by Ryan Attard
There was nothing there. A plain sheet of glass, dust and a plant - mandrake, I think. Resting against the wall below the window was Djinn. The small sword remained where I had placed it after I rushed out to help Abi inside. What the hell was the damn cat referring to?
It took me two more seconds to realize. Crutch, power up, game changer.
Djinn.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I said, each ‘no’ louder than the last.
Amaymon let out a cute mew and turned to the apprentice. “Abi. How would you like a magic wand?”
7
I did not like the idea. Which was probably an understatement considering that I just had a hissy fit in the middle of my office.
“So, I’m guessing you don’t like the idea?” asked Amaymon innocently. Abi let out a little giggle, which didn’t lighten the mood at all.
“Are you actually insane?” I raged at the cat.
“There are several schools of thought about that. And yet, I’m not the one who’s waving his arms around like a madman,” replied the cat pointedly.
“She can’t have one of those,” I said, jabbing a finger at my sword. “Do you have any idea just how dangerous those things are?”
“Yes, Erik, I do,” replied the cat with condescending tones. “Especially since the majority of the power sources used tend to be of my species.”
“Then, you know why she can’t have one.”
“Erm… excuse me?” Abi raised her hand as if this were some school session. “I’m still in the room. Can we stop talking about me like I’m some sort of mannequin?”
“Sorry,” I said. “But this is out of your league.”
“I think you’d make a great doll,” quipped the cat.
The doll in question rolled her eyes at him. “Do I, at least, get to know what he meant by ‘magic wand’?” she asked.
“Fine. It’s like Djinn. You get an object with a creature stuffed in it. It gives that object all the magical properties of the creature, stuff like special abilities and the rest,” I explained.
“You know, I don’t like being excluded from the conversation,” said the cat.
Both of us ignored him. “I’m still not hearing anything dangerous. Sounds like a good thing to me,” said the apprentice.
I sighed. “It is. But there’s a catch. The creature you put in has to be sentient, not your run-of-the-mill demon. It’s gotta be smart and strong, powerful enough to leave a lingering aura even when its physical body is destroyed. And it’s gotta have such magic power that the shape of the vessel won’t matter, still allowing you to channel some pretty strong stuff.”
“Not really getting the big ‘no, no, no’ point here.” Abi had some way to go when it came to drawing conclusions from facts. Then again, I may not be the best teacher around. And damn if I knew what I was talking about. This stuff was long forgotten. Last people who used channels on a regular basis were the druids, and God knows what methods they used. I bet there aren’t five people on the planet who know how to make a proper channel from scratch. I took a deep breath and tried to piece together what bits of information I had into a concrete sentence.
“The creature would still be alive inside, Abi. Which means it will talk and slowly seep its own consciousness into your personality.”
“So, it will try and possess me?” she asked.
“Sort of. More like try to make you its vessel, controlling you instead of you controlling it.” I sighed and gazed at my own channel. “And even if you manage to stay sane and remain yourself, there’s the constant pressure to suppress the influence.”
I looked at her. “You can barely control your own power right now,” I said. “Having a channel is just a surefire way of driving you over the edge. And there’s always the chance that the monster will cause your succubus side to run rampant.”
That made Abi lower her eyes. The apprentice was afraid of her inner demon, much as we all are. Hers is just more apparent. She struggles with control over her emotions at times. She told me about her nightmares, of losing herself and just restarting a new life as an uncontrollable predator.
“Wrong!” Amaymon looked at me and shook his head. “Man, who the hell taught you all this? It’s just sad.”
“I’m self-taught, jackass,” I shot. “And I happen to use one myself.”
“So, how come your personality isn’t affected? Or are you already affected?” asked Abi in a low voice.
“Only one way to find out,” said Amaymon. “Djinn is actually the spirit if a genie, so,” he looked me dead in the eye, “can I get three wishes?”
“Nah. But I can stuff the sword up your ass three times if you like.”
