Afterworld (The Orion Rezner Chronicles Book 1)

by Ploof, Michael James

“What’s that, Dude? Who was she? Oh, just a smoking hot witch who I’m pretty sure is into me. What’s that, Dude? Did I put on the moves? No, I acted like an asshole instead.”

  A woman a few tables down gathered her things, threw me a wary glance, and moved to the other end of the library.

  “I’m such a moron,” I told him.

  He yawned.

  Having lost my study mojo, I gathered up my stack of books and checked my pocket watch—12:30 a.m. Mushiro hadn’t shown. He was probably at the pub.

  Me and Dude hopped on our scooter and headed to Fracco’s Bar. Whether Mushiro was there or not, they still had beer.

  We pulled up to the pub ten minutes later—Mushi’s scooter was parked next to a badass-looking Harley. Dude led the way inside, and Stevie Ray Vaughn was playing on the juke. I couldn’t help but play air guitar after Stevie’s soulful proclamation, “The sky is cryin’.” I twanged out the first three notes of the lead there in the doorway. I must have looked cooler than shit. I began walking forward with my eyes held tight as I strummed out awesomeness on the side of my leg.

  Somebody punched me in the face.

  I awoke to Mushi slapping me on the cheek.

  “Holy shit, Rez! He’s pissed. Get your ass out of here fast!”

  “Whoth pithed?” The room was still spinning.

  Mushi was pushed aside, and Kronos loomed over me like a mountain. “That was for not following orders. Now you stand. We settle this, gentleman like.” He took off his huge fur coat of many tails and tossed it on the nearest table, then rolled up his sleeves and spat in his hands.

  Holy shit, he’s serious.

  I whispered a spell as I tried to get up. Nothing happened. I tried again—no good. I was slurring my words. Frustrated, and staggering like a drunkard, I stood up against the wall and said the words in my mind…but fell to the floor again while Kronos waited patiently. Mental casting still eluded me.

  I dug deep and said the words clearly. A wave of energy washed over me, and my mind cleared instantly. I stood on steady legs and glared at my master.

  He laughed. “You use most powerful preservation spell after one punch? I’m ashamed to call you student!”

  He was right. I had used my most powerful revival spell way too early. If this turned out to be a real fight, I had just played my best card. The only things I had that would be of any use against Kronos were lightning, magnetism, and wind. I recited my wind spell and focused, letting it build like a boiling teapot. I didn’t have a spell book to guide my casting and ensure the incantation worked perfectly, but wind was wind; there wasn’t a lot of control needed for what I wanted to do.

  Kronos sniffed at the air and glanced around. With a sneer he said, “You dare cast wind against master wizard?”

  God, I hate this guy.

  The dozen or so patrons stood glued to the walls or sunk low in the chairs. Some I knew, but all knew Kronos it seemed, or maybe it was just because of his magical…vibe. His wrath electrified the air.

  “Nobody’s casting anything in here,” said Fracco. He had come out from behind the bar.

  Kronos ignored him. He lifted his fists and rolled his shoulders. “Come, Rezner. We settle this once for all.”

  I was happy to comply. The power of my spell rejuvenated my mind and body, and my anger from leaving the kids sent me over the top. I came on fast with a double-fisted punch. Kronos’s huge forearms stopped my strike dead. I ducked under a backhand and hit him with an uppercut that thudded against his ribs—I may as well have punched a bull. He picked me up by the shirt and pants and threw me ten feet, slamming me against the wall. Under the effects of my spell, my body took the punishment like a champ. I rebounded quickly as Kronos came on, tossing tables and chairs out of the way like Goliath.

  The spell I had prepared was fresh on my mind. I dug deep and lashed out with my right hand as I bellowed the wind incantation.

  I tried to finish—I needed only to release the spell—but no words came out. I tried again, but couldn’t speak. I looked down at my hand, dumbfounded.

  Kronos laughed and blasted me with his prepared counter spell. A gust of wind tore through the bar and slammed me up against the wall. The gale held me in place. I had to turn my head to be able to breathe, as napkins, papers, salt and pepper shakers—just about everything not nailed down—started crashing against the wall around me.

