Resurrection

by Ryan Attard

  IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU HAVE RETAINED YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR, ERIK ASHENDALE.

  As it spoke, the dragon shrunk, becoming the size of Boeing aircraft. The pressure coming from it lessened and after several heaves and false starts, I managed to speak.

  “You know me?”

  The dragon kept shrinking as it chuckled. The sweet note of its laugh was enough to almost make me break down in tears.

  OF COURSE. I KNOW MUCH ABOUT MOST, BUT FEW I’VE HAD THE PLEASURE OF CALLING FRIENDS.

  As the dragon kept shrinking, I watched as it took on a more-or-less human shape, becoming more and more familiar.

  But that wasn’t what clicked in my head.

  Friends—it had called us friends.

  And there was only one friend of mine that could pull off something like this.

  Sun Tzu smiled his serene smile and extended his hand towards me.

  “I am so happy to see you again, my friend.”

  Chapter 9

  The first thing I did was break down in tears. I just stood there, on that floating golden cloud, and sobbed my eyes out. Sun Tzu’s smile never left, and he patiently held his hand out.

  I reached out, shook it, and was suddenly pulled in an embrace.

  I cried some more, and we stood there—man and deity—hugging and crying. Warmth came out of him, comforting and soothing, like sitting in front of a fireplace during a cold winter night. Gone was the majestic, overwhelming power he had exhibited mere seconds ago—now he was just an embodiment of love. I felt it going through me, and for a moment I forgot all the torment I had gone through up until this point. From him emerged the sort of love you could bask in for eternity; a mother’s hug, a lover’s smile, a friend’s conspiratorial grin, a child’s giggle. A thousand of these moments became my very existence and, yes, I wanted to let go of everything and live in that love.

  But this was not my reality. This was not Erik Ashendale’s life, and it would never be.

  I have no idea how I leaned back up from Sun Tzu’s embrace, but I did, and once again I faced the wizened Chinese man.

  Sun Tzu looked as frail as he did in the noodle shop he owned, where I saw him most of the time. He wore his faded sapphire robes. His beard was grey, the color of thunderclouds, but I caught glints of gold streaking through it. His eyes were of a similar grey color and radiated power and majesty.

  “You’re here,” I said.

  I didn’t bother asking why or how. Sun Tzu would not give me a straight answer, but I had long theorized that this guy was some kind of godly avatar. An aspect of God.

  Yes, with a big G.

  And I was looking at one of Its aspects. Something as all-consuming and omnipotent as God, could not possibly exist in a single being—rather it likely had to manifest itself in a dozen different avatars, each representing a portion of Its powers and identity.

  But now I knew Sun Tzu was part of God. I had read enough of the Bible to know who, or what, “Eli” was.

  For a second, I considered kneeling or bowing. But Sun Tzu seemed to read my mind—he probably could—and grinned.

  “Please do not assume anything, Erik,” he said. “I’m not exactly who you think I am.”

  “You’re Sun Tzu,” I said, instantly feeling stupid.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re an aspect of God, aren’t you?” I pressed. “Like, the God?”

  He nodded. “I am.” He smiled. “I think.” At my confused look, he shrugged. “I am… rather complicated.”

  “You don’t say.”

  Sun Tzu chuckled. “It is good to see you again, old friend.”

  “You’ve got excellent timing, lemme tell ya,” I said. “Samael was about to cut me down.”

  “Hush,” he said. “Do not name the Angel of Death, lest he returns. Poor child was just doing what he always does.”

  I blinked.

  Hang on. Did this guy just call Samael, the Angel of Death, the Grim Reaper himself, “poor child”?

  Make a mental note, Erik: start tipping this guy way better. You know, if you ever make it back to the land of the living.

  “So what now?” I asked. “Is it Heaven or Hell for me?”

  Sun Tzu cocked his head. “Pardon me?”

  “Death,” I said. “The afterlife. Where do I go from now?”

  “Why, you go back, of course.”

