Psychic Awakening: A Dragon Shifter LitRPG Harem Psychic Thriller (Primus Vitae Book 1)

by Terrance Thorndyke

  “No shit?” Wilburn wasn’t nearly so into the game as she was, but even he knew how hard it was to get the single use item that allowed a raid on the Fortress of Infinite Torment where even the average mob dropped platinum items.

  “No shit, throwback. Also got a new boyfriend and he doesn’t suck.”

  Wilburn had to laugh at that. ‘Not-sucking’ was about the highest honor Stacy ever bestowed upon anyone. “Good on you. Little surprised to hear you talking about it though. I thought you liked to keep your private life private. You told me to do something anatomically improbably the last time I asked after your dating life.” And that was the last time he’d ever made that mistake.

  “Yeah, well my not-sucking boyfriend, who’s more of my master really—we got one of those alternate lifestyle things going—wanted me to let you know.”

  Wilburn blinked. Alternate lifestyle things? He couldn’t imagine his cousin obeying anyone, let alone calling them ‘master.’ “Okay, who is this and what have you done with Stacy?”

  “Suck a cock,” she said. “Anyway, he’s here now and wants to talk to you.”

  There was some background noise, presumably of her removing and handing over her headset. When the new voice spoke through the microphone, Wilburn’s blood ran cold.

  “Hello nameless, houseless, scum,” Demetrius said. “Do I have your attention now?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wilburn hadn’t known that it was possible to get a plane ticket that fast. Bernard had known just what to do though and apparently didn’t mind spending Zuha’s money. Currency, it turned out, wasn’t something that most primuses put a lot of value in. At least not for its own sake. When he thought about it, that made a strange sort of sense. What was the point of hoarding wealth when you collected people whose own wealth essentially became yours? Or at least, that was the mindset as Wilburn understood it. He wasn’t sure he liked that, not at all, but for the moment it worked in his favor. Five first class plane tickets to Colorado Springs and a two hour wait through the security check in and Wilburn, Siobhan, Buddy, Belinda, and Bernard were all flying out to House Vespa.

  The four famulus had to come, per Demetrius’s terms of the duel. If Wilburn wanted his cousin, he would have to wager everyone under his command. Including Zuha, which was who Demetrius really wanted. Wilburn couldn’t understand why he was so focused on her. Yes, she was powerful and gorgeous, but he’d treated her like shit with that catnip trick and by her own admission she wasn’t very well received by the secret primus society as a fallen psion. Her own house barely tolerated her.

  Why was Demetrius obsessed enough to go and mind-jack his cousin? He supposed it didn’t really matter. The asshole was obsessed enough. He’d gone after her and had every advantage on his side. He’d even been able to name the stakes and stack them in his favor. The only famulus he would risk was Stacy.

  He claimed, however, that he wanted to ensure that everything was utterly fair, so the duel was to take place at House Vespa outside Colorado Springs, where it would be witnessed by representatives from Houses Lyra and Delphinus. It was all a load of bullshit. Wilburn didn’t expect Demetrius to play fair for an instant. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see any way around this. The bastard had bragged about what he was going to have Stacy doing.

  “How would her viewers like a live sex show next time she livestreams?” he’d asked. “It will be hard for her to narrate her gameplay with my cock in her mouth but I don’t think her fans will mind.”

  The complimentary bag of peanuts in Wilburn’s fist burst into flames at the memory, causing a frenzy of activity that took up most of the flight as attendants struggled to figure out what had happened. Only when he Suggested that they leave the whole thing alone, that it had been a freak accident, and that there was no need to worry about it, did they stop. And that was almost as freakish as the sudden explosion. Wilburn was making a conscious effort to speak as little as possible lest he dominate someone else. It was bad enough that Belinda and Bernard were on the chopping block because of him, worse still that the siblings were too. If anyone else was added by accident he thought he might be sick.