  “You will learn your place, Rezner!”

  “Master Wizard Kronos!” Fracco yelled in a growling voice that drowned out the wind. The fireplace flared and the lights grew dim, and his shadow seemed to be that of a grizzly bear as it loomed on the wall.

  The winds subsided and Kronos lowered his hand. I slid down the wall and landed among the debris.

  “Get out of my establishment,” Paul said, calmly.

  Kronos seemed to sober, realizing what he had done. He turned to Fracco and looked him over with a sneer. A glance back to me promised pain. Finally, and without a word, he left.

  Mushiro and Paul helped me up, and I finally found my voice. “What the hell was that all about?” I asked.

  “That was one pissed-off Russian!” said Mushi.

  I ignored him, wondering if I’d really seen what I thought I had in Paul’s shadow.

  I watched the pub’s slightly mysterious proprietor return behind the bar as if nothing had happened.

  “You’re welcome.” Melody’s voice came from behind me.

  I turned to find her grinning. “You? Why?”

  She walked up and dusted off my shoulder. “You know how much shit you would be in if you cast against a master wizard…in public?”

  Oh yeah, kind of forgot about that.

  “Now he is the one who will be in big shit. You’re welcome.”

  “What did you do?”

  She handed me a beer. It was a Sam Adams Summer Ale.

  Is this chick for real?

  “I knew you were going to do something stupid, so I hexed your voice.” She tipped back her beer, and I joined her.

  We both turned to the side—Mushiro and Dude were staring at us.

  “What?” we said in unison.

  “You guys are cute couple,” said Johnny. He was sitting on the other side of her, beaming, and then leaned in as if she were his new confidant. “He could use good woman. You think with devilish good looks he’d be beating them off with stick, instead he just beating o—”

  “Mushi!” I said, jumping in, “Dude is listening.”

  Johnny looked dumbfounded. “What? You mean the chicken-choking-champion of chimps? Why do you think he wants his teddy bear all the time?”

  “Ewww,” said Melody.

  “Mushi, shut up, man.” I laughed nervously and turned back to her. “Sorry about him.”

  Melody smiled. “What do you drink, Mushiro?”

  I couldn’t help but stare at her neck when she turned to him. Beneath the tight leather jacket she wore a low-cut shirt which showed just enough…

  “Sound good to you?” she asked, whirling on me.

  My guilty eyes stuttered around her face, trying to find her eyes. “Sorry, huh?”

  “A shot of whiskey?”

  Behind her, Mushiro grinned like a devil.

  I looked at Paul. “Sure, as long as Fracco’s got the good stuff.”

  Paul Fracco threw a towel over his shoulder and leaned on the bar. His face said, Now lemme tell you something about good whiskey. “Listen.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t sell none of that cheap shit.”

  “You don’t sell any,” I said, correcting him.

  He considered this for a moment. “I don’t barter none of that cheap shit.”

  “All right then,” I said. “Join us for a round?”

  He turned from the bar and reached for a bottle. “If you insist.”

  “So,” I asked, “what was with the shadow on the wall when you broke up the fight?”

  He stopped for the slightest of moments before returning to his fluid motion.

&n
bsp; “I didn’t see a shadow. Like you said,” he put the drinks on the bar, “I was busy breaking up a fight.”

  “I could have sworn that your shadow looked like a b—”

  “Tell you what, these are on the house.” He smiled and raised his glass.

  We lifted ours as well.

  “To the newest graduates of Harvard Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he toasted. “May you keep Boston safe from those who lurk in the shadows.”

  We didn’t leave Fracco’s till the wee hours that night. Once again I was forced to let Dude drive. I know what Old Ben would have said, and I was drinking too much, but if the drink was for drowning care, as he put it, I could use all I could get.

  I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, the faces of each of the Cain children fresh in my mind. They had looked so happy when they thought help had arrived. To see those faces turned to fear…there was no loud bar music to distract me from their pleading any longer. Stuck in the silence of my apartment, I slowly went mad.

