded into the kitchen and hopped onto the top shelf. Moving behind a cereal box, he nudged it forward and sent it tumbling down, its contents spilling all over the kitchen floor. Nonchalantly, Amaymon descended and began consuming the spilled cereal.
“Yes,” I replied, my tone heavy with sarcasm and disgust. “Clearly, I have the household friendly familiar. Goodnight, Gil. Get some sleep.” And I lowered the receiver back in its place.
I extended my hand and my short sword, Djinn, still sheathed and resting on the coffee table where I’d left it, levitated and moved gracefully toward my awaiting hand. With the same hand, I slightly flicked my fingers. The switch at the other end of the room clicked and the lights went out. I channeled magic into the crystals once more, engaging the supernatural security system. Each of the crystal glowed through the walls, flooding the room with dimmed white light. I caught Amaymon staring at me from the kitchen doorframe, the darkness causing a faint eye shine from his feline eyes.
“We’re sleeping with the heavy duty alarm on tonight. And clean up after yourself when you’re done,” I said, heading upstairs for some sleep.
Chapter 4
Life as a wizard involves many dangers. You could be ambushed by some hungry monster attracted to your juicy aura. You could poke your nose too hard into their territory and find yourself at the mercy of a pack of werewolves. True story. And it is guaranteed that your fellow countrymen, for whom you worked so hard, will shun you, giving you looks reserved only for hobos and drunken uncles.
And you will never, ever, get one single miserable goodnight’s sleep.
At first, I thought it was the guy down the block. He’s always up before the roosters, either hammering at something, or welding something, or whatever. I don’t speak mechanic. Or hoarder, which is more likely his case. Whatever he was up to, it involved a lot of noise. So, I spun in my bed, cursing the man in question with maladies only found in the Dark Ages, and heard a crash of glass breaking. It wasn’t the distant sound of an accident, like the ones usually followed by a string of hilariously foul language. This was close by.
In fact, it sounded like the sound came from right under my bedroom window.
I got up, now more alarmed, and after a quick thought I decided that pants took a priority over swords. Somewhere in between lying to us and plotting our murder, my father had found the time to teach me the basics of decency. Besides, I’m no Gregory Peck. No one wants to see a lanky, wiry wizard waving a glowing sword around with no pants on.
I strode downstairs, Djinn in hand, ready for any who dared cross the threshold to my office. The office area was undisturbed, still bathing in the glow of white light. I extended my senses and found the entire place to be devoid of intruders. A few seconds later, Abi appeared on the stairs with a gun in her hand. Amaymon was nowhere to be seen.
I heard the crash again, this time accompanied by voices, and walked closer to the window. Outside, a guy wearing a wife-beater vest and holding a wrench up high signaled to his friend across the car they were wrecking. The other wore a black sports jacket and stood very still with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Under the streetlight I couldn’t see what color the car was, but I knew it the moment that the wrench guy struck the front hood again.
My car. My relatively new, fresh-out-of-the-shop car.
The poor thing had suffered enough wear and tear from previous cases and my mechanic across town was kind enough to fix it at a quicker pace. I loved that car. For one thing, it replaced the secondhand piece of crap I’d owned before it. For another, I didn’t have to pay for it. Not directly anyways. It was a thinly-veiled bribe from Heaven.
And to my horror, Wrench beat it again, further denting the hood.
“Come on, lift it up. I wanna chuck the engine through the window,” the scowling one said with a thick southern accent.
“I keep trying, but the damn thing ain’t budgin’,” his companion replied.
&n
bsp; “Well try harder,” the other snapped back.
Wrench growled and stabbed the hood, driving the wrench through the stainless steel. He raised his other hand and claws grew from his fingertips. Stabbing it, he literally tore the hood apart.
“There ain’t no engine,” he cried.
The other—Scowl—bared his teeth, exposing a set of shark-like fangs designed to rip flesh from bone.
“Vampires,” I spat from behind the window. I remained frozen on the spot, shaking with anger. It was one thing to come after me, but I hated these petty acts. If you’ve got beef with me, come face me directly. Don’t rip my car apart or tear down my office. As if I don’t have enough financial problems already.