Amaymon glanced at the girl. “Nah. It’s the same crude idiot we all know and love. Sort of.”
“But how come it doesn’t affect you, Erik?” insisted Abi.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. You gotta understand, this is ancient stuff we’re talking about here. No one uses them anymore. Very few know how to make them, and even fewer know how to use them.”
“I know why,” said Amaymon calmly. I gave him a sideways glance.
“What?” He gave me the feline equivalent of a shrug. “Seriously, it’s not that hard to figure out. And besides, you don’t know half of what you’re talking about.”
“Okay then, flea bag. Enlighten us,” I said. I hate it when he does this. I guess it’s the alpha male in me, but I don’t want to be told I’m wrong in front of others, especially when I am supposed to be the damn teacher here.
But if working with my sister, my much smarter, more conceited and condescending sister, has taught me anything, it’s to accept knowledge when it is given. I was just beginning to figure out the true source of power. It wasn’t firepower, but rather, knowledge. It made me think that perhaps that was how I had to get stronger, since there is no way in hell I’m getting powerful enough to match a Sin toe-to-toe.
“Thank you,” said Amaymon. Being a cat suited the demon. He had certainly gotten the catty side down. He cleared his throat, taking his time and basking in the attention we gave him.
“A channel is usually a weapon, since its main use back in the old days was a quick way to sling cheap and easy magic around without the strain of concentration. It allowed a wizard to fire off quick evocations and, at the same time, concentrate on bigger stuff, like a group assault. Of course, there is no rule of law here, but you get the general idea. Point number two — yes, the creature has to be sentient, but it’s not as simple as that. You need to have a compatible personality and magic type, otherwise you’ll just struggle to make the channel do anything. The point of the whole thing was to facilitate the flow of magic, and for that you need to find something for your personal type of magic. Of course, your thought process, approach to magic, lifestyle, choices and decisions, are all accountable. Did I lose anyone yet?”
He exchanged glances with both of us, questioning us with his golden orbs.
“As for the possession,” he continued, “the fact that you share your entire thought process with a magical creature makes it easier for it to slightly manipulate your actions. But, there are two ways to prevent that. The first is how Erik does it. Your magical power is so great that Djinn’s voice gets drowned in it. Sure, it’s there, but it’s basically like trying to whisper something in a dance club. And besides, the circumstances under which you acquired and used it were so traumatic that you managed to shape the Jinn to suit you, rather than the opposite. And Jinn themselves do not have personalities as we know them — they tend to be manifestations of certain emotions or thoughts. Which makes that sword the perfect weapon for you - and only you. If anyone else so much as picked it up, the Jinn inside, who now has your personality template, would instantly lash out. At least, that’s my theory.”
I gazed at Djinn, resting against the wall. I looked at it with a different perspective now, wondering what the Jinn inside felt like. What would it be like, to communicate with a monster with my personality
in it?
“Whoa. I’m never touching that thing again,” said Abi.
“Don’t worry,” replied Amaymon. “That sword is sentient, so it can probably read your intentions.”
“You said there are two methods,” I said.
“Yes. The other is to be in complete sync with the thing inside the channel. In other words, complete harmony. I can’t tell you how to achieve that. Everyone’s got their own method and most simply never achieve it.”
“So, you see why Abi can’t get a channel yet, right?” I said. “She’s got nowhere near the amount of juice needed to suppress the monster, harmony is nearly impossible for anyone, let alone a novice, and where the hell are we supposed to find a monster which meets her exact specifications?”
Amaymon let out a hiss. “You’re an ex-warlock. Your family is the pioneer of that branch of magic. Your sister has an entire selection of monsters and you know everyone in town who dabbles in magic. All you have to do is look.”
“Okay, then,” I spat. “I don’t want to!” Abi gave me a disappointed look. “It’s a loaded gun. At this stage it won’t be any help. It’s too much power all at once and you can’t handle it.”
“Ever thought of letting me make that decision?” she retorted as her cheeks turned pink.