  I stood upon a peak of a high ridge. Down in the desert valley below, voices cried out in the night as fires raged. Strange-looking buildings crumbled, and majestic, spiraling towers fell. No enemy attacked from any side…the city seemed to be tearing itself apart.

  “Such strange creatures you are.”

  I turned.

  Azazel stood beside me, taking in the show.

  “This is a dream,” I told myself.

  Azazel nodded. “A dream of a memory…a memory of a dream.”

  A hot wind blew back my hair and burned my nostrils. The pungent smell of sulfur came with the heat. This was no dream. Somehow Azazel had found me.

  “It was quite easy,” he said, with a quick, distracted, sideways glance. He seemed unable to take his attention off the destruction being wrought and the screams of the poor souls within.

  “They were given a choice…and they chose wrong. This seems to be a flaw you all share,” he mused.

  “What do you want with me?”

  “I want to help you.”

  “Said the demon.” I laughed. “Piss off.”

  “Demon?” he scoffed. “Your ancestors called me a god.”

  “What are you doing with the children of the Cain?”

  “Saving them, of course.”

  It was my turn to scoff. “You’re the one who corrupted mankind. Am I supposed to believe you?”

  He turned to regard me with eyes of the clearest blue. His face was not that of a monster, but neither was it a man’s. “One cannot debase that which is already corrupt. Your kind have ever been eager to commit sin. It is in the heart of every man.”

  “People are corrupted by their leaders, who are corrupted by power.”

  “Who are your leaders? Are they corrupt? To leave children to die like that…” He clucked his tongue.

  I said nothing.

  “I have your sister,” he told me.

  I stared into his eyes and saw no deceit, but then again, he was a powerful demon.

  “I’m waking up now,” I said, as if bored, trying not to show how his words had affected me.

  “She is well. She misses you—”

  “Shut your goddamned mouth!”

  “Would you like to see her?”

  What kind of game was he playing? What was the point? I knew he was lying, but…“If I say I want to see her, you will only show me an illusion.”

  “Then go to her. See for yourself. You can be reunited.”

  I didn’t want to play along with this, but if he really had Mary…“Where is she?”

  “Leave the city and I’ll guide you to her.”

  A screeching ape tore me from the dream, and I bolted upright in a cold sweat, looking around frantically.

  Leave the city and I’ll guide you to her.

  Azazel’s words echoed in my mind. Had it been a dream?

  Dude screeched again, ran into the room, and jumped on my chest.

  “Come on, bro, it’s early.”

  I checked my pocket watch—10:00 a.m.

  Shit!

  Chapter 14

  Benched

  Mushi had said the council wanted to see me at nine o’clock. I threw on last night’s clothes, and in five minutes, Dude and I were cruising to the Temple of Light.

  I signed in and hurried to the big wooden doors. I took the stairs to the fifth floor two at a time and paused before the white door to catch my breath. When I had composed myself, I knocked once. A small panel about three feet from the floor opened up, and beady eyes regarded me through the slot.

  “Please wait for the council, apprentice Rezner,” said Croc.

  Apprentice?

  I was in more trouble than I thought. I sat down with Dude on the Victorian bench set off to the side and waited. After what seemed like forever, the big white door opened, and Croc began the long rambling that led me to the council. Kronos sat off to the side, as before, and glowered at me as we approached.

  Maximillian, the head elder wizard, regarded me over his spectacles and chewed his cud—he had lost all his teeth long ago. “Orion Rezner,” he read from a scroll—as if I hadn’t just been there a few days ago. “Master Wizard Kronos has informed us that you disobeyed a direct order while on the Crystal Lake mission.”

  “Yeah? Did he also tell you that he cast a wind spell against me last night in a crowded bar?” I gave Kronos my best stink eye and he exploded.

  “Have some respect for council, little shit! Elder wizards do not answer to you!”

  “You guys are taking this madman’s word on things?” I asked.

  “We are aware of your disagreement last night. Now, please answer the charges,” said Maximillian, too calmly.

  “Yes, I disobeyed the order—an order to leave behind innocent children.”

