Birthright - Book 2 of the Legacy Series (An Urban Fantasy Novel)

by Ryan Attard

  “We’ll be shot on the spot.”

  “Why is that?”

  “We look homeless.”

  “Let us break in, then.”

  “If we damage anything, it’s our heads on a platter,” I replied.

  “Even if we save the inhabitants from danger?”

  “Funny how people think, huh?”

  Tenzin shook his head. “Man has always placed too much importance on tangible materials, often at the expense of irreplaceable things.” He began walking away from Carson Mansion, slowly moving along the sidewalk. I stayed by his side.

  “The monster I sense here reflects that greed,” he continued. “A Yokai is born out of greed and lust for power. It takes the shape of a heart-broken woman, usually wearing white. She is surrounded by small licks of blue flames. These are the souls of her victims. In life, her soul died because of greed and misery. In death, she seeks to satisfy her hunger by consuming the souls of others. But once she eats too much, the blue fire of the soul will incinerate her and destroy her.”

  “Then, why are we hunting her?” I asked. “Let’s just wait until she burns up.”

  Tenzin’s stern expression appeared again. “She will kill again and again, Erik, until she reaches her limit. That may be a hundred victims from now. Are you willing to wait until a hundred people die?”

  I shook my head. If there was ever a Nobel Prize for guilt-tripping people, Tenzin would bring home the gold for sure.

  “Fine,” I said. “How does she attack?”

  “She simply appears. Which is why we must keep vigil over the house.”

  “And how are we going to do that?”

  He pointed at a coffee shop. “We eat first. Maintain our strength. Tonight, we observe the place for any activity.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Why couldn’t you have just said ‘stakeout’?”

  Tenzin’s bushy, gray eyebrows shot in the air, and then he looked away. “Because I do not know how to pronounce that.”

  ***

  It was late in the afternoon when we went into that coffee shop. Tenzin had pulled out a small bag of money and actually paid for a meal – something I’d never seen him do. “I need all my focus on the house,” he explained when he noticed my look. I didn’t question it. Partly because I wouldn’t understand half of it.

  Also, because my burger and fries appeared on my table and I was too busy cramming a day’s worth of calories down my throat. And any meal where a fluffy ghost bunny wasn’t sniffing at my food was aces in my book.

  About three hours later, Tenzin and I were lurking behind a house opposite Carson Mansion.

  “So, what are we waiting for?” I whispered for no reason at all. The area was illuminated, and people occasionally walked by without so much as a glance. Besides, no one suspects an old man like Tenzin to be a terrorist.

  “Anything out of order.” He leaned against a wall and closed his eyes. “I’ll be able to feel it.”

  And that was the beginning of two hours of wasted time. I paced around, shuffled my feet and cracked my knuckles, neck, and every part of my body that ached or itched. Tenzin would occasionally crack an eye open, smirk, and close it again. The old man seemed to mock my lack of patience. It’s easy to judge others when you’re so Zen. I would glare back, and it took all of my mental discipline not to ask God to speed things up.

  After two hours of fidgeting I had just about had it with all the waiting and the silence. The sun was setting gently, and in an hour or so it would be night-time. And I did not want to spend an entire night waiting for some ghost to pop up. I turned to Tenzin to ask him something, anything. The Asian man jerked upright, instantly pushing himself off the wall.

  “What?” I asked. A chance for action, anything, if it meant no more waiting.

  He held his hand up, silencing me. His eyes snapped open. “It’s in the house.”

  We ran all the way to the Mansion, vaulting over the gate. Something about the stillness of the place bugged me, but I chalked it up to supernatural vibes. I mean, there was a soul-sucking lady ghost inside Carson House – if that doesn’t set off your Spidey-Sense, I don’t know what does. No alarm went off, no beefy guys stepped out to throw us out, and no rich people sent their grunts to gun us down.

  Nothing — not even a spotlight.

  We broke the door down, and it looked like a bull had been set loose. Furniture, chandeliers, papers – everything was intricate and beautiful.

  Everything was also upturned and smashed to bits.

