by N M Thorn
Petrukha chuckled. “Me,” he said with a half-shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She wants her Hyperborean mirror and me, so she can bind that demon and harness its powers again. But to do that, she needs her mask and the blood of the person who broke it.” He took the broken mask and put it back into the silver box, sealing it. “As far as the weird riddle, I can explain the meaning of it. Since the location of this Isle is constantly changing, Slavic lore calls it ‘I don’t know where’. The same principle applies to the entity who protects the Isle—the Lord of the Isle. This position is never filled by a human. It could be any being of magic, not necessarily a person—hence ‘you don’t know what’.”
“Well, Petrukha,” said Damian, rising, “you’re coming with me. I’m not leaving my brother in the hands of an evil Master of the Dark Arts with demonic tendencies. Besides, it’s about time you had a chance to fix that mistake and move on with your life.”
“You’re not going to—,” Petrukha started, but Damian shook his head, a dark smile on his lips.
“Of course not,” he replied calmly. “But I need your help. Donna Luna sent me here to find you and her mask, holding my brother’s life as a bargaining chip. On the other hand, I have orders from the Destiny Council to find out what she wants, retrieve it and deliver it to any of their holding facilities.” He paused, staring out the window. “If I do that, Donna Luna will kill my brother and a few other people who deserve better. So, if you agree to help me, I will deliver her what she wants, but not in the way she wants me to do it.” He peered down at Petrukha, raising his eyebrows. “So, what is it going to be, Enforcer?”
“I wish I could go with you, Commander.” Petrukha got up, his mouth set in a hard, angry line. “I wish I could finally put it all behind me, but I can’t leave the Isle. As long as I’m the Lord, I’m bound to it.”
“Oh, God damn it all…” Damian pressed his hands to his eyes and then ran them up, through his hair.
“Can you transfer your… um… Lordship?” asked Jamie, his eyes darting from Damian to Petrukha.
“To whom? I have a few men here, but they’re all humans exposed to the World of Magic.” Petrukha shrugged. “Unless the Destiny Council sends a replacement, I have no one to transfer my power to.”
Jamie raised his eyes at Damian, and Damian’s heart skipped a beat as he realized what the young man was about to propose. With a shake of his head, he took a step closer to him, but Jamie raised his hand, stopping him.
“To me,” he said, his voice calm and firm. “Transfer your position to me and go with Damian. I’m not going to let this evil bitch kill Cole or endanger any of my friends. Once you’re done, we can switch back, right?” A heavy silence enveloped the room. Jamie moved closer to Petrukha, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Can we switch back later?”
Petrukha nodded, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Yes, we can,” he replied, his voice raspier than before. “I’ll have to prepare you for the transfer of power. It’s not going to take long.” He threw a veiled glance at Damian. “Once you receive the power, you will also receive some secret knowledge, so I need you to swear that anything you learn here, you will never repeat anywhere else. Swear to me.” He pointed at the dagger sheathed at Jamie’s belt. “Swear on your power, young wizard.” He switched his attention to Damian, giving him a puzzled stare. “Did you teach him how to swear properly?”
Damian nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Like in a slow, feverish nightmare, he watched Jamie unsheathe his dagger and lower to one knee, placing the tip of the blade on the floor.
“I swear on my power that anything I learn here, I will keep a secret, protecting the sacred knowledge with my life,” said Jamie, clearly pronouncing every word. Then he got up slowly and turned toward Damian, furrowing his brow. “Damian, tell Cole—"
“You tell him whatever you want to say yourself, Jamie. I will come back for you. Now that I know what I need to do, it’s not going to take long.” Damian took a step closer to the young man and pulled him into a quick hug, giving him a light tap on his back. “Thank you, my friend. I owe you one.”
Chapter 28
~ Damian Blake ~
The transition didn’t take long, and as Damian watched Jamie assume the position as the Lord of the Sacred Isle, his chest tightened, numbness spreading through his arms. More than half of his long life, he had spent alone, but in the last few years, he had found his brother, and he had been surrounded by people who actually sincerely cared about him. Despite the Destiny Enforcers’ rules, he had gotten attached to them, loving them in the way only a deeply lonely soul could love those who showed him true kindness.
Even though he knew he wasn’t leaving Jamie in this strange Isle forever, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he was losing all the people he cared about, one by one, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wasn’t afraid to face Donna Luna. A Master of the Dark Arts or a demoness—he didn’t care what she was and what kind of powers she had in her possession. He had gotten used to fighting evil in all sorts of shapes and forms every day of his life. He had lost battles before. He had made plenty of mistakes. But this was a battle he couldn’t afford to lose.
No doubts.
No fear.
No hesitation.
Today, he couldn’t afford any of that.
“I’m ready, Commander.” Petrukha’s voice brought him back from his heavy thoughts, and Damian flinched, raising his head.
“Give me that damn box,” said Damian through clenched teeth, barely recognizing the icy, hoarse sound in his voice. Petrukha hesitated for a moment, but then took the box and gave it to Damian, throwing a shocked gaze at Jamie.
Damian touched the box with his fingers, whispering a short spell. It lit up with the bright, white light of his magic. The light spread through his arm, slowly dwindling, and when it was gone so was the box. Damian grunted and braced his hands against the table, leaning heavily on it until the last traces of pain inflicted by his magic vanished.