  And the world shifted.

  Lush green hills spanned as far as the eye could see. A river of crystalline water ran below me, its rush like a soothing melody that washed away doubts and insecurities, leaving behind peace and serenity. A modest forest of trees populated a clearing, giving way to a small pond. Water from the river ran through it from a small incline until it stopped in a pond constructed of bleached white rocks.

  I looked to my right, towards the highest hill. Light glinted from the summit. Without realizing it, my legs began their march towards the hill, and soon I was upon it.

  The crystal monument was dedicated to Tenzin, my teacher and surrogate father. The only honest, trustworthy person I had known for a very long time. Tenzin had been my only beacon of hope when I was a kid, out on my own, alone and scared.

  I closed my eyes. The magic in this place was familiar.

  “Why are we here?” I asked.

  I opened my eyes and saw Sun Tzu standing reverently next to me, eyes on the monument. He muttered something in his native tongue and bowed his head, ever so slightly.

  That got to me.

  Why was a god showing respect to a mere mortal?

  Sun Tzu glanced at me, disapproving. “Because without the good deeds of mankind, the work of gods is made obsolete.”

  Well, shit, Erik.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  Sun Tzu’s expression softened. “We are here because I want you to see what your love yielded,” he said. “You have spent your life fighting, destroying evil wherever you encountered it. But there is so much more to you. This pocket universe—this inheritance you got from your master—was once a seedling, barely a speck of power. Look upon it now.” His gaze was powerful and disarming. “This is what the power of love yields. Life.”

  “And that’s why I have to go back, don’t I?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  I exhaled. “I’m ready.”

  “I know you are,” Sun Tzu said. “You are needed. But you must remember this place, Erik. Remember what love can do.”

  I nodded and remained silent. This explained why he had brought me here. This place was a pause to the torment, a break in the fight. This was a moment of peaceful light before I was plunged back into the darkness.

  “I’ll save them,” I heard myself saying. “Abi, Jack, Amaymon, Gil, all of them. I’ll save them.”

  “Yes.” Then he lowered his head. “But first, I must admit something to you, my friend. There is an ulterior motive why I chose to bring you here.”

  I looked at him. “Tell me.”

  He locked eyes with me. “You must fix my error,” he said. “I trained Abigale for a while. And I have failed.”

  “I heard about that,” I said. Then, because I was more than a little freaked out, I jokingly added, “Was the cat mask your idea?”

  Sun Tzu shook his head, solemn.

  “No. When she came to me, your apprentice was broken, full of misguided hope. She had isolated herself to only focus on her studies of warfare and magic. She came to me, and I indulged her, much like I did with you all those years ago.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Her inner turmoil turned her feral and dark,” Sun Tzu said.

  “As did mine,” I shot back. “And you helped me come out of it, if I remember correctly. Why couldn’t you do the same for her?”

  “Because you had him,” Sun Tzu said, pointing at the crystal memorial. “You had a beacon of light in your life that kept you from becoming the worst version of yourself. Abigale had just lost her Tenzin, Erik.”

  Ever had a sentence hit you like a punch
in the gut? Because that one certainly did.

  All this time I was worried about everything else: Greede, the Black Ring Society, the Seven Deadly Sins, Gil’s inside traitor, my curse, the Grigori. It never occurred to me to look at how I was affecting my own allies.

  I could see them now in hindsight, all of my friends and students, looking towards me for a plan of action. Looking to me for answers and help.

  The exact same thing I did with Tenzin.

  “Goddammit,” I swore, uncaring that I was actually doing it in front of God himself.

  Sun Tzu didn’t seem to care. He placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “Bring her back to life, Erik,” he said. His hand glowed bright and gold and I felt something electrify my whole body. “Bring her back, much in the same way that Tenzin brought you back.”

  I nodded. No need for words. He knew I would.

  “Now go, my friend,” he said. I felt his power wash over me. “Take my gift, and live.”