  My stomach sank. Every little thing inside this house must have a five-figure price tag. If we were caught, I’d have to sell a kidney and an eyeball just to cover the cost of the damage in the kitchen.

  A scream erupted from outside, and we raced toward the stairs. Overlooking the entire city was a balcony, giving me a bird’s eye view. I followed the direction of the sound. I never made it to the balcony, and from a large window I got a glimpse of a minor horror show. On top of the roof of the storage room was an elderly man, well into his sixties, and dressed in a tux. He was running and stumbled on something, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Behind him, trailing ominously like the ghost she was, the Yokai followed. Three little blue flames hung around her, like floatation devices. Catching a glimpse of her, the old man screamed like a hysterical woman and crawled fervently away. I unwrapped Djinn from its blanket and prepared to break the window with the butt of the weapon. It wasn’t like a broken window would matter much after the disaster all around us. Tenzin held me back.

  “Allow me.” He placed his fingertips on the glass pane and suddenly jerked his body like a whip. His palm cracked against the glass, shattering everything including the frame, into tiny fragments.

  “A derivation of the One-Inch Punch,” he explained.

  “You gotta teach me that someday,” I remarked, impressed.

  There were no shards to rip at my skin or clothes, so I just jumped out. It wasn’t the longest jump I’d ever made, and I landed with a thud and rolled behind the Yokai. She didn’t seem to notice me. Tenzin leapt down as light as a feather. He didn’t roll. He didn’t even flail his hands. He should have broken something, but instead he strode calmly next to me. I heard the murmur of a familiar chant. A blazing white stallion reared on two legs and whinnied loudly enough to wake up the entire state of California.

  The horse deva galloped towards the ghost, snorting billows of luminescent clouds. The Yokai froze in place and let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a blender and a scream. It didn’t matter – the stallion maintained its momentum.

  Seconds before the impact, the Yokai disappeared, leaving the stallion to falter and snort at the empty spot. It disappeared in a puff of brilliant little sparkles.

  “You got her, right?” I asked Tenzin. He fixated the spot the Yokai and his spell had occupied seconds earlier.

  “No,” he said quietly. “She got away.”

  Suddenly, a dull, raw crack! rang out from the direction the man had run, echoing through the still night. We spun instantly.

  The old man lay face up. Behind him, cradling his clearly broken neck was a small, thick creature with brown, leathery skin and bloodshot eyes. A hand with three thick fingers and an opposable thumb was wrapped tightly around the old guy’s neck.

  “My, oh, my.” Holding the man’s hand was another man wearing a fedora and a pinstriped suit.

  “You’re not even worth the effort,” he said, disgusted, as he roughly let go of the hand. A wailing shattered the night behind him, and he reached out with a gloved hand, never taking his eyes off us. The Yokai clawed at his arm as he held her by the neck. He hissed and moaned, clearly enjoying the experience. The Yokai stopped struggling. The blue flames disappeared, and the ghost soon faded away into nothing.

  “Why do they always insist on feeding on sad, old men? Whatever happened to men in their prime? So much better,” he said in mock exasperation.

  He took one step toward us and grabbed his fedora. H
is jet-black hair, slicked back and oily, matched his gray-blue skin. He looked like the cheesiest vampire in history.

  “But where are my manners?” He placed his hat on his chest and bowed. “Alastair Crowley at your service.” A shiver ran down my spine, and I felt the weight of the world settling on my shoulders. I remained frozen on the spot, too scared to even twitch.

  “And if it ain’t the little warlock boy I’ve been scouring the land for,” said Crowley as he grinned evilly. “How are you doin’, Erik?”

  35

  Djinn quivered in my hand. That was all I could do – shake uncontrollably before Crowley.

  “And, look,” Crowley said as he put his hat back on. “You got yourself a hobo friend.”

  Tenzin positioned himself forward, partly shielding me from Crowley.

  “My name is Tenzin,” he said calmly. “Am I to assume that this is some form of ruse?”

  “Right you’d be,” replied Crowley jovially. “But, where are my manners?” He clapped his hands once.

