by N M Thorn
The beast shut its jaws and swallowed the orb as if it were nothing more than a dog treat. His glowing stare pinned Damian in place as the beast turned around, a sound similar to laughter rumbling in its wide chest.
“My turn, puny wizard...” a growling voice sounded in Damian’s mind.
“Oh, fu-uuu-ck!” Damian jumped aside as the monster charged him like an infuriated bull, the balcony shaking with its every step.
Even though the beast missed him, it turned around with a speed Damian didn’t expect from such a sizable creature. Its webby wings spread wide as it glowered at him, ready to charge again. Damian glanced back at Jamie, realizing that if he would step out of the line of attack, the beast would rampage over the young man. Without thinking twice, Damian jumped on top of the balcony railing and whistled.
“Hey, monster, catch me if you can.” He dove down, his wings opening to their full width. To his relief, the monster followed him, reacting to his every move with a swiftness and agility unbelievable for such a heavy creature.
Cursing inwardly, Damian rose higher in the air, now truly feeling the distance from Earth, weakness slowly taking hold of him. The monster followed him, forcing him to rise higher and higher. Making a loop-de-loop, Damian attempted to outmaneuver it, searching for a way to lower himself to the ground, but to no avail. Faster and stronger, the creature whirled in the air and met him face to face. It wrapped its mighty paws around his waist, squeezing him in a deadly embrace.
He pushed against the beast’s chest, struggling to get free, but it squeezed him tighter, its muscled paws as hard as rock. Something cracked, and Damian cried out in pain. The monster roared in response and flapped its wings, moving higher and higher. As weakness assailed him with full force, Damian stopped fighting and hung limply in the monster’s paws, his black wings gone. Somewhere high above him, stark-black against the pinkish backdrop of the morning sky, a white-tailed eagle was flying like a soundless shadow. Even from this distance, the bird looked a bit too big to his eye.
“A little higher, Bulat... About a hundred yards more and hold him there...”
Damian wasn’t sure if it was his frazzled mind overpowered by weakness playing tricks on him, or if it was really the eagle who said that, but the beast obeyed. It flapped its wings, rising even higher, holding him firmly in its paws.
“Now, bring him down,” commanded the eagle and vanished.
The monster obeyed again and spiraled down from the sky. Coming to a halt above the balcony, he lowered Damian carefully to the floor next to Jamie. Damian stirred weakly and reached for the energy of Earth, trying to recharge as much as he could without the direct connection with his element. The beast sat back, looking like a regular dog now. Tilting his head from left to right, he observed Damian’s every move, a doggish grin splitting its muzzle.
What the hell?
Ignoring the monster and its odd behavior, Damian scrambled to all fours and turned to Jamie, quickly checking his vitals. The young wizard was alive, but he was losing a lot of blood and if Damian couldn’t heal him right away, he would most certainly die. He channeled as much of his element as he could gather in his condition, moving the energy to the palms of his hands. But as soon as a bright, orange glow enveloped his hands, the dog got up, and its wings opened up again.
“Don’t move, Child of Earth, or I will take you to the stratosphere,” he growled, his eyes shining brighter with a deep blue light.
“If I don’t heal him, my friend will die,” snapped Damian, with shock recognizing how weak his voice sounded. “I have to heal him now.”
“You’re no match for me, Child of Earth,” growled the dog, taking a step closer, baring its giant fangs. “I have my orders. Disobey me, and I’ll make sure to take you as high as my wings can carry me.”
“I know that in my current condition, I’m weakened, and you can most likely deliver on your promise,” hissed Damian, his fingers clenching into fists, “but Jamie is my friend, and he’s innocent in all this. So, you do what you must—kill me for all I care—but I swear I’ll find a way to destroy you if you try to stop me from saving his life.”
Turning away from the beast, Damian focused on Jamie. He placed his hands over the young man’s chest and forehead and started the healing process. The monster growled behind him warningly, but Damian ignored him.
“Bulat, stand down. Good boy,” the voice of the eagle sounded in Damian’s mind again. “Let him do his thing.”
