That gets Damon’s attention. His eyes harden with anger, and he finally levels his stony gaze at the thing in front of him. A tattooed hand comes up to rub a pale chin as the demon shakes his head dumbfounded.
“That’s what gets you? That? I’m basically offering you free reign to do as you please... well as I please, really. Plus access to unlimited wealth. But crying over your useless, nothing friends is what gets a reaction from you?”
“I told you I’m not interested,” Damon says through a clenched jaw. “I ain’t no saint, but you guys are on a whole other level.”
The man stands. The demon rises with him. The two are close in height, but Damon’s muscular build outweighs Darius’s lean frame by thirty pounds.
“I’m leaving now,” Damon says.
“No,” Darius sighs. “You’re not.”
The demon moves to the side allowing Viribus access to the man. Damon puts his hands up ready to fight his way out which causes the three in front of him to chuckle. When Damon drops his hands slightly, faltering at the trio’s reaction, Viribus lunges.
The former tight end starts to struggle. It’s been a while since Viribus has had anyone offer him an actual physical challenge, so rather than use his own power, he grapples with the man dragging him through the kitchen and out to the alleyway in back.
Damon yells for help the whole way, but as Darius rightly figured when he first set foot in this bar, you pay people enough and they become blind, deaf, and mute. Not a single patron or worker comes to Damon’s aide.
Viribus slams Damon against the brick wall still sporting scorch marks from the last time Darius blew off some steam. Damon’s breath audibly leaves him. He’s held there but his body is slack, weakened by the lack of oxygen. He coughs and gasps trying to suck air into his starved lungs.
Darius takes off his jacket and throws it to Julius. He rolls the cuffs of his sleeves up three times on each arm. The tattoos on his hands continue up his forearms and disappear under his shirt. Viribus lets go of Damon but holds his arm up keeping the man in place with his power.
“No!” Damon cries. “Don’t do this! Stop! No, no!”
Darius ignores the pleas and closes his eyes. He begins to recite in Latin:
Per vim, virtutem meam te esse maledicam.
By force, my power I curse to thee.
The demon brings his left hand up and says the spell two more times. The once pale hand turns as black as oil as the markings on it stretch and grow, encompassing the demon’s skin. The hand hovers in the air an inch away from Damon’s forehead. The blackness begins to creep up his arm, continuing up under the sleeve. Viribus flicks his arm, forcing Damon to his knees.
Darius sucks in an airy breath before continuing to speak.
“Corporalis motus animi.” Physical movement of the mind. His voice sounds the same in pitch, but it echos as if there are one hundred of him speaking at the same time.
His hand extends, and just before it touches Damon, the demon opens his eyes. They are both bright red and as black as his hand at the same time.
“Don’t —”
He reaches for Damon quickly and lays his hand on the man’s head. The heel of his palm touching the forehead, the fingers stretching across the scalp.
Damon lets out an animalistic shriek of pain. The entirety of the blood vessels in his body slowly begins to turn black. From his head slinking down his neck and across his torso, to his arms down through his pelvis to his legs and toes. Each inch that the inky invader spreads evokes a roar of protest and torment.
With each howl of pain the man lets out, the demon holding onto him feels his own strength drain exponentially. Damon fights the transition the entire way, struggling against the grip on his head and the magic holding him in place.
Darius clenches on to Damon’s head, chanting under his breath, “Ego ut malediceret tibi.” I curse to thee.
He doesn’t let go until he sees Damon’s eyes become the same simultaneous red and black as his own. When they finally do, the demon releases his grip. Both demon and man fall to the ground, their energy depleted.
Julius and Viribus step into action now, both having been given explicit instructions before the plane even touched the tarmac. The plan is for Julius to hold the new Victus in place while Viribus gets their boss to safety. Then the two of them will teach Damon how to control himself before Viribus goes to stand guard over Darius.
The shorter of the two steps over and uses his power to keep Damon from moving from the ground while the giant scoops up the demon to carry him to safety.
Viribus cradles his boss gently as he moves back through the kitchen to the staircase leading to the room Darius has been using. He slowly lowers the comatose brute onto the mattress. After making sure he’s as comfortable as can be, the Victus rushes back to the alley to check on his comrade and their new recruit.
When Viribus steps back into the dark alleyway, he sees Damon is writhing on the ground. Julius is trying to hold him in place, but now that they are equaled by having the same power, Damon’s returning strength is slowly becoming enough to overpower the demon’s number three.
Viribus puts his size-22 boot on Damon’s chest. The footballer stares up through a creased brow, his fury clearly evident. His skin glistens with a sheen of sweat. His eyes have drained of the black that filled them but are still red, only now they’re bloodshot as a result of his struggle.
“I said no!” Damon bellows. “I don’t fucking want this!”