  Try as he might, he couldn’t think of a way out of this. Demetrius was unreasonable and untrustworthy and Wilburn too ignorant of the laws and rules that governed the world primuses lived in. There was only one course of action. To meet Demetrius head on and with overwhelming force. And that, Wilburn had in abundance. More to the point, Demetrius had no idea just how powerful he was.

  The only problem was that neither did Wilburn. Sure, he knew he’d leveled up, but he had no real measure of what that entailed. He needed to return to his mind palace. After what had happened last time it was the very last thing he wanted to do. He’d just about convinced himself that it would be safer for everyone if he didn’t go back, if he took on Wilburn as he was, but the exploding bag of peanuts convinced him otherwise. He was powerful now, but out of control, with no real idea of the limits of his capabilities.

  So, with no small amount of reluctance and his stomach clenching in fear, he lay back in his seat, closed his eyes, and envisioned his mind palace.

  It was a fortress.

  The nearly cartoonish quality of the castle had vanished entirely and in its place were thick, high walls with spiked battlements and a forest of spires like something out of Lord of the Rings. How had all of this fit here? How had it become so much more….more? It was only vaguely recognizable as the place that it had been before.

  “It’s good that you acquired new famulus,” said the two voices behind him. “They stabilized you. Helped you find some equilibrium with the small power their binding offered.”

  The air was different. Not thinner, exactly, but almost drier. Like going from standing in the midst of a humid swamp to an arid desert, only less unpleasant. The energy, the experiences that had permeated the atmosphere were no longer present.

  “Did I spend all of the experience you gave me?” he asked.

  “Almost,” the voices answered. “You would have been very powerful on your own had you been extolled when you entered puberty and made a proper primus. We knew this. We did not expect that losing your virginity would open the pathway nearly so much. It was…like adding rocket fuel to the engine.”

  Wilburn swallowed. “So, boom, huh?”

  “Essentially. You very nearly razed your mind to ashes. If you had not reached out to your virga and your famulus, you would have become a vegetable, losing all of your higher functions.”

  By the time the voices were finished speaking, Wilburn’s hands were shaking. “Yeah, let’s not ever do that again.”

  “You could not, even if you wanted to,” the voices said. “No one has ever had access to so many experiences at once to pour into the spending. Now all that remains of our gift to you is a bare trickle. That, and your own experiences and those of your new famulus. A not insignificant amount but much more manageable.”

  From behind he felt two pairs of invisible arms embracing him. Felt two faces press themselves into his back. “We are very glad that you are unharmed. We would never have forgiven ourselves if you had been broken because of our mistake.”

  Awkwardly, Wilburn tried to pat the areas where he felt the unseen hands in what he hoped was a comforting manner. As his own hands couldn’t actually feel anything there besides himself, however, he wasn’t sure how well this worked. “It’s okay. Hurt like hell but I came through it. This place…it’s a lot more impressive now.”

  “Yes,” the voices murmured into his back. “Yes, it is.”

  “I think I need to spend the rest of my experiences,” he said, almost hesitantly.

  “It is very soon,” the voices said. “You are still raw, still growing.”

  “Yeah, and I keep accidentally using my abilities,” he said. “I need some control, otherwise every time I open my mouth someone’s going to be bound to me or whenever I get made, something will blow up. And…and I need eve
rything to beat Demetrius.”

  “You need a name to defeat Demetrius,” the voices said.

  “I have a name,” Wilburn said.

  “No, a primus name.”

  “Okay, how do I get one?” he said. “Do I just pick it out or what?”

  The voices didn’t answer.

  “Uh, voices?” he asked.

  “We do not know how you will get yours,” they answered. “We know much, but no one knows how each primus finds their name. Until you have yours, wielding your abilities against Demetrius will be like…wielding a sword with a greased hilt. Slippery. Unwieldy.”

  “I don’t see that I have much choice,” he said.

  “You should meditate on this,” the voices said.