“Not if you die on my watch!” I didn’t mean to yell, but this was one point I had to get across through hell or high water. “You wanna know one thing about the monster you’re supposed to shove in the channel? You gotta defeat it. It’s supposed to be all Zen and stuff. You know, fighting yourself and getting to know yourself better, and taking some sort of inner journey. Only thing is, no one, no matter how powerful, is certain of being able to conquer themselves. You got your ass handed to you by vampires. Twice. This is pure suicide.”
For a long time silence rang uncomfortably. Amaymon kept his eyes fixed on me as I sat on the other side of the couch from Abi. A glint caught my eye. She quickly wiped away a tear and acted as if nothing had happened. That didn’t stop her lip from quivering. Oh, great. I made the apprentice cry. All in a day’s work for Erik Ashendale.
Responsibility sucks.
“Schrodinger’s Cat.” Amaymon broke the silence, and both of us looked at him.
“That’s Abi right now. Schrodinger’s Cat.” Which did more to confuse us rather than answer the question.
“Huh?” said Abi.
“Who’s Schrodinger? Is he that plumber down the block?” I asked. Before you start judging, keep in mind that my homeschooling involved less physics and more… macabre subjects. I may not have the first clue about quantum theory, but I can tell you all about unicorns who use their horns as stabbing tools.
Needless to say, the ex-college student and the really smart cat both gave me pitying looks.
“No, Erik.” Amaymon shook his head. “It’s an experiment where a cat is placed in a box with a switch and some poison and left there. And until the box is open you can’t know if the cat’s alive or dead.”
“What does this have to do with me?” asked Abi.
“Sounds like a good way to get rid of a cat,” I remarked with a snicker.
“Good luck finding a poison I don’t find delicious,” shot back the cat.
“Is that why you were eating the belladonna bush the other day?” questioned Abi.
“Yes. It tastes like chicken. Can we get back to the subject at hand?” he said. “What I meant was that Abi is just like the cat. There’s no way to figure out the extent of her power by simply putting her in danger. Perhaps her power just doesn’t work that way. I think Abi’s power lies within her mind and psychic abilities, rather than elemental manipulation. And there is just no way to figure out what it is by tests. It has to be a ‘do or don’t do’ situation.”
“Okay, Yoda,” I replied. “What do you suggest?”
“Take her to Sun Tsu’s. He’s got that special place we can use. But you gotta know how to approach the apprentice, Erik,” he said as he eyed Abi.
“Let’s make a small bet,” he continued before facing Abi. “If you can’t make it, if you pull the plug on this, then you stay away from danger. You follow the boss’s instructions to the letter and no bitching. But if you walk out of there with a channel, Erik has to take you along on cases unless there is a special circumstance. You’ll have proven your worth and graduate from an apprentice to a wizard. Or witch, in your case. You’ll still be a student, but at least we won’t be stuck repeating the same boring basics.”
“Hey, hey. Since when do you run the show?” I snapped at him.
“Since you’re more worried about keeping her alive rather than teaching her how to do it herself,” shot back the cat.
Ouch. Talk about hitting the nail on its head.
“And,” he continued to Abi, “we can go visit that new place you’ve been dying to visit two streets down.”
“Stay out of my room,” she huffed at him. “But, yeah. I’ll take the bet.” She looked at me. “You?”
This may be exactly what she needs. A final test, which convinces everyone that she is now able to handle such power. If she does fail, I won’t have to have a guilt trip every time I leave her behind. And there was no way I was going to visit some stupid bar or club or whatever place she wanted to go. Whatever it was, it was bound to be loud, full of drunken idiots and modern music that seems to have been written in an alien language by a toaster oven.
Whatever happened to classic rock?
“Fine. I’ll take it,” I said as we shook hands. “I’ll give you a week to train. And since he’s so partial to it, Amaymon gets to watch over you. So, if you fail, you can pin some of it on him. You are to stay here, work hard, and one week from now we go to Sun Tzu’s.”