He thrashes his arms at the foot holding him down. Pieces of broken glass and splintered wood that litter the alley start flying through the air with Damon’s movements. Julius counteracts any harm they could do by using his own power to swat the debris from the air.
When Damon sees what his arms are doing, he freezes. He looks down at his hands with his face slack. Julius and Viribus have seen this all before. They nod to each other and the giant Victus slowly removes the pressure of his foot on Damon’s chest. Damon immediately tries to get up.
“Go slow,” Viribus’s baritone voice cautions.
The new Victus pays no mind choosing to stand up quickly. His vision swirls and he crashes back to his knees, then falls forward. His arms aren’t quick enough to catch himself and he smacks his head on the pavement with a loud crack. He lifts his head slightly. Sporting a gash above his eye, he retches on Julius’s shoes.
“Ah, come on you fucker,” Julius whines shaking his foot out to the side. “Get your shit together, man.”
Viribus helps the footballer get to his feet. He steadies him against the wall until Damon’s eyes still enough to focus on him.
“Easy does it, little one,” Viribus says. He lets go of Damon whose body is able to retake its own weight.
“Now, I have other things to do, so Julius is going to give you a crash course on what’s going on inside you right now and your new job.”
Damon’s eyes zero in on Julius and narrow in anger. Viribus smacks him hard across the face to get the attention back on himself. Droplets of blood from the cut on his face are flung onto the bricks, splattering across the wall.
“You’re new to this, moron, we aren’t,” he points between himself and the demon’s number three, then shoves his finger in Damon’s chest. “You do what we say.
“You need to control what’s happening inside you right now, ‘cause if you don’t, you won’t last long. Consider that lesson one.”
He steps away from Damon and lets Julius take over.
“Lesson two,” the short and wide Victus says jumping in. “You’re on a short leash until you learn. A very. Short. Leash. And we control that leash.”
Viribus raises one eyebrow to punctuate Julius’s last statement.
“Lesson three,” the giant says. “You’re still technically human and we can and will easily kill you if you piss us off. So don’t.”
● 42 ●
“Alexa”
I spent the rest of Thursday making a list and prioritizing th
e things on it. The most important items right now are my Extensios, how to make them and who to make (Cali? Matt? Mickey?); to tell Cali about who I really am, and deal with her reaction; and, figure out what to do with Darius — how was the curse put on him, and do I have to kill him or can I curse him again?
Translating and reading about Extensios took the majority of the rest of the day. I couldn’t get my brain to concentrate for more than a few minutes at a time. Even when I tried to reset and enter a book into the database and then return to my notes, my brain just could not stay focused.
I went upstairs to get a candy bar from the vending machine hoping the sugar rush would rejuvenate me enough to get down to business. No dice.
Plus, I saw Matt as I walked out of the lounge area and, just like a movie, our eyes locked. He stared me down with a look filled with barely concealed lust and yearning. When I finally tore myself away to go back down to the sub-basement, I had to talk myself down from the arousal that was threatening to further derail my day.
I had just gotten down to work on Moby Dick when I got a text from Cali asking if I would be home for dinner. Then a quick text followed it saying that Mickey had just reminded her I was working late. Which then turned into a two-hour text conversation.
No matter what I tried, I got too easily overwhelmed and Thursday was a complete wash. I didn’t get any further in understanding Extensios, or how to make one for that matter.
I left the library at 9 PM making sure each door locked securely behind me since I was alone in the building. Walking home I felt weighed down with guilt that I had essentially gotten nothing done, potentially putting myself and my friends in imminent danger.
**********
The bad feeling that was filling my chest Thursday on my way home is still with me Friday morning when I wake up.
I didn’t sleep well last night and I still haven’t recovered from my previous late night. I wanted to get to the library early again today but barely make it on time. Thankfully Mickey is a morning person and after taking one look at me this morning, she took pity and offered to take Milo on his morning walk. If I had to walk him too, I definitely would’ve been late.
As I open the main door of the sub-basement, I rummage through my bag past my notebook, the tablet, my wallet, and keys, to find my phone. I send Matt a text that I’m sorry I didn’t see him this morning but I was running late. He types back asking about lunch again today. I want to say both yes and no; I want to spend as much time with him as I can, but I also want to do as much work on The Book today as possible.
I text him back that I’ve fallen behind a little and I’m going to work through lunch. I grimace as I watch the three-dot text bubble appear, then disappear, then appear again. But the response I get from him quiets and calms my rising insecurity.
MATT: ok no problem. maybe i’ll you see you later?
LEX: i’m working late again today, probably until about 9. but i’ll definitely see you tomorrow
MATT: ok i’ll call you later babe
Even if I were using all of my powers right now, none of them would be strong enough to stop the fluttering of my heart. Dear lord! A cute boy pays attention to me and calls me babe, and I’m acting like the female lead in a sappy romance novel.