  Golden light erupted from my chest and spilled over my entire body. Power flowed like a torrent, ripping through me. Every molecule in my body flared with pure, raw magic.

  And then I came back to life.

  Chapter 10

  Well, not really.

  I was back on Earth, but still a ghost.

  Thankfully, my surroundings looked familiar. I was in my basement, right in front of the wall with a large sigil that acted as a portal to Tenzin’s pocket universe.

  Instantly, I looked at my body. I was still a ghost, as I said, but through Limbo I could see a little vein of golden light running through my body.

  Sun Tzu’s gift. As usual he refrained from giving me a how-to manual, which meant it was up to me to find out exactly what the hell he had done to me.

  Once again I had no idea how much time had passed. Like I said, space and time don’t really matter in the big picture. Tell that to your jackass of a boss next time they tell you you’re late.

  I knew it was night. My eyes still worked, but more importantly I could feel it. Night and day, specifically dawn and dusk, the periods where the sun rises and sets, are significant to magic. Energy, in whatever form it comes in, is cyclical. To a ghost, night feels right. It felt like I belonged here, that I was at home.

  But there was something else, something that pertained to me personally.

  I had felt Abi’s changes to the aura of this place. Her sadness, her raging emotions, had tainted this place, making it darker, gloomier. To a ghost, that’s like catnip.

  And besides, this was my home. This place was as much a part of me as my own name. That kind of power never goes away, not really. That’s the difference between a house and a home—a home has an identity, something created out of love.

  The backdoor swung open and in came Abi, in full vigilante gear. She stopped in her tracks, feeling my presence as I stood in the middle of my office slash living room and breathed in the magic.

  I saw her magic spike a fraction of an inch as she willed her eyesight to see beyond the veil.

  “You again,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Guess that’s why they call it a haunting, huh?”

  She walked funny, limping her way towards one of the twin couches I kept in my living room. Abi threw her mask aside, along with most of her gear and weapons, and tore her boots off. Her left ankle was bruised and swollen. She sat down and propped it up, staring at her injury.

  “That looks like a serious fracture,” I said. “Lemme guess, wrong fall? No, wait. There’s glass in your hair. You were thrown out.”

  She gave me an annoyed look and fished out the glass shard from her red hair.

  “I so don’t need this shit right now,” she growled.

  “Well, too bad,” I said.

  “I could banish you again.”

  I shrugged. “Turns out I got some divine get-out-of-jail-free card.”

  “We’ll see.”

  With defiance that both pissed me off and admittedly made me a little proud, Abi stood up, fractured ankle and all, and limped towards the desk.

  “Oh, come on,” I groaned. “You’re hurting yourself just to prove a point? I get it, you’re tough. Now sit down and ice that leg, will you?”

  “D’aww,” she mocked, procuring another piece of a paper with the banishing sigil on it. Her dulcet tone annoyed me to the point of screaming but there was nothing I could do, except watch her attach the paper to the wall.

  Magic spiked as the crystal in the wall activated. Energy pulsed out, burning the sigil. Ethereal magic tugged at me.

  Golden light flared from within my body, severing the spell.

  I crossed my arms and grinned cockily.

  “Like I said, I’m here to stay.”

  She let the burnt paper fall to the ground and snarled. “Oh goody.” Abi went to the kitchen to get an ice pack and limped her way back to the couch. “So what now?”

  “Now I try to convince you I’m really me,” I said. “This is real, Abi.”

  She shook her head. “You’re a projection of my unresolved issues.” She snorted. “Other chicks resolve this shit by drinking. Me: my own powers torture me.”

  “I’m real, Abi.”

  “No, you’re fucking not.” She didn’t yell or scream or anything. In fact, and this scared me more than anything else, when she spoke, she looked me right in the eyes and said the words calmly and deliberately.

  “We live in a world where people come back from the dead on a semi-regular basis,” I pointed out. “Is it really that hard to accept that I came back as a ghost?”

  She shrugged and remained silent.

