“Dare I ask what sleeper?”
Antonio Tlatani stepped to the side. His pelt clad Facebook friends did the same. At the far end of the room, I saw a crude stone altar slick with blood. Revulsion and nostalgia hit me in equal dosages.
A man in a jaguar pelt was writhing about atop the altar. At Antonio’s encouragement, the ritual master increased the volume of the chants, beefing up the latent magics and bathing the pelted man with strange spells and crimson light.
This didn’t fit. Even Antonio didn’t look more than twenty five. And he certainly didn’t have the restraint of a mage that had seen anything resembling formal academia. This meant that he was either a hedge mage, an apprentice to a renegade, or he came across some power or book of knowledge that taught him how to do some neat tricks.
The technical term for the ritual magic before me was transmogrification. The ancient Aztecs were masters of it. With enough magic essence, or Teotl as Itabimori called it, it was possible to fuse a Human with an animal, spiritually and literally. Unfortunately, it’s not as quick and scientific a process as I made it sound.
Cries and growls of agony filtered through the room. Short yipping shrieks erupted from the subject’s throat and carried on as muscles and flesh knit and reknit in a chaotic maelstrom. Mana, Teotl, pure magic, whatever it might be called the end result of the ritual was a half man half jaguar hybrid.
Warehouse dungeon? More like were-house dungeon.
“It’s a shame I have to run some errands, friend. It seems rude to not hang around and see you get torn limb from limb when Estaban wakes up from his cat nap,” Antonio said, gesturing to the were-jaguar. “Any questions before I go?”
I couldn’t help but say, “Don’t forget your packed lunches. Also, isn’t it a school night?”
Antonio’s fuse was lit. A punch to my face left me with a nose bleed. A knee to my side left me gasping for breath. Totally worth it.
“By the way,” Antonio said, wiping my blood off his fist. “I took the liberty of going through your pockets while you were hung up. I wonder, will that confidence of yours last without this little stick?”
Anthonio produced my wand, holding it cruelly close to me.
“What’s that? You don’t want it back yet?” Antonio asked. “I’ll give it to Estaban for safekeeping then. If you want it back you’ll have talk to him instead.”
Amateur mage he may be, but when it came to cruelty, Antonio was an expert. Using a bit of string, he tied my wand around the unconscious were-jaguar’s neck, smiling at his handiwork.
With finality, he turned to his followers. “Last one out get the lights.”
The whole mob of pelt clad cultists evacuated. Obedient little pawns, but that didn’t stop them from casting wary glances over their shoulder to make sure Estaban the were-jaguar didn’t wake up prematurely.
My death knell sounded exactly like a large rickety metal door slamming shut and locking.
Chapter 12
Just me and a few hundred pounds of rage, muscle and sharp fangs alone in a room together. How romantic.
At least, I thought we were all alone. To my surprise I caught the tap tap of footsteps coming back down.
I craned my neck to see one of Antonio’s minions standing to the side of me, a hand raised up to her mouth to cover a yawn. Sunglasses obscured her eyes, but the crucifix hanging from her neck removed all doubt as to who she was.
“Really takes you back, doesn’t it, Lis?” I asked.
Lisistrathiel had power in spades. The problem was that she only ever seemed to use it in the most aggravatingly roundabout ways possible. Her favorite trick was becoming almost unnoticeable to anyone she didn’t want to be noticed by. It would take a sorcerer of immense experience, or exceptional talent, to so much as ask ‘wait, who did you say that was again?’ Not even the talented Itabimori doubted Lis’ ‘chauffeur’ excuse for an second.
“Nostalgia is a very strange thing, Charlie. The older you get, the more of it you find in the world. This all reminds me of the time we first met. You were just a tiny knot of malice back. You looked so cute on that altar back then,” Lis said.
“Back then, you say,” I muttered.
“Well, now that you’re a much much bigger knot of malice. I’d say you’re less cute and more...”
“Handsome?” I recommended.
“You want a mirror so you can admire your reflection better?”
“Lis, believe it or not, I actually require help here. Will you give it to me?” I asked.