  At the sound of the sharp noise the small creature sprung as fast and sudden as lightning toward Tenzin. It snarled ferally, exposing bloodstained fangs. Its fist connected squarely with Tenzin’s ear. I’d never seen the man take a hit before. The best I ever did was to deflect one of his strikes. Yet, this little three-foot leathery monster sent him reeling a few steps backwards. It didn’t stop there.

  The creature skittered past me, too fast for me to react, and swiped at Tenzin’s legs. Even stunned as I was, my eyes still worked. This funny-looking bizarre creature was clearly a hunter — no quarter was given, no movement wasted. Only predatory movements.

  But then again, it was up against Tenzin. The first punch might have gotten him, but he skipped over the creature’s second, lower swipe and lashed out with a kick of his own. Its head snapped backwards. Tenzin kept his assault with another kick and the creature retaliated, swinging blindly. Tenzin twisted, avoiding the strike, grabbed its hand and placed his other hand at the back of its head. An instant later, his body faced the other direction and the creature flipped over him, its head being driven into the hard stone. A sickening crack filled the air, followed by a sharp yelp. The creature crawled away slowly, like a wounded animal. Tenzin stomped on its chest, eliciting another yelp.

  “Ah, you must be one of those kung-fu monks,” said Crowley with enthusiasm. “Yeah, yeah, I remember you guys. Kick-ass exorcists. Y’all live in the Iga Mountains or something.”

  Tenzin’s expression darkened and for a millisecond, a vein in his neck twitched.

  “But whatever, you ain’t faster than a bullet,” spat Crowley. He extracted a chunky revolver from his coat and pulled the trigger. A small bead of light rocketed toward Tenzin.

  “Watch out,” I heard myself yelling, but it was too late. Tenzin was already crouching, bending forwards from the shot. Horror washed over me. “Tenzin!”

  But Tenzin stood up and held his fist out. “It seems that I am faster than a bullet. Thank you for the opportunity to test my reaction speed to the limit.” He opened his palm, and there it was, a silver bullet with intricate grooves and ridges. The bullet was large, far bigger than those magnum calibers. “If you wish to kill me, you will have to do much better.”

  Crowley smirked. “I already have.”

  The bullet sprung to life and wrapped around Tenzin’s wrist and forearm. It became a weasel, its body constructed from the same material as the bullet. It sunk its scythe-like teeth into his wrist while the rest of its long body curled tightly around his arm, claws drawing blood.

  “A kamaitachi?” Tenzin was more amused than surprised. Blue lightning spiraled around the little weasel. The creature screamed and relinquished its grip. It disappeared in a puff of smoke before it hit the ground.

  Crowley made a face. “Those Kanko weasels were a pain to catch. Had them modified and everything.” He popped the chamber open and extracted an empty cartridge case the size of a double-A battery. “The critter shoots out and bites off a piece of your aura. And here’s the kicker — it gets stored in here,” he said, shaking the empty case. He put it to his lips and sucked.

  “Ahh. That’s divine. See what I did there?” He slipped the case into his coat pocket. “I’ll save the rest for later.” He snapped the chamber back in place and pointed the gun at Tenzin.

  “Due to special modifications, this puppy can only hold three special bullets,” Crowley said as he waved the gun at Tenzin. “That means I got two more to spare. Who’s feelin’ lucky?”

  Tenzin stepped forwards, light slowly encasing his body. “I shall protect us with the will of God,” he said, his voice deep and powerful.

  Crowley remained unfazed. “Will of God?” he said mockingly. “Well, damn, I better step up my game.” He clapped his hands twice and hollered, “Oh, boys!”

  And all hell broke loose.

  The wall behind me exploded.

  Which is pretty impressive, considering that behind me was Carson freaking Mansion.

  It barreled through one of the conical Disney Princess Towers. And by it, I mean a ten-foot tall gorilla with short brown spiky fur all over its body. Its head looked human enough, if you ignored the spiky hair, beady black eyes and jagged teeth. It moved on all fours past me and I caught a glimpse of something long trailing behind it. It stopped abruptly, almost unnatural for something with that much momentum, and I felt a sharp needle of pain in my right collarbone. A snake, brown as wet mud, was biting my shoulder, its fangs buried deep inside me. I couldn’t move my body. I mean, I wasn’t paralyzed from fear anymore – I just couldn’t move my limbs and was having trouble getting my lungs to breathe. Less than a second later the snake retreated, and one of the beasts clawed hands stabbed at me. It dug right into my chest and I nearly blacked out. I lost all power, magical or physical. Djinn hung loosely by my side, my index finger still curled inside the ring in its cross guard. I focused all of my waning energy into not shutting down completely.