  Maximillian raised his eyebrows and looked over the scroll carefully. “Nothing here of innocent children. The reports say a group of Cain children were encountered. Are these the children to which you refer?”

  “Yes.” He knew damn well what I meant, but in the face of such an obvious wrong, they were forced to delude themselves.

  “So…you admit to disobeying Master Wizard Kronos’s order, are you aware you were on a probationary period?”

  “I am.”

  Maximillian conferred shortly with the council member to his right, Elder Wizard Crowly. The man looked at me as if I were a strange specimen. I couldn’t hear what was said, but I didn’t have to. It was pretty clear what was going on.

  “Orion Rezner.” Maximillian’s voice carried the weight of judgment. “You are hereby suspended from any and all wizardly activities until such time as this council sees fit to reinstate your title. If caught using magic during this time, you will be punished accordingly. You not only disobeyed your master, but the will of the council and the city of Boston as well. The Cain children are potentially dangerous. We do not know what sickness they might still carry. We do not dictate such laws because we are uncaring, young man, but because it is necessary. The survival of the human race is in grave peril. We know of only a handful of other Witness colonies. We cannot allow anyone into this city who might pose a threat to the people’s safety. We hope you come to understand. Perhaps you might reflect on the subject during your suspension. You are dismissed.”

  I knew better than to bother arguing with them.

  “C’mon, Dude,” I said, turning to leave.

  “The chimp stays. He will be returned to Harvard for the time being,” said Maximillian.

  My anger flared and I whirled around in shock. “This has nothing to do with Dude.”

  “Indeed, the chimp has been trained in reconnaissance. You have been suspended, not he. The Boston Militia still has use for him.”

  Dude followed the conversation like a child watching their parents fight. When Maximillian finished speaking, the poor chimp gazed up at me helplessly.

  “It’s not my call, Dude. Be good, all right?”

  He whimpered and reached for
my hand. I wasn’t about to get teary in front of the Wizard Council, so I pulled my hand away and quickly marched out of there. Behind me followed a screech of my betrayal. The council could try to keep him at Harvard, but I had an idea he would give them trouble every step of the way. He would probably wind up at the apartment tonight.

  I told myself that—I told myself a lot of things.

  No magic.

  I’d been using magic for only two years, but I already missed it. It would be hard to not instinctively use it. Thinking about it as I left, I realized that I used magic far more than I thought—little things mostly, like lighting a candle, or stoking a quick cook fire. I also realized how lazy it had made me. I wasn’t as bad as some wizards, who used magic for the most menial of tasks, like floating something they had dropped back into their hand rather than bending to pick it up.

  I felt naked without my magic. Boston was a fairly safe place, but now I had Azazel after me. And while I was pretty sure he couldn’t get through the spell shield physically, he had somehow come to me in my sleep. I needed magic now more than ever. The council knew this. Why would they leave me so vulnerable in the face of such danger?

  I had once been annoyed—back before I’d mastered a few simple incantations—when I had to constantly read from my spell book to perform incantations. I have often thought how great it would be to tattoo intricate spells on my arms and just be able to rattle them off, one after another, without the hindrance of a bulky spell book.

  Unfortunately, only spell scribes—starchildren—can record spells. It is for this reason that they are hunted so. Magic still existed without them, but only in the form of mental casting, which made it that much harder for practitioners to train apprentices. Written spells are easier to control, more predictable for beginners. Mental casting, on the other hand, is often disastrous. Without perfect translation, inflection, focus, and intent, even a recited spell can easily go awry. At Harvard, apprentices were forbidden to attempt mental casting due to the inherent dangers and unpredictability of the art. One wrong inflection can change a simple water spell into a blazing inferno. Wizards like Kronos and the elders rarely use spell books, having mastered the art long ago. When mentally casting, the practitioner may be using a spell from memory, or even creating a new one altogether. Depending upon their understanding of the domain they are manipulating and their understanding of the language of magic, well-trained wizards can do amazing things. The art is a lot like cooking. A great chef can create a delicious meal without the use of a recipe book, given their knowledge and experience. But a beginner needs the recipe to get it right, and even then it’s easy to screw up.