“What is Sun Tzu’s?” she asked.
“Sun Tzu’s Noodle shop. It’s a Chinese restaurant with an underground magic supply trade,” interjected Amaymon. “Best place in town for certain frowned-upon products. And the sweet and sour pork is off the hook, too.”
“So, who’s this Sun Tzu?” she asked.
Amaymon let out a laugh. “What the hell do you kids use the Internet for these days?”
“You use it for porn,” I sniped at him.
“That’s research,” he shot back defensively, before turning back to Abi. “He’s an old Chinese General, famous for pioneering battle tactics which are still used nowadays. He’s got quite a history.”
“Yeah, but what’s so special about him?” she insisted.
Both Amaymon and I chuckled. “You’ll see,” I said.
8
Sun Tzu’s place looked just like any other Chinese restaurant. The front window had the menu in both English and Mandarin, stenciled Chinese characters with rounded edges on the side and those large, red, circular lanterns hanging around the entire place. If there’s one thing the old man had gotten down, it was the gimmick. Then again, he did have more experience than the entire Chinese population in California put together.
Our entrance was announced by the ringing of a bell. The place looked like it could accommodate maybe thirty patrons, which is how Sun Tsu liked it. Less trouble for him. Four elderly Asian men slurping from china cups looked up at us as we entered. They nodded and resumed their meal. This wasn’t the first time they saw the strange wizard with the long, black trench coat and a matching cat at his feet. Though the hot redhead by my side was probably a first for them.
“Ah, Erik.” Sun Tzu came out from the kitchen and slowly walked toward me. He looked exactly like one of those wizened Kung Fu masters in Chinese flicks – gray-white hair that came to his neck, a bald patch on his head and a thin Jackie-Chan’s-Uncle-from-the-cartoons beard and mustache. He wore a dark blue Chinese uniform, whatever they call them, and walked with the slow, patient step of a man well past his prime. Yet he never lost his balance and his very presence was enough to instill a sense of grace and harmony in the place. He approached me and gave me a loving hug, one that I returned.
“Welcome t
o my place, my young friend. How can I help you today?” His voice wasn’t raspy or throaty but it had a strength to it which conveyed power and confidence. But despite all that, he had a loving tone, like a parent seeing his child once more. Which was true to an extent, I suppose.
After I’d moved here, all messed up after Tenzin had died and all I had was an empty office and an even emptier heart, I had come across Sun Tsu’s in an attempt to find a place which catered to my particular needs. Turns out, Sun Tsu was more than just a shopkeeper. The guy was genuinely nice, a great listener, and gave words of wisdom which were actually helpful instead of cryptic.
“I have an apprentice now, Sun,” I said. He smiled and peered at Abi, who averted her gaze shyly. He kept staring at her.
“Ah, yes. She is special, indeed. Although this is hardly surprising. Special people tend to be attracted to each other by fate,” he mused. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss…?”
“Abigale,” she replied, and shook his fragile-looking hand. “Abi for short,” she added with a nervous laugh.
Sun Tzu’s eyes twinkled. “My dear, when you get to be as old as me, you’ll come to realize that patience is the best of virtues. And besides, Abigale is a beautiful name.” He bowed slightly.
I noticed Abi’s eyes darken, usually a look she reserved for drunken frat boys in clubs who hit on her like someone’s paying them for it. I leaned over and whispered, “He’s not coming on to you. That’s his way of being polite. Now, bow back.”
She bowed slightly and Sun Tzu’s expression lit up.
“What’s up, Grandpa?” said Amaymon. Normally, I wouldn’t take Amaymon out to a restaurant. He was rude and a glutton. Oh, and a talking cat.
I glanced over to the other patrons.
One of them gave me a blank look, before returning to his game of mahjong. Something told me this wasn’t exactly their first encounter with the supernatural. I had no idea what patronage frequented Sun Tzu’s, but if they were all like me, talking cats were considered less horrifying and more… cute.