I tightened my grip on Djinn and streaks of azure ran through the blade. I started making my way towards the door to give those vamps a taste of their own medicine, but was stopped by a pair of glowing eyes by the door.
“Erik,” Amaymon said calmly. “Think about this for a second.” The cat sat against the door.
“What’s there to think about?” I yelled. “They’re tearing my car apart. Now, I’m gonna do the same thing to them.” I grabbed the door handle but the door wouldn’t budge, as if it were walled shut.
Amaymon hissed. “Listen to me, Erik,” he said. “There are two hillbilly vamps out there whose idea of damage is taking a wrench to your car. And here you have an apprentice who failed her test earlier on, so to speak. How about giving her a make-up?”
“What are you talking about?” I said, still trying to get the door open. Unless I used magic and blasted the thing apart, the door wasn’t giving.
“There are two vampires out there,” he repeated. “Think about it. Where are you going to find such an opportunity again? They hunt in packs, Erik. She can’t handle a dozen. But with just two, you can take your time, sit back and watch her progress.”
I paused and let what he said sink in. Of course, he was right. I may have been biased, but my familiar was a demon, and a powerful one at that. He was the kind of demon about whom legends were spun and bards sung in Hell around the campfire. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a statue erected in his honor. Amaymon was a resident of Hell long before Hell became the place we know now. He existed before the Earth took its first rotation, long before man learned how to rub two sticks together and light a fire. He was the right-hand man of the only being powerful enough to conquer all of Hell and unite it as a kingdom. The Demon Emperor was the original Palpatine, and Amaymon was his Darth Vader.
“Fine,” I said.
Amaymon nodded and looked at Abi, who remained silent and observant throughout the exchange. Her very first lesson was to never, ever, interfere when the wizard and his cat were arguing.
I heard another crash and felt like crying. “Whatever it is you’re planning, could you hurry it up?”
The cat let out a mew.
“Abi, you’re up against vampires,” Amaymon said. “Gun?”
Abi pulled back the slide. “Check.”
“Ammo?”
Abi looked at her gun and her face cringed. Hey, at least she was correcting her mistakes on her own, right? She drew open a drawer, pulled out an ammunition box and flipped it open, revealing several rows of silver bullets.
“Silver hollow points,” she said as she packed a number of bullets tightly inside the magazine. Putting it in place, she chambered a round and extracted the magazine. She placed another bullet on top and inserted the magazine again.
“Magic?”
Abi closed her eyes and the room began buzzing with the faint crackling of static electricity. The pressure dropped and heat began emitting from the apprentice. Discreetly, I used my own magic to sense hers. She had grown at a bizarre rate over the last few months. When we had just met, she could barely create enough turbulence to stir my sleep. Now, unless I tapped into my own reservoir of power, she could cause some serious damage. The girl was strong. Problem was she knew it too.
“Good,” Amaymon said. He had trained with Abi for a couple of weeks, creating role-play scenarios for her. Apparently, she listened to the damn cat more than she did her actual teacher.
“Payment for the cat?” he said.
Abi pursed her lips as if she realized she’d walked into a trap. “Two hours of snuggling while watching TV, you pervert,” she said with a loud sigh.
And now I knew why she had discontinued asking Amaymon for help.
“Good,” my familiar replied delightedly. “You’re good to go.”
I stepped aside and the door opened by itself. Abi walked out silently, her eyes locked on her first target.
“You recognize that look, Erik?” Amaymon asked when we both leaned against the window to observe the vampires.
They were arguing now, the idiots.
I hoped she made them suffer for what they did to my precious car. The cat was perched on the windowsill, his tail curled around him. I stroked his head absentmindedly.
“Yeah,” I said grimly. I had worn a similar look for years. I tried pushing down the memories like I usually did when they surfaced. But I did remember that look—the look of someone with something to prove.