  “Okay,” I said, getting more and more frustrated. “Let’s change the topic then. The costume, the mask—what is that by the way? A cat, some kind of wolf?”

  She pursed her lips and reached out for said mask. She held it on her lap, looking at the visage.

  “Not really sure,” she admitted. “The guy who sold it to me said it was a cat, but I think it could be either.” Then she smirked. “Come on, you gotta admit it looks cool. The real Erik would appreciate it.”

  Yeah, it did look cool, but I wasn’t about to feed her ego.

  “The real Erik is telling you to cut this vigilante shit out before you get killed,” I said.

  “Well, the real Erik isn’t here, so you know where to stick your opinion,” she shot back. “Besides, what else am I supposed to do? Lose my mind obsessing over a resurrection spell? Oh, I know—maybe I could run away from the real world and hide in a blacksmith’s workshop.”

  “Don’t blame Jack for trying to settle down,” I snapped. “Or my sister for trying to bring back her family. Besides, what do you think you’re accomplishing that I haven’t done already?”

  Her expression remained cold save for that one tick, that small vein at the bend of her jaw as she clenched her teeth.

  “I save lives,” she said. “I destroy the bad guys, protect the good guys, that deal. Only, I charge for it.” She leaned forwards. “This city has become poisoned and no one except for me is doing anything about it.”

  “You’re not the cure to this poisoning,” I said.

  She nodded. “You’re right. There is no cure.” She reached over and unsheathed Sun Wo Kung from its holster, and held up the golden baton. “I’m the fire that cauterizes the infection.”

  Through Limbo, her silent rage manifested over her like a dark beast rising from her body. It made my body run cold. Maybe I was too late. Maybe that kind of rage was incurable.

  I opened my mouth but the spike of magic cut off whatever I was going to say. Abi noticed it as well. Instantly, she snapped her head to the side. Magic flared as the wards around the place went off.

  I sensed a darkness from outside, accompanied by a menacing, yet playful voice.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are, little girl.”

  Chapter 11

  Abi and I both peered through the window. Outside, standing like thugs from some B-movie, was
a gang of five men. All of them wore some variation of the same outfit: dark, grungy, with ripped jeans.

  And all were bloodstained.

  The leader was around Abi’s height, five feet and change, but he was deathly white. Not just pale. His skin was chalk white, as if someone had photoshopped it. Eyes were jet-black marbles and when he smiled, I saw needle-like teeth protruding from his mouth.

  My mind instantly recalled his type. A Nelapsi, a kind of Eastern European vampire. Slovakian, or Slovenian, or one of those.

  The Nelapsi had his hands out, marking him as one of those tough-guy wannabes, and a dramatic one at that.

  “Come on out, superhero,” he called out in a thick accent that somehow made his mockery that much more irritating.

  Abi sighed.

  “That fucker’s like a cockroach,” she muttered, turning around. “I’m pretty sure I got him in the chest.”

  “The Nelapsi?” I asked.

  She looked at me quizzically. “That’s what his pals kept calling him,” she said. “How did you know that?”

  “The face, the eyes, the general overinflated ego,” I pointed out. “Seriously, I taught you better than that. Nelapsi don’t have the usual vamp weaknesses. And you have to kill them twice, a stab and a decapitation.”

  Abi stared at me for a second. “Well, fuck.” She pumped the slides on her guns and strapped them on. Then Sun Wo Kung went on her thigh.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, as she grabbed her mask.

  “Kicking some ass,” she replied. Her voice warbled a little as she adjusted the mask on her face. “Be a good little ghost and stay here.”

  “Abi, don’t-”

  “See ya later, ghosty-gator.”

  And I watched as my apprentice walked—nay, limped—out towards the threat. She didn’t hear what I had to say next, which was that Nelapsi were extra-sensitive to sunlight and all she had to do was wait them out.

  Or that she hadn’t packed any stakes or knives.

  No, no. The idiot just walked out of the front door, shutting off her ghost vision as she did, leaving me yelling at empty air.