by J. E. Cammon
Nick pondered on the ramifications. David was unusually confident for a very small man. It didn’t seem to be bluster; there was something powerful in his stare and a certain strength to his gait. The summoned was privy to information Nick wanted, maybe even needed. The information may only reside within the creature, thus killing it would be very bad. Nick said as much.
“It was lottery numbers, wasn’t it?” David said, accusingly.
Nick’s mouth dropped open. Lottery numbers? “What? No, that’s horribly crass.”
David made a face, leaning away towards his window. “Whatever,” he said, dropping the issue.
“On the other hand it isn’t the only source…certainly nowhere near the most abstract. Maybe it wouldn’t be missed.” Nick shrugged. “Only as a last resort,” he added quickly.
David made a vague gesture with his hand. “Scout’s honor,” he said flippantly.
Nick narrowed his eyes. Finally, the fateful stop approached, and he signaled with the tiny wire running above the windows of the bus. They were the only ones to get off. Nick’s hands were sweating. Part of him was worried that the summoned, confused and aggravated, was wreaking havoc across the city, and that it was, ultimately, his transgressions that caused it. The key, he theorized, was to learn from the mistakes he made. It seemed to him it would work if he used something better documented, with more sources.
They made their way towards the building. High above them, the moon was shining down on tiny pools of water and broken glass. The holes in the street and sidewalk were obscured, however, and even if one could spy the rim, it was as if they held depths as deep as forever. Nearing the door, Nick realized he was alone. He turned around and could see David and the vampire standing a ways off, talking.
“Cold feet?” he chided them with mirth he did not feel. David shushed him. He walked back to them, looking around. “What’s the problem?” he asked, more quietly.
“It’s inside,” David said matter-of-factly. “Can you do whatever you need to do from out here?”
“What? It is?” Nick was more than a little surprised. “Uh, no. I mean, it would be best if I were as close to where I performed the ritual as possible.”
“Outside the building isn’t close enough?” David retorted.
Nick made a noise and adjusted his knapsack, feeling the books and jars and vials inside.
“What?” David asked, fidgeting. The vampire might have made a subtle gesture. In any event, David said to him, “I’ll be there in a second.” Nick turned and watched Jarvis stalk off ominously. “Hey,” David said, and Nick’s head turned back around. “What’s the problem, Rincewind?”
Nick looked at the smaller man. Suddenly he seemed larger, more imposing.
“I…” he began, not wanting to say it. “I’m just not completely sure I know what I’m doing. I don’t want to do the wrong thing, again.”
“You what?” David said, incredulously.
“Everything needs to be performed in exact reverse. That would be the best way. I don’t know enough to be able to force things.” He spoke quickly; maybe in a blur it would be less true. Studying the things he did, it became painfully obvious how powerful words could be, especially true ones.
David hung his head and ran a hand through his hair. “This is ridiculous,” he said.
Just then there was a huge commotion inside the warehouse, the sounds of shattering glass and twisting metal.
David looked up, turning his head slightly like someone that was listening. “Okay, the new plan is to let us handle it. You stay out here. Don’t sit on any nails or stick your fingers in any electrical sockets.” He took off his backpack and pushed it into Nick’s hands. “Don’t get this wet or dirty.” He stepped around Nick, towards the warehouse. Halfway there, he burst into a sprint and vanished into the shadows.
From outside, the noises were horrible. Nick couldn’t know what was going on, and he had his instructions, but he found himself inching forward, in search of the entrance he used before. Curiosity, even of the terrible, became like gravity.
When he came within sight of the door hanging off its hinges, he froze for a moment; inside he could see only darkness. He took a tentative step forward. At the threshold, the noise of a tremendous roar overwhelmed him and he sagged against the doorway. Somewhere inside, one of the struts attached to the ceiling buckled and gave way, tearing a hole open above, letting in the moonlight. The resulting stage was only a few feet across in both directions, and it was red and slick. Nick’s stomach lurched and squeezed his dinner into his esophagus. His chest felt hot and congested.
An animal was shoved into the light, a huge furry horror, all claws and teeth and terror. As it righted itself, its hair picked up the blood on the floor and the ends of it glowed red like burning spines. Onto the stage then came the summoned, ten feet tall, powerfully built—wise, but angry. There were cuts and bruises all over its body. It brought its hands together above its head as if to strike the other monster, and then it stiffened suddenly.
As the summoned turned sideways in a pained spasm, Nick could see that the vampire was clinging to its back, one arm snaked around a shoulder and another pulling back on one of the horns. Jarvis’ head was buried in the creature’s neck. Several large gashes formed on the magnificent torso as the furry monster lashed out with a flurry of snarling rage, opening the creature’s stomach and then the chest.
The blood didn’t just flow; it gushed. The vampire’s yanking took its toll, too, one of the summoned’s horns was dislodged completely. The creature stumbled backwards, out of the light, off of the stage. Blood continued to spurt into the scene, but aside from the thing’s dying screams and the noise of it falling, there was nothing but Nick and the…lycanthrope.