Chapter 5
The first vampire never knew what hit him. Three rounds hit Wrench—the first embedded itself squarely in his throat, causing his head to lop sideways as muscle and bone were ripped out. The second bullet veered off wildly, slicing into the vampire’s collarbone and only managing to tear a small chunk of flesh. The third one smashed into his nose and drilled further inwards, rendering his head into a gory mass.
Scowl turned around and caught sight of the moving figure, her red hair catching the light of the street lamp and momentarily glinting. He leapt to one side, avoiding a bullet meant for his chest.
Abi fired off more rounds, trailing glints of silver flashing behind the deceptively fast vampire. That was her first mistake. Wrench wasn’t out of the game yet. Through sheer luck he had somehow avoided getting hit in his brain or heart and was still staggering from side to side, as if he were a zombie in some cheap horror flick.
Abi was still fighting against Scowl, who darted around the apprentice. She stopped shooting and dropped her guard. The vampire was soon behind her, teeth bared. It wasn’t the cheesy Dracula scene where he hypnotically bites the victim in the neck. There was no lust or delicacy with this scenario.
He just wanted to rip her head off.
As he reared his head backwards and then slashed at Abi’s neck, a large sheet of metal appeared between the apprentice and her predator. The stop sign at the other end of the road had been telekinetically ripped from its place and thrown in front of the vampire, who was currently clutching at his broken teeth and howling in pain.
From behind the window, I let out a low whistle. Ripping a large weight off a cement base required a good amount of power, the sort that Abi rarely displayed. Being succubus-adjacent, her abilities leaned more toward the manipulation of weak-willed beings. She could alter your senses and make you experience the world upside down. But this was the first time I had seen her telekinetically rip out a freakin’ road sign from its place and use it as a shield.
My apprentice had just reached new levels of awesome.
As the vampire experienced the mother of all toothaches, Abi spun around, grasped the metal pole and forced the vampire to the ground. Pausing to catch her breath, she pulled back the slide of her gun and aimed at the vampire. Like a striking rattlesnake, his hand reached up and covered the barrel of her gun, upsetting her aim. The bullet tore through his hand, reducing it to a bloody stump. Hollow-point bullets weren’t designed for penetration. Their job was to lodge in the target and expand into a large chunk of metal inside the body. They were perfect for stopping power and ripping through the hardened, armored flesh of most supernatural beings.
She quickly readjusted her aim and would have managed to reduce Scowl into dust, if not for the second vampire, who crashed into her and threw her off his companion. She hit the gr
ound hard, her breath knocked out of her body, and struggled to get up. Both vampires were already on their feet, shakily taking their first steps. Wrench walked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, the left side of his face a raw lump of flesh and his left arm held close to his side. His torn collarbone wouldn’t allow him to move his arm as he pleased. Scowl, on the other hand, looked more pissed off than injured. His right hand was gone, leaving a stump halfway up his forearm. The bullet had torn into his left shoulder, but it was only a superficial wound. He let out a hiss, and it was clear that he had lost some teeth. Or in his case, fangs. His beak-shaped nose was broken, twisted comically to the left.
If this were a movie, the vampires would quickly regenerate and go back to being pasty-faced supermodels with too much sex drive. But this was reality. Blood begets blood—that was the vampire’s way of life. They couldn’t live without blood, nor could they heal or exhibit any of their supernatural powers.
Which was why their hunger for my apprentice doubled. Her blood was the alleviation to their pain and the regeneration of their limbs.
Abi stood up and held her weapon aloft. She only had a few shots left, not enough to stop both the vampires. She thought she could at least try to take down one, and aimed the gun at Scowl. She pulled the trigger and nothing happened. The gun let out that heartbreaking click of jammed metal, which meant the weapon was nothing more than an expensive paperweight.
Scowl gave the apprentice his trademark expression in acknowledgement of her second attempt on his life. Abi’s expression became one of horror as she realized that she was going to have to defend herself up-close and personal. Fighting in close quarters with a vampire was the worst possible scenario—they had claws, teeth, and heightened senses, allowing them to be man’s perfect predator. We have soft, juicy flesh, bone with the strength of twigs, and internal organs that are about as tough a barrier to a vampire as foil wrapping around a chocolate bar.