  Fury welled up inside of him. “My cousin is that bastard’s victim and you want me to meditate? You don’t even know if that will do any good. No. If I’m going to be doing something I’m going to be doing something useful, that I know will yield results. We’re going to divide the rest of my experiences up amongst the Towers that constellation up there gives me a bonus to.”

  The voices were quiet for a moment. “As you wish.”

  He dug the experiences up, drew them from his mind palace like water siphoned from a well, and poured them into his towers. Doors opened, rooms expanded, becoming more elaborate. It hurt, like chewing nuts with a sore tooth. The more experiences he spent, the worse it felt. He pushed forward until three towers rose above the others, titans among giants, and he had nothing left to spend.

  “Find your name,” the voices said when he was finished. “Or it won’t matter how powerful your abilities are.”

  He opened his eyes. His forehead was beaded with sweat and Siobhan was wiping his brow with a napkin. She looked concerned.

  “You were moaning in your sleep,” she said.

  “I wasn’t sleeping,” he said.

  “Right.” She gave him a small grin. “You were just resting your eyes.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry. You’re in this mess because of me.”

  She shrugged. “It’s okay. You need our help for this. I can’t speak for my brother but I’m just happy to be useful.”

  “Even if you’re at risk because of me?”

  Her grin turned wicked. “We’re only at risk if there’s a chance of you losing whatever this duel-thing is. So, don’t let that happen.”

  He laughed. “Okay. No losing.”

  It hadn’t been an option anyway.

  They landed soon after and were met at the gate by a trio of powerful looking men in black suits. Wilburn knew they were there for him because they held up a sign that said “Welcome Houseless” that had several people giving them second glances.

  No one in the group had brought anything besides a carryon and so they were quickly ushered out of the airport and to a black stretch limo, which had both Buddy and Siobhan bouncing around inside of it like little kids in short order.

  “They’ve even got champagne on ice,” Buddy exclaimed.

  Wilburn’s stomach was too tied in knots to appreciate it.

  One of the suited men had gotten into the back of the limo with them. He spoke up when Wilburn didn’t. “I assure you on the honor of House Vespa that it is not poisoned.”

  Nobody had any champagne after that and the mood became somber.

  Sometime later, long after they’d left Colorado Springs behind, they pulled off the featureless road and onto a stretch of driveway that ended at a wrought iron gate with a pair of guards dressed in fatigues and body armor and armed with automatic rifles, each with a burly Rottweiler at his flank. The gates attached to a cement wall topped with curls of razor wire that went prevented anyone from getting a good look inside.

  Wilburn readied himself to draw upon his abilities. He wasn’t sure what good they might be against rifles and attack dogs but this place looked like a prison. He could just imagine Demetrius setting them up to arrive somewhere and be executed without warning.

  The guards nodded to the men in suits and the gates swung open, revealing a second wall with a driveway that they had to use to circle around to a second, more heavily reinforced gate with a second pair of guards and dogs. This time when they were allowed through, everyone in the car gasped.

  The walls surrounded a mansion so luxurious it made the one Zuha had been staying in look like a Motel 6. Easily five stories tall, it was surrounded by an ornate garden with fountains, exotic plants, and statues. It would have been even more breathtaking if each corner of the house hadn’t been topped with some seriously big ass guns on swivel mounts decorated with chains of ammunition, most of which were trained on Wilburn and his group as they stepped out of the limo.

  Marble steps led up to the front door where an elegantly dressed man and woman waited, smiling down at the group with assured confidence that everything here was under their direct control.

  “Mr. Wilburn Graves,” the man said as Wilburn approached. He extended his hand and Wilburn shook it, meeting his eyes. This made the man grin.

  “Lemuel Ingram,” the man said by way of introduction, then gestured to his wife. “And this is my wife, Demeter Ingram. Welcome to House Vespa.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Demetrius had instructed Wilburn to meet him at House Vespa so that they could engage in a duel, Wilburn had not expected to be treated to a five-course meal first. Formal wear had been provided and custom tailored after his arrival by one of the Ingram’s famulus. The man worked fast, attending to Wilburn in the guest suite he had been escorted to. His own famulus stood around watching and offering their opinions as he was tried and fitted for a black, cashmere suit. They had been provided their own shared quarters in a different part of the house, but none of them, Wilburn included, had wanted to be separated while they were on enemy territory. Unfortunately, the dinner was for primus only.