Lis smiled. Sharp teeth. “Matthew, chapter seven, verse eight: For everyone who asks receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.”
With a little ‘ta-da’, she drew an iron key chain from between her breasts and unlocked my right hand’s shackles. I swiftly took the initiative and unlocked my left. The key slipped right in but the rusty shackle was being difficult. Rusted shut? I cast a wary glance towards the still unconscious were-jaguar.
“I thought that quote was from verse seven,” I replied to Lis.
“Oh. Would’st thou prefer I quote from the King James version, Charles Montgomery Locke? Tis mine own fav’rite despite th’archaic pronunciation,” Lis threatened.
“I humbly withdraw my complaint. I need to slay the were-jaguar,” I said. “Go get my wand while I get out of this.”
“Fetching things? I’m not that convenient a gal Charlie, and while we’re at it, getting loosed from your shackles counts as your freebie,” Lis replied. “If you want the jaguar dead so bad just use one of your other thingies on him.”
“Gun’s not on me. No dagger either. I was on vacation, damn it.”
“Excuses. Didn’t that were-hound girl give you some trinket to use or something?”
“We were ambushed by the Nagual before she had a chance,” I said, finally tearing my wrist free of the shackle. “At this rate I’m going to end up having to Luchador the were-jaguar.”
“You could just bash it’s head in while it’s still asleep you know,” Lis suggested.
“That works.”
“Brick?” Lis asked, holding a hefty red foundation brick in her hand.
“Why thank you very much.”
“Quickly now before--”
The sound of restraints snapping and feral snarling drew both of our attentions to the altar. Sitting up, groggy, the were-jaguar’s hungry eyes fell on me.
Lis tsked. “Too late.”
“Story of my life. Get behind me.”
The jaguar leaped forth with a roar, eager to sink teeth into my tasty flesh. Thankfully, animal instincts can be predicted. Outwitted. By the time the creature’s claws reached me, I’d already swung the brick onto the side of its face. The force of the blow knocked the beast to the side with a deafening crack.
It was clumsy, probably unused to its new body. I might just have a chance to kill it without magic after all. Maybe it even had a glaring weakness that I could exploit long enough to get to my wand.
That reminds me.
As the were-jaguar writhed in pain from the brick blow, I reached into the back pocket of my khakis and withdrew a lone key chain. At the end of the chain hung a small well-worn lantern about large enough to fit in the palm of my hand. Sturdy, just large enough to accept birthday candles, it had more than just the appeal of a pretty trinket.
It had a soul. “Cho,” I called out. “Weaknesses. What do you see?”
“Can’t think on an empty stomach, Charles. Feed me,” Cho the Lantern of Weakness whined, the voice little more than a tiny whisper.
“I promise I’ll get you the largest candle that will fit. Help now or we’re both dead,” I replied, my fancy Hawaiian shirt torn with a swipe of the jaguar’s claw.
“Weakness… Fire. Magic too. Could turn it’s strength against it with--”
“I’m out of magic dammit! What else you got?”
“Unsteady legs?” Cho suggested.
“Perfect.”
I ducked down as the were-jaguar snapped for my throat and tackled it with all my strength. The rickety feet, more jaguar than Human, buckled under the pressure. I thought I’d have a chance to overpower it on the floor, but the ritual’s magic had greatly favored the upper body’s enhancement. I didn’t stand a chance. Blood dripped, teeth readied to tear out my throat. My wand dangled just out of reach.
Desperation time. As the jaguar dipped down to nab my throat, I shot my hands up, grabbed my wand at last, and poured all my magic into it. Fwoosh.
The jaguar looked surprise. A drip of blood fell from the were-jaguar’s neck. Then another. And more.
Estaban the man-beast gagged and choked weakly, rolling off me and clawing futilely at his own throat.
“I’ll see you in Hell,” I muttered, as Estaban breathed his last.
Cut in a thousand places, I became painfully aware that I was very certainly bleeding to death. Sure, I’d won, but at what cost? Footsteps approached. Lis loomed over me. It made me smile.