Things came back to him slowly. First, he was on his knees somehow. He dropped everything he was holding, and he voided his bladder. The hulking beast, with its black eyes and blood red maw, shrank and became less ferocious and hairy and crazed. It turned into David. The last trait to go was the look in his eyes; they were the same black pools of killing night until the transformation was completed. The blood remained—all over David’s face and chest and legs. He was wearing the blood.
Nick ran, or he tried to. He was like a newborn foal, stumbling and falling. David shouted his name, and Nick regained his footing and broke into a maddening sprint. All he could see were those eyes boring into his soul. He stopped just long enough to throw up. Then he passed out, or maybe he fell…or maybe the monster caught him. He wasn’t sure. In any case, there was nothing heroic or beautiful or romantic about any of it.
Chapter Four
Nick woke up, but not from a dream. He couldn’t be sure of what time it was except that it was still dark. Someone was pawing at him gently.
“Nick?”
He was happy the voice was familiar to him…then he recoiled in realization. He remembered what he was running from; he remembered that while falling unconscious he didn’t expected to awake again. His face hurt terribly. He was sore all over in fact, though he didn’t seem to be any worse off than bruised. David, the lycanthrope, was crouched over him, amazingly casual for his being stark naked.
“Stay away from me,” he heard himself say, as he tried to get up and away at the same time. By the time he rolled over onto his chest and pushed himself into a standing position, David was in front of him again.
“You expect me to walk home naked?” he raised a curious eyebrow.
At this new angle, Nick could see the wild smears of blood covering most of David’s small frame, enmeshed with his hairy chest and legs and arms. His eyes were normal now, but Nick could remember how they were. It created a strange overlapping effect between what David looked like and what Nick knew him to be. There was blood all over his mouth, too.
David gestured at the bag Nick strapped to his back. He
slowly took it off and handed it to the shorter man, who snatched it away and slung it over a shoulder. He looked down. “No gym classes in grad school, I guess.”
Nick’s mouth dropped open. “You think I’m bothered by your nakedness?” He yelled louder than he intended, “You’re a…you’re a…”
“Lycanthrope.”
“Monster.” He took a step backward. “What is wrong with you? You’re just so…you’re comfortable! Look at you, you’re covered in blood!”
David looked down as if to confirm the words. “Well, you sort of get born into these situations. It’s a fairly common place for me.”
“Common.” Nick’s voice cracked.
“You seem to be acting a bit overdramatically, given the circumstances of our meeting.”
“I just…” Nick paused. Everything was so real, so suddenly real. He took a deep breath, keeping an eye on David. “I may have reacted better if you’d mentioned it a little earlier. You just sort of were…there.”
David held a hand up, looking tired all of a sudden. “It’s cool, man, really,” he said, adjusting the backpack. “We save your ass, you run off with my stuff. Perfectly natural. Well,” he said, looking around as if pondering, “sorry to disappoint, but this isn’t the part where I give you an ultimatum, threaten you or anything. Still, it would be really good of you, fair even, to keep this evening and my address out of mouth and out of mind. I have a day job, I don’t really have time to be making sure the magic police aren’t after me, you know? So, I won’t see you around. Take care of yourself.” With that, he walked out of the conversation.
Nick calmed down as the distance between them increased, and with that came the understanding that maybe he was a little insensitive and ungrateful. He thought about apologizing, but that came after minutes, and David was gone after only moments. Nick found himself standing around for another half hour as if someone would show up and give him advice or tell him what to do. No one came. He went home.
Nick felt like something was missing, but he decided for once not to investigate his feelings and simply go to bed.
He woke up the next day to his alarm and his bed and his life. At no point did he ever think the previous night was a dream. He found David’s number near the phone in the kitchen. He felt the need to rewind, to understand how he got wherever he was. Looking around his single bedroom apartment and the cramped storage space for what he knew to be his entire life, he understood completely how he came to want something else—something better, bigger. He did what he always did and left in the direction of class.
* * * *
There were thousands of people crowded together trying to cut out their own place, the chunk that they felt entitled to and wouldn’t have to fight for. It was owed to them. There was some conclusion Nick was nearing when his advisor found him pondering a broken fountain in one of the courtyards. The water began to run out the cracked bottom, but instead of fixing it the university decided it was better to simply turn off the faucet.
“They still haven’t fixed this thing,” Dr. Gray said. Nick liked the man from the start for how he engaged people on a significant level without being invasive. “Got a minute?”
Nick suddenly realized he had no intention of going to class that day; as it turned out, there were hours to spare.
Dr. Gray’s office was somewhat small, but he didn’t have a lot of furniture and he made good use of the space in such a way that the place looked more comfortable than it probably was. The desk was always mostly empty, though Nick knew the drawers were filled in an organized sort of way. He personally saw the man pull at least eight different things out of one drawer.
Dr. Gray’s body language told Nick to shut the door after him, but strangely he wasn’t concerned about being in trouble or found out.
Dr. Gray gestured for him to sit. “I have some news. I should probably point out, you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.” He leaned forward. “Are you all right?”
Nick frowned, unsure. He told this man things he didn’t tell his guardians. He sort of saw him in that capacity, but he wasn’t sure if the position brought confidentiality along with it.