As Damian circulated more and more healing energy through his friend, his hands shook with the strain, sweat trickling down his forehead. Gradually, the bleeding stopped, and the wound closed. Jamie cracked his eyelids open, his gaze still unfocused.
“Jamie,” Damian exhaled, sitting back on his heels. The world swayed and spun around him, and he closed his eyes for a moment to deal with the nauseating weakness. “Jeez, man, you scared me shitless. Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” The shock sounded in the young man’s voice as he raised his hand to touch his shoulder, and a faint smile ghosted his pale lips.
“Took the proverbial bullet for me.” Damian chuckled, gazing down at his friend with reproach, warmth and sadness spreading through him. “I’m immortal, you dumbass. They can’t kill me.”
“But they can still hurt you...” Jamie shrugged with a sheepish grin. “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. What happened? Did you heal me?”
“I hope I did. Although foolhardiness is an incurable disease, I believe.” Damian glanced down at him, wiping sweat off his face with his hand. “Anyway...” He bit his lip and looked away, warmth rising in his chest. “Thank you.”
“What a wonderful reunion. So touching.” The eagle’s voice, filled with sarcasm, sounded in Damian’s head, causing him to flinch and turn around just in time to see the enormous bird land on the balcony.
A dark mist surrounded the eagle, and once it dissipated, a tall man in his late forties, dressed in blue cargo jeans and a long-sleeved, black shirt, stood in front of him, observing him with interest in his attentive dark-brown eyes. His black hair fell to his shoulders, ruffled by the breeze, and he raked his hand through it, throwing it off his face impatiently. His arched eyebrows lowered, and two deep wrinkles materialized between them, making him look older. Damian froze in place, carefully channeling his magic, knowing ahead of time that after the air-battle and performing healing magic, he was too weak to fight.
An uneven smirk lifted the corner of the man’s mouth, and he tapped his thigh with his hand, calling to the monstrous dog. The beast approached him and sat at his feet, wagging its short tail.
“Disengage from your magic, Child of Earth,” the man said frostily. “I believe you’re experienced enough to know that after performing the healing and your little trip to the”—he chuckled, pointing up—“high heaven, you are too weak magically and physically.” He moved closer, the beast following his every step. “That was my goal—to weaken you enough so we could talk like civilized people without guns blazing or swords swinging.”
Damian smirked, stifling the boiling fury within him. “So, you almost kill this innocent young man, who did nothing wrong except for being loyal to his friend, just to drain me? You call that civilized?”
The man shrugged. “No, killing him was never my goal,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his wide pants, “but I did want him injured. It was a test. I wanted to see if this boy was loyal enough to you to sacrifice himself, and then I wanted to check how far you would go to save him.” He tilted his head a little, and his lower lip puffed out, before he waved his hand as if dismissing the matter. “I guess you do deserve his blind loyalty after all.”
A growl rumbled in Damian’s throat, his chest rising and falling with strenuous breaths as he struggled to contain his rising anger. “Are you satisfied?”
“Very much so.” A wide smirk split the man’s face, leaving his eyes alert and cold.
“What do you want?” growled Damian
. As Jamie stirred on the floor, attempting to get up, he helped him to his feet, supporting him with his shoulder.
“What do I want?” The man shook his head, staring at Damian with unconcealed sarcasm. “The real question is what you want, Child of Earth. You came here with hostile intent, so I want to know why.” Since Damian remained silent, he waved his hand dismissively and continued. “I couldn’t sense your magic, but I could detect your hostility from a mile away. So I created this little illusion to make you use your magic and reveal your supernatural identity.”
“There is nothing to reveal. I’m a Child of Earth,” replied Damian dryly.
“Oh, you’re a lot more than that,” objected the man, shaking his head. “But we’ll get back to that subject later. In the meantime, allow me to introduce myself.” He held out his hand. “My name is Yakov Vilimovich Bruce, but the locals call me Jacob Bruce or—”
“JB,” whispered Damian, goosebumps rising on his arms.
Chapter 21
~ Damian Blake ~
“I’m Damian Blake,” said Damian, taking JB’s hand, “and this is Jamie Coldwell.”