Yeah. I had a feeling she’d be here. At the end. First in line for the soul buffet I was about to become. Cho noticed her too.
“Greetings Lisistrathiel. Shogi rematch?” the lantern eagerly asked.
“Sure Cho, just gimme a sec to scold Charlie here.”
“Scold?” I asked.
Lis’ eyes narrowed, devilish lips tugged downwards. “It’s your own fault for getting turned into minced meat. I was more in the mood for soul filet mignon instead of soul hamburger.”
“I’m so sorry my manner of death is inconvenient for you. I should have asked your opinion before going off and dying however I pleased,” I said.
“See, even now you’re all smug and devil may care.”
“I want to die with my pride intact at least.”
Lis blinked, a look of surprise flitting over her features before a wicked grin split her face in half. Hellfire danced in her eyes.
“That gives me an idea,” she said.
“Isn’t it a little late to hit me with a trick?” I muttered, consciousness dwindling.
“Maybe.”
“There’s no maybe about it,” I retorted. “I’m going to bleed to death right here and right now.”
“Well, it does look pretty terminal, Charlie.”
“Yeah, it does. Hey, Lis. Will you sit with me?” I asked.
A strange look passed over the she-devil, before she wordlessly sat down next to me on the cold concrete.
“For your information, I’m pretty sure you won’t actually die here,” she said.
It hurt to laugh. “Even if you say you know anything about everything, not even you could have predicted something like this happening. The world is filled with chaos that defies prophecy. So don’t give me any false hope.”
“You’re absolutely right, Charlie,” Lis said. “Evil is unpredictable, chaotic and usually impossible to pin down. However--”
The heavy iron door suddenly blew off it’s hinges, crashing down onto the concrete at the bottom of the stairs.
“Charles? Oh no you’re bleeding!” Itabimori wailed, rushing to my side.
“--However,” Lis repeated, “You can really set a watch to people with enough goodness in their hearts.”
Chapter 13
Consciousness isn’t a switch that gets flipped on and off. It’s more like a rickety faucet, especially when you’ve lost enough blood. Wakefulness ebbed. Dream flowed. I remember being carried into a car. I remember bumps on the road. And I remember being dragged up flights of stairs.
I guess the elevator would have been too suspicious.
When I woke up, I was in my lavish vacation home. Alone? One look to the left of my king sized bed, however, proved me wrong.
Not quite alone. Itabimori was sitting in a chair right by my bed side. Her rear end was firmly planted in the seat, but her upper body lay sprawled over the bed. If I listened close, I could hear very soft snoring.
There’s no such thing as a perfect girl, but even with scaled legs, Itabimori’s charms were almost excessive. Her body was fit and impressively well formed. Her breasts were ample and perky, even mashed against my sheets as she snored face down. The real charm point though was her waist. Whatever the hell she did, she’d forged her hips into a weapon of the gods. Thick, toned, the waves of alternating red and black scales just below them only accentuated and drew more attention.
“I need a cold shower,” I declared aloud, and forced myself to sit up.
As I did, I noticed two things. Firstly, I was covered in pure agony. Particularly my chest and arms. Goddamn, why did they save me instead of putting me out of my misery? Secondly, I noticed that all the painful parts of my body had been carefully covered in bandages.
I turned to look back at the snoozing snake woman. “A very cold shower,” I muttered, and wobbled into the bathroom.
Light flicked on. Towel acquired. I lost my pants, then undressed the dressings. My wounds had closed up very nicely. Crap. Just how long have I been asleep? I cursed beneath my breath and turned on the shower. The shock of cold water made me feel alive. I turned my thoughts inward.
Things were getting out of hand. Usually missions involved one, tops two groups of trouble makers to sort out. So far I counted three for this one. Each with their own motivations and tactics.
Baron Ajay and the Mabinoy probably represented the most organized threat. Rich kids with magic almost on par with Nine Towers. They were playing for keeps and didn’t mind the thought of having to tally up body counts. After all, Xibalba might just be the thing that pushed them past even Nine Towers’ reach when it came to sheer magical might.