Umm, greatest evil to walk the earth? End of the human world, “Alexa”??
“Right,” I say out loud agreeing with my inner monologue. “No messing around today.”
I set myself up for the day: Laptop booted up and database open; notebook, tablet, and The Book close by but out of sight; phone on with the timer app cued up; white gloves on.
First book up for the day? Crime and Punishment by Dostoyevsky, which is thankfully another book I’m already familiar enough with. It takes me exactly twenty-seven minutes to finish the database entry. I hit save but don’t start a new entry. Instead, I set my timer for ninety minutes and get to work on The Book.
I spend the time until my alarm blares re-translating everything that I got wrong during my sleep deprived delirium two nights ago making sure I’ve left nothing out and it all makes sense. I make some minor changes in the computer and hit save to update the timestamp and close the entry.
The next book on the shelf is Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert. Unfortunately, I haven’t read it, so I actually spend the next two hours skimming through to be able to type up the synopsis.
I put the Madame back and take down the next which is Hamlet by Shakespeare. Easy peasy. It only takes me twenty minutes flat to complete the entry. I set my timer for two hours, take a deep, steadying breath and get ready to learn how to make an Extensios for myself.
If I’m understanding the translation correctly, I say a chant in Latin three times. After the third time, my hand will glow with a bright white light. I then say what the power is that I’m giving, and place my hand on top of the head of the person who has volunteered to become an Extensios.
Once my hand is on their head I say, “I gift to thee” in Latin. Everything is in Latin so I really have to get it right. I don’t know what the consequences are if I mispronounce something or say it in the wrong order.
I also don’t know yet if saying it out loud in English will set anything in motion, so I decide not to say anything until I know for sure.
I write down the order of what I say, first in English then in Latin, on a fresh page in my notebook. And then underneath that, I write Cali’s name again and underline it.
I keep going back to Cali as the best choice. I take out my phone — I have less than forty-five minutes left on the timer — and I send a message to my roommate asking her what she’s doing on Sunday. I get a quick response that Mickey has to work since she took off all day today, yesterday, and half of the day before, so Cali is entirely free. I suggest a roommate day of just the two of us, and Cali jumps at the idea.
Okay, good. Now all I have to do is figure out how to tell her exactly who I am in a way that doesn’t convince her to have me committed. Great.
I go back to The Book to make sure I haven’t missed anything on Extensios. It appears that I’ve translated everything I can. I turn to a fresh page again and flip to the next page in The Book. I’m hoping to find something about the powers I possess and how to use them.
My non-fluent eyes scan the page for the only word I know for sure in Latin: imperium. It means power. I don’t see it on the page I’m on, or on the next page, or the next. The Book isn’t very long, its depth more from the thickness of the sheets than the number of them. My stomach drops as I come to the back cover without seeing “power” anywhere.
I feel the panic rising within me and the blood rushes in my ears making me hear a loud, blaring sound. The noise gets louder and louder until I realize the noise is coming from my phone going off. I turn off the sound but it does nothing to abate my own alarm.
Of course, I know what powers I have. I’ve known since I was young because of the stories about the princess who is the only one able to defeat the demon. Granted, I didn’t exactly know I’m the princess. But, the story never told me how to use my powers, just that I have them.
I put Hamlet back in its place, exchanging it for Anna Karenina by Tolstoy. As I put it down next to the laptop, the unease about not immediately finding something on my powers in The Book is replaced by a thunderous rumbling in my stomach. I guess only having a granola bar for breakfast wasn’t the best idea. I quickly check the time on my phone screen and it’s already 3:30 PM.
“No wonder I’m hungry,” I say. “You’re going to have to wait a minute, Anna.”
I hide The Book so it’s not immediately visible to anyone who could possibly come into CCR1 while I’m gone. I grab my wallet and my ID card and run up to the lounge behind the front desk to raid the vending machines. I get a blue sports-drink from one and two bags of chips from the other. I turn to leave, then think twice and get the same kind of candy bar as yesterday.
I stick my head out and check around to make sure I’m not going to run into
Jeff or Matt, and scurry back to the door leading to the basements.
If I stay again until nine tonight, like I’ve been asked to, then I have five and a half more hours on the day. And unfortunately for me, I haven’t read Anna Karenina or the next one on the shelf which is Middlemarch by George Eliot.
I eat one of the bags of chips and drink half the blue ade. Making sure my hands are clean, I pull on the white gloves and take the photos of Tolstoy’s book. I go back and forth on whether or not to do a Google search instead of spending the time flipping through the pages when a lightbulb goes off in my brain.
“The movie!” I shout. I remember I’m in a library, so I quickly look around to see if I bothered anyone. You’re down here alone, “Alexa”... but it may be time for some human contact soon.
My Name Is Not Alexa Pearce Page 24