JB squeezed Damian’s hand, sending a wave of his magic through him to explore his abilities. Damian hissed and jerked his hand back, realizing that in his weakened state, most likely, he wasn’t a hundred percent successful at concealing his energy. JB’s lips stretched wider, and he waved in the direction of his apartment.
“Well, come in, boys,” he said not without a hefty load of sarcasm in his voice, heading toward the door with the large numbers two-one-two on it. “You came unannounced, but since you’re already here, be my guests.”
He halted by the doorway, allowing his pet-monster to pass through first, and then ushered Damian and Jamie inside.
Damian halted by the door, observing the apartment in shock. Whatever he expected to find there, this wasn’t it. The place looked more like a modern science lab than the home of a dangerous necromancer. Most of the living area was taken by strange machines and computers, wires dangling from them like some oversized spider web. A light scent of chemicals lingered in the air, and the dim light of multiple monitors illuminated the semi-dark room.
Noticing Damian’s hesitation, JB shrugged and pursed his lips. “Not what you expected?” he asked. Gesturing for them to sit down on a small sofa by the wall, he flipped the light switch on.
“Not at all,” replied Damian, taking a seat. The sofa moaned under his weight, and he shifted to the edge, leaning forward slightly. “When I think of a powerful and dangerous Master of the Dark Arts, a school science lab is not what I envision.”
“Powerful and dangerous, eh?” JB’s eyebrows rose, confusion written all over his face. “Powerful—yes. Dangerous—no, unless you force me to be, like you did earlier.” He leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “Why are you here, Child of Earth? You didn’t come in peace, and I would like to know how you found me, and why you were searching for me in the first place.”
“Why would you assume I didn’t come in peace?” asked Damian coldly, his eyes darting to the monster-dog sitting next to JB’s feet. “We barely made our way into your apartment complex when you attacked us with your illusions and set your dog on us.”
“Dog, eh? Bulat is the one who can sense the hostile intent, but he’s so much more than a dog.” JB chuckled, gazing heavenward. “I can’t believe someone as old as you didn’t recognize him for what he is. And don’t try to lie.” He twirled his hand impatiently, frowning. “I have no patience for lies. You have to be one of the immortals since you’re a Child of Earth and God knows what else. I can sense your magic, and you’re as powerful and as dangerous as I am, if not more so.”
Opening his other sight, Damian carefully scanned the large animal sitting next to JB’s feet, and the hairs rose on the back of his neck and his arms. The dog gave him a wide grin, his powerful magical energy swirling around him.
“Dammit, I can’t believe I missed it,” he whispered, shaking his head. “All the signs were right in front of me. He’s as heavy as a ton of bricks and incredibly strong. My dagger couldn’t penetrate his hide, and he can detect potential danger. He’s—”
“A gargoyle,” said Jamie, his voice a terrified whisper. The young man raised his eyes at JB, staring at him in awe. “But a gargoyle would never serve anyone evil... And Bulat seems to be loyal to you through and through.”
“Tuh-duh.” JB spread his arms. “The proof is in the pudding. Like I said, I’m powerful, but not evil. So, let’s start from the beginning. My name is Yakov Bruce. I consider myself to be more scientist than a magician.” He waved his hand around the apartment. “Since the early seventeen hundreds, I’ve lived and breathed science. Astronomy, astrology, chemistry, mathematics, physics, medicine, history, art—you name it, I studied it.”
Damian exchanged a quick look with Jamie, noticing a dumbstruck expression on his face. “I think I know who you are,” said Damian, meeting JB’s calm gaze. “You’re Count Yakov Bruce, Tsar Peter the Great’s righthand man. After your death, all sorts of wild gossips and legends spread across the land. You were named a dark sorcerer and warlock. Peasants were talking about some Water of Life you had created, that could heal any wound, even resurrect the dead.”
“Sorcerer-shmorcer,” muttered JB, rolling his eyes. “You can’t stop people from wagging their tongues no matter what century it is.” He thought for a moment, but then sighed and added, “There is such a thing as Water of Life, of course, but I didn’t invent it. The real Water of Life comes from a well in the sacred garden of the magical nexus, the Land of Dreams. There is another liquid substance that can heal any wound. It’s called vampire’s blood. I didn’t invent it either.”