Antonio Tlatani, and his group of grass roots renegades were after the same thing. They were more ramshackle and disordered, but unlike the cold machinations of Mabinoy, they had the stink of zealotry about them. A cult of personality with Tlatani front row center. I could only imagine what he’d use all the stray magic in Xibalba for.
Worst of all was the Nagual himself. No tricks. No minions. Just one disgustingly talented mage with a chip on his shoulder and delusions of grandeur. He had my number and I bet he’ll be eager to punch it the second he hears I’m not dead.
And then there’s little old me.
“What a mess,” I mumbled to myself. “So many are playing for keeps and all I have to even things out is a goody two shoes semi-divine snake woman, a lantern of weakness, and my own half mangled carcass. Maybe Lis too if she’s in the mood.”
I soaped up. Gentle on the shoulders, harder on the chest, I let the suds trace my abs and drip down the drain. The bubbles swirled ominously into the dark abyss. I flexed, stretched out my legs, cracked my neck, and then grabbed the towel.
Opening the door, I wanted to go search for clothing to throw on before my savior woke up. Finding a half naked man prowling about muttering to himself might just be enough of a shock to make Itabimori shed her skin.
I wanted to do all that, but unfortunately I didn’t get much of a chance. The second I threw the door open, I found Itabimori standing on the other side, hand poised to knock.
“Uh,” she managed, her eyes trailing down my chest and to my abdominal muscles. Her breath caught. Her face turned tomato red.
“I need to get to the closet. You can check me out while I’m getting dressed.”
I already had my favorite pair of dress pants put on by the time she’d stuttered a response and regained her wits. Was I her type or something?
“So,” she began, awkwardly. “How are your wounds? Did any of them uh, you know, open when you took your shower?”
“None. How long have I been out?” I asked.
“Two and a half hours,” came the response.
I stopped mid shirt buttoning. Two and a half hours? “Bullshit. Wounds like these close in two and a half weeks and only if they were stitched shut or cauterized. There’s no way that…”
My eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“You don’t specialize in nature magic. Y
ou specialize in life magic,” I said. “You don’t command plants. You grow them. A healer.”
She blushed bright, but refused to avert her gaze.
“Itabimori, you saved my life,” I said. “Thank you.”
“But it’s my fault your life was in danger though,” Itabimori replied heatedly. “I should have stuck with you when we split. I should have followed that weird cult’s trail faster or--”
“Tabi,” I said, cutting her off.
As I took a half naked step towards her, her serpentine eyes grew wide and her breath caught in her throat.
“S-so. As an apology I found Narani and did a bit of leg work on your behalf,” Tabi said. “I got a hold of this while your chauffeur was watching over you.”
Taken from atop the wardrobe, Itabimori presented to me a long thin object wrapped up in black bandages. So this was the magic item Narani had planned to give me. As tempted as I was to open it up like a Christmas gift a thought nagged at the back of my head.
“Where is my ‘chauffeur’, anyways?” I asked Narani.
“Running errands, she said.”
I glowered at the news. That infernal pain in my ass left me alone with Itabimori on purpose.
“Here. It’s all yours,” Tabi mumbled.
I slowly removed the black bandages that had wrapped the item up. In the folds of the cloth was what looked like a ceremonial dagger. The pommel was made of bronze or shiny copper, but the blade itself looked like it was made of honest-to-god rubies.
“Narani said that this was an old exorcism tool used by high priests. Legend has it that we all have a piece of divinity in our hearts. This blade was made by forging those shards into a single edge.”
How many people had to die to make this thing, exactly? I almost asked.
“What exactly does it do?” I said instead.
“All Narani said is that it’s a mana blade.”
A grin spread across my lips. Even magical weapons like my wand-sword can’t directly affect the flow of magical power. Mana, Teotl, whatever you want to call it, can only be diverted, not destroyed. Except, of course, if you have a mana blade. In most cases this thing was just a fancy letter opener, but against summoners like Gelwer, elementals, and arcanists drenched in raw power? One papercut and their magic is completely drained.
Blood Hunt (Secret Magent Book 3) Page 5