  At the same time, two other leathery midgets sprung from nowhere and rocketed toward Tenzin. The wounded one seemed to have recuperated and joined the fray. Tenzin had already leapt toward me. The pair slammed into him, pinning him face down on the ground by the arms. The third one dove on top of him and wrapped an arm around his neck, not fully choking him, but making breathing something of a chore.

  Crowley whooped in the air, like an overgrown frat boy, still waving the oversized gun. “Haha. Now, that was cool.”

  Tenzin struggled against the creatures, but they held fast. They may be shorter, but each of them looked like it weighed about a couple hundred pounds.

  “Swamp goblins,” said Crowley conversationally. “Only goblins capable of surviving in this humid dump. Regular ones just shrivel up and it is nearly impossible to get a hold of a mountain specimen. These guys usually hunt marine creatures, silent as can be. Damn good swimmers, too, what with the webbed hands and all.”

  As if to demonstrate, the goblin with its arm around Tenzin’s neck outstretched its palm. Its four stubby fingers had a thin filament to the first knuckle. Aquatic evolution and full finger dexterity – nature sure can be a bitch sometimes. The goblin pressed its hand into a fist, a clear sign to stop resisting or get hurt. Tenzin stopped his struggling and that seemed to please the goblin.

  “And this guy,” continued Crowley. “This guy is what you might call a nue. Rare creatures they are, and almost impossible to manage.” He patted the enormous beast lightly on the forearm, and the nue let out a series of clicks and groans from its throat.

  “This one took a little coaxing, but he was worth it. That snake tail serves as a surprise counter attack, and once they get running, nothin’ can stop them. Poison claws, poison fangs, and poison snake - this guy’s perfect to stop someone with your powers, Erik. And they never make a sound. Ain’t predators awesome?”

  The nue made its noise again. I would have told Crowley to go blow himself, but I was too busy trying not to die. As long as that overgr
own gorilla kept pumping venom in me, I’d never be able to move. Crowley might be a creep, but he’s a good hunter. A smart one, and those are the worst kind.

  Trust me, I grew up with one.

  “Why?” I have no idea how I managed it. A smart person would have conserved his energy.

  But I’m not a smart person. I’m a curious one.

  Crowley appeared very happy with my question and did a little dance.

  “Why?” he repeated. “Tell me, Erik, have you figured out what it is, exactly, that I do? Or what I am? Or why I look like this?”

  I didn’t answer for reasons I already explained.

  Giant monkey. Stabbing. Poison. Erik dying.

  “I ain’t no vampire if that’s what you’re thinking. Nah, I’m human, just like you.” He paused for effect, and when I didn’t get it, he kept talking. “I’m a specialist, and my magic du jour is abjuration. It’s that class of magic that amplifies energy, playing around with it like a musician. We take stuff that’s already there and make it better. Yeah, not that impressive, I know. We’re like some damn Japanese corporation.”

  He spun and spread his hands, like a stage magician preparing for his final trick.

  “But,” he hollered with glee, “the true essence of abjuration is the pure, core energy. This is too abstract for most wizards to grasp, which is why we don’t get a lot of customers. But I have figured something out. What if I could reverse the process? Instead of hitting the amplify button, what if I were to press mute?”

  Reverse of amplification? That would mean…

  “You seem to have figured it out, by the look on your face,” Crowley hollered. “I decay magic. If I see it, it’s dead meat. No energy, no juice. No juice, no spell, and all you’re left with is some retard who thinks he’s better than you cause he’s a pyromancer or somethin’.” He licked his lips.

  “Why, you ask? Because I get off on it. I get this tingly feeling in my naughty parts when I feel all that powerful, powerful magic just… die.” He laughed manically and shivered.