“But you did practice necromancy, alchemy, summoning, and other forbidden Dark Arts.” Damian rubbed his forehead, thousands of thoughts rushing through his mind. “Not everything you studied was pure science.”
“Oh, that?” Yakov shrugged, a crooked smirk lifting one corner of his mouth. “Of course, I did! It’s called the normal curiosity of an inquisitive mind. Still, it doesn’t make me evil, just like it doesn’t explain your intentions.”
“Something doesn’t add up, Count.” Damian got up, towering at least a few inches over JB. “If you’ve practiced forbidden arts, how are you still living in the human realm and not in one of the Destiny Council’s holding cells?”
“I said I practiced the Dark Arts, but not for long. I haven’t done that for centuries,” growled JB, stepping closer to Damian. But as his eyes slipped from Damian’s chest up, he chuckled. “Intimidating SOB, aren’t yah, Damian Blake?”
Damian didn’t reply, staring at JB without blinking. The old wizard threw his hands up and then started unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt on his right wrist. He folded his sleeve all the way, exposing his arm. The entire surface of his skin was covered in an intricate tattoo, letters of the Dragon tongue intertwining with the design. Under the ink, the barely visible scar of an old burn marred the inner side of his forearm. JB pressed his hand over his upper arm, murmuring something under his breath. As he removed his hand, a rune glowing with a brilliant white light materialized on his skin.
He pointed at the rune and said with a deep sigh, “The reason I’m not in the Destiny Council prison is that I work for them—for the secret division of the Wardens Order sponsored by the Destiny Council, to be precise. After I died, they brought me back and made me an offer I just couldn’t refuse. They placed all the resources of the Wardens Archives and Libraries at my disposal. Well, almost all of them. How could anyone in their right mind refuse such a generous offer?”
Damian recognized the signature rune of the Destiny Council, and desperation spread through him, twisting his stomach into a tight knot.
“God damn it all,” he whispered, moving his hand over the rune to confirm its authenticity. “What a giant waste of time.” He inclined his head, pressing his fist to his chest. “I apologize for the intrusion, Count Bruce.
Jamie and I will be on our way.” He gestured for Jamie to get up.
“Whoa, not so fast.” JB held his hands in a timeout sign. “Obviously, there was some kind of misunderstanding here, and if I’m not mistaken, we do work on the same side. Maybe I can help you if you tell me who you are and what brought you here in the first place.”
“Yes, we do work on the same side,” confirmed Damian. “I’m a Commander of the Destiny Enforcers.”
He slipped his jacket off his shoulder and touched his upper arm to reveal his own rune. Then he reached in his pocket, producing the dagger with the eagle-head pommel. He extended his hand, offering the dagger to JB, the electric light igniting bright sparkles in the small stones embedded into the eagle’s eyes. The wizard took it, his hands trembling as he brushed his fingertips over the blade.
“Oh, my God... Oh, God...” he exhaled, a mix of emotions reflected in his eyes. “Damian, how did you find it? Where? I lost it a long time ago. It’s...” His voice shook, and he pressed his fingers to his eyes. “Tsar Peter the Great gifted this dagger to me in the year seventeen twenty-one, and I never parted with it since. Until I lost it, or it was stolen from me, that is.” He raised his eyes at Damian, liquid gathering in the corners. “How did you come in possession of it, Commander, and can I—” He cut himself off and exhaled a ragged breath, unable to voice his plea.
“You can keep it,” said Damian, lowering back on the sofa with a heavy sigh.
In so many words, he told JB the problem he was facing in his state, about his meeting with Az and how he acquired the dagger. As the wizard listened to him, his features hardened, a shadow of concern settling on his face, but at the place where Damian told him about the unsuccessful heist, he chuckled, for a brief moment pride twinkling in his dark eyes.
Once Damian finished, a winning smile graced his face. “My inventions truly work.”
“Which inventions?” asked Jamie, staring at him with curiosity.