  When Wilburn arrived in the dining hall, he found both Lemuel and Demeter Ingram seated at the table as expected, along with Demetrius and two other individuals Wilburn hadn’t met. One was an olive-skinned woman with dark eyes, coifed hair, and wearing a blue dress. The other a giant Haitian man with small eyes that gleamed with fierce intelligence. Both looked to be in their late thirties or early forties, about the same age as the Ingrams.

  “Wilburn,” said Lemuel at his arrival without standing up from his seat at the head of the table. “Allow me to introduce to you Myrtle Flores of House Delphinus and Maxwell Durand of House Lyra. They are here to bear witness to your duel with my son and ensure fair play on all sides.”

  Wilburn gave Myrtle and Maxwell a more thorough look over as they did the same to him. Neither seemed particularly impressed with him. That was fair enough. He wasn’t sure that he was impressed with them either.

  “You’re here to referee?” Wilburn asked.

  Myrtle’s mouth tightened and Maxwell’s eyebrows went up.

  “Essentially,” said the big man, in a surprisingly soft voice.

  “Right, so kidnapping doesn’t count as breaking the rules then?”

  The air of feigned pleasantness over the table evaporated. Demetrius started to rise but Maxwell raised his hand, forestalling the younger primus with a simple, “May I field this?”

  With visible reluctance, Demetrius nodded and made a gesture for Maxwell to continue.

  Rather than moving to squarely face Wilburn, the man settled into his seat more comfortably, like a grandfather getting ready to read a story to the children gathered around his feet. “Your cousin, the girl you are here to fight for, was an unclaimed imus. Binding her was in no way a breach of our laws. If you had wanted her, you should have bound her yourself.”

  “She should be free,” Wilburn said, fighting to keep his temper from flaring up. “She should not be bound to anyone.”

  Myrtle gave a piercing laugh. “Don’t be preposterous. Binding requires Suggestion and Suggestion is just that. Just because Demetri
us is adroit in the use of Domination does not mean the girl did not consent to his binding. Besides, she’s imus. Only primuses can be said to truly be free.”

  Wilburn ground his teeth together to keep from saying that he’d bound two people without ever talking to them. Nothing good could come from tipping his hand about his abilities. Either they wouldn’t believe him, or if they did, it might break one of their laws or let Demetrius plan some kind of counter. He didn’t know enough.

  Maxwell’s small eyes rolled over to take him in. He seemed to be having some deep thoughts. Whatever they were, he gave a small cough a moment later, and said, “You have no idea the honor being presented to you now, do you? A Houseless allowed the opportunity to duel a psion? If Demetrius did not have such a sense of fair play, he could just take your virga and famulus from you. There are none who would come to your defense.”

  “I still don’t believe he’s a magis,” Myrtle said, taking a sip of wine. “Where is his virga, anyway? It’s always some pretty little twit these young men fight over.”

  “Where’s my cousin?” Wilburn asked. Honors be damned. He didn’t care about this secret society, he cared about getting Stacy back safely and not letting Zuha or any of his famulus end up under the thumb of this arrogant ass. Sense of fair play? What did any of these people, psychics and mind controllers, understand about fair play?

  A little voice inside of him warned that he was running the risk of being a hypocrite now that he’d joined their ranks and bound famulus of his own. He crushed that voice down flat. Their worldview, what little he could piece together of it, was totally askew. If he was understanding what they were saying about him being Houseless, then the real reason the Houses existed was to defend against one another. Might made right. He supposed that when you were more powerful than the vast majority of the world’s population that idea might be very appealing.

  “Where’s Zuha?” Demetrius countered, ripping Wilburn from his epiphany and back to the present.