“I guess. I mean…” He paused. “No, not really. I’m not sure I want to really talk. Unless…” He trailed off, leaving the choice up to the other man.
His mentor nodded slowly. “I see. Well, you put me in an awkward position. You flatter me, too. First, I guess I’ll thank you for that,” he said, looking Nick in the eye.
Nick imagined him weighing what the worst he thought Nick might be capable of against how well he read people in the past.
“Sure, I’m game.” Dr. Gray gestured for him to speak, leaning back in his chair. He looked confident. Nick was confident he didn’t look the same.
“I did something. I broke some rules…a lot of them, actually…but that’s not important.” He put his hand up as his advisor opened his mouth to correct him. “I don’t mean that it isn’t important. I mean that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about…you know, confidentially.” He thought for a moment. “I got some help to fix the situation.” He made a face at his word choice. “Non-sanctioned help, but no one died. I mean, no one human.” Nick held his hands up defensively. He noticed Dr. Gray looked decidedly less confident, though at the best, he didn’t look mad. Maybe he was waiting for his former-mentee to finish. Nick thought about a variety of terrible punishments that could be leveled on him, both fantastical and real. “I know that we do a lot, historically and anthropologically, to learn about the occult. How much of it is based on reality? Objective reality, I mean.”
He jumped from the confession to what he really wanted to know. He wasn’t sure he was even done confessing, but everything he wanted to know poured out of him like curiosity became a thing that could no longer be contained. He’d probably be expelled for violating the desperately fine line between protection and possession, but he suddenly came to find that he didn’t care as much about that. There was no advocate for deeds done, only the hands that did them.
Dr. Gray stared at him for another moment, a long moment, before clearing his throat. “I’ve been cautioned that a body was discovered on the east side of the city.” He stopped as if he intended to go further.
Nick knew he crossed a line, one he could only see after crossing it.
“I think you need to speak with the Dean Janis,” Dr. Gray said, standing up slowly. He stepped past Nick who heard the office door open behind him.
Nick stood, sadly, and stepped through the threshold. He was only partly sure that Dr. Gray would keep his secret—the brief vague telling of it—but it seemed that Nick would be sharing all the wild vagaries in full detail very soon anyway. Was that still a betrayal? The door closed in his face.
Alone in the hallway, Nick began thinking of everything. No one was making him do anything, and yet he felt a growing desire to confess. His strongest desire, of course, came from the information that he didn’t possess a week before. It was so murky then, but now it was all very obvious. It seemed like such a good idea; now things were being consumed all around him, falling apart with disturbing speed.
The walk to the Dean’s office was short, though Nick made it as long as possible. He felt the need to have his explanations in a rehearsed state. He didn’t feel he wanted to avoid punishment. He supposed he wanted someone to understand, which in retrospect turned out to be highly ironic. Nick thought about David’s words—or rather, the words David didn’t say, everything that was spoken by his manner and his look and his tone. Things were as they were; choice had no place in the origin of things, only in their end.
He knocked on the heavy wooden door. The swirling brown patterns evidenced that the wood was taken from a very old tree. The door was solid and thick, but once the knob was turned, it opened easily. The room beyond was long and wide and expensively adorned. Everything sported a
refined economy that bespoke of near endless resources and complimentary taste. It was the kind of room grand wagers were made in, where movements were initiated and their ends decided, where history was written to the liking of victors.
Nick was very glad to see that someone else was already there with Dean Janis; it was a student, a woman. He could only see her from the back, but she was shapely enough to distract him temporarily from his execution. The Dean, a tall, straight-backed man with dull green eyes and thin gray hair, glanced over and smiled slightly.
“Nicholas,” he said, his voice inviting and rich. “I thought you might be arriving here soon.” Then he addressed the woman, “Nicholas is one of our high achievers. His passion for inquiry is unmatched. Isn’t that right, Nicholas?”
Nick wasn’t sure if that was true, but he certainly didn’t want to argue. He nodded anxiously, stepping forward. Becoming aware of the woman’s front was a slight benefit. She was the inciting moment in a narrative, a green-eyed Amazon with red hair and full proportions.
“This is a new transfer into the program, Scarlet,” Nick heard the Dean say. He was probably walking around his desk sipping brandy, or something equally imposing, but Nick wasn’t looking at him. “I was telling her of some of the exploits of a handful of our graduates, how tightly knit we are here, like a family. I thought maybe you could show Scarlet around the campus, help her familiarize herself with things.”
It felt to Nick like he never stopped nodding. He half expected the woman to giggle or coyly look away at some point, but she met his gaze like someone familiar with challenge. Nor could he look away from her embodied aggression.
“Nick,” the Dean said, in such a way that Nick was instantly looking at him. “I trust I have your assent.”
“Yes, Dean Janis, of course.” He tried to sound like a busy man who was imposed upon but whose sense of duty allowed him to see the wisdom of the Dean’s decision.
“Good,” the older man said, and Nick discovered he walked around the desk and was standing very close to him. “I know you came by to talk about very important matters, but I think it can wait. Go.”