Then he put his hand on Petrukha’s shoulder and gave Jamie a short nod. “I’ll see you soon, Jamie.”
He snapped his fingers and vanished from the Sacred Isle, taking Petrukha with him.
It was past midnight when Damian materialized on the steps of Paradise Manor. He glanced around, taking a deep breath. The familiar scents of the desert and the loud shrills of cicadas and crickets invaded his senses, and despite the severity of the situation, a tiny smile tugged at his lips. This place was his home, and he loved everything about it, but right now, he had no time to relax and enjoy it. If Donna Luna truly had someone in his circle who worked for her, he needed to be fast, executing his plan before she could find out that he was back.
Cole said she had known about his and Ricardo’s plan a few months before they were forced to meet with the Head of the Arizona House for the first time. Damian frowned, nibbling on his lip. There were only a few people he could trust unconditionally, and all of them lived in this house.
He ran up the steps, gesturing for Petrukha to follow him, and unlocked the door, stepping into the cool darkness of the foyer. The antique silver mirror lit up with a soft white light, and he approached it, gently brushing his fingers over the frame. Petrukha’s reflection materialized next to his, and Damian felt some relief, confirming what he thought originally—he could trust the old Enforcer.
“Thank you.” He nodded at his own reflection, and for a brief moment, the shadow of a beautiful young woman with braided, blonde hair manifested in front of him. The Zerkalitsa nodded to him, sending him an air kiss, and vanished.
“You have your own Zerkalitsa?” asked Petrukha, but as his voice bounced from wall to wall in a continuous, whispering echo, he winced. “What the hell?”
“Welcome to Paradise Manor,” Damian murmured and headed toward the hallway on his right, waving for Petrukha to follow.
The kitchen was dark and empty. He found the light switch on his right and flipped it o
n. To his surprise, Gypsy was sleeping on the counter by the coffee machine, her long, bushy tail covering her nose. She lifted her head, blinking at him sleepily, and a wide feline grin appeared on her face.
“Well, hello, stranger,” she purred, stretching her paws toward him lazily. “How convenient. I was just thinking that I needed some entertainment.”
“Is River asleep?” Damian asked, holding his breath while expecting Gypsy’s answer.
“No, she’s not home. They called her to work about an hour ago,” she replied, rolling her green eyes. “What is it with you humans and work? You are doing it all wrong. As far as I am concerned, working one day a week is more than enough. The rest of the week should be considered a weekend.” She rose to her feet and arched her back with a large yawn. “Just make sure, it’s not a Monday. I hate the Monday blues.”
“I assume you’re talking to this cat?” asked Petrukha, staring at him with curiosity.
“No, you village simpleton,” replied Gypsy, jumping off the counter. “The cat is talking to him. Peasants don’t speak to us Queens unless they’re spoken to. Where do you find your friends, Sasquatch?”
“I’m a Child of Earth,” Damian said, suppressing a burst of laughter which came out in a loud snort. “I’d love to show you around, but we don’t have time, Petrukha. Let’s get straight to business.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, spreading his arms. “It’s been years since I was locked up on that cursed Isle. I’m just enjoying the freedom, as short-lived as it may be.”
Damian nodded and channeled his magic, directing it to his hands. Then he drew a rune in the air and whispered a summoning spell, calling to Zabava. A heartbeat later, the rune was replaced by the vortex of a portal, and Zabava stepped out of it, her unnaturally green eyes halting on Damian and then darting to Petrukha.
“I see you found what you’ve been looking for, Commander,” she said. She pulled a chair out and sat down, leaning back with her legs spread wide in a man-like manner.
“Oh, my God!” squealed Gypsy. “The Goddess of all Kitchens is here!” She hopped on Zabava’s lap, and she couldn’t help but smile, her fingers threading through Gypsy’s long fur with affection.
Damian pressed his hand to his mouth, trying not to laugh. He leaned against the counter, folding his arms.
“Zabava, I need your help,” he said, all mirth gone. He briefed her in on all the latest events and some details of his plan. “I need to block the entire Downtown Phoenix. I want this whole area to be a magicless void. Can you help me get it done?”
“The entire Downtown Phoenix,” muttered Zabava, shaking her head. “I knew you were a crazy SOB, but I didn’t realize how truly crazy you were. What you want to do hasn’t been done in centuries. What makes you think something like this is even possible?”
“I know it’s possible because I’ve experienced this kind of magic on my own self,” he replied, telling her the same story he had told Jamie on his way across the Sacred Isle. “If some Carpathian witches could do something like this, I’m sure we can recreate the spell.”
“Wait… what?” Zabava stared at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. “On yourself?” She slapped her hands on her thighs, shaking her head.
Damian glowered at her, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. “Zabava,” he growled, but she just waved her hand, wiping tears of laughter off her eyes.
“Oh, come on, Damian,” she sang once she could speak again. “I had no idea you were one of those two unfortunate Destiny Enforcers who got disabled by a Hutsuls covenant. You have to admit, they had you by the balls. I have no idea how you managed to get away, magicless and all.”
Damian threw his arms up. “I have no time for entertainment, Zabava. Can you do it or not?”
“He never has time for anything good, Zabava. Just ignore him,” purred Gypsy, stretching under Zabava’s fingers. “Once a Sasquatch, always a Sasquatch.”
Zabava sobered up and frowned, her fingers drumming on the table absentmindedly. “I’ve heard this story,” she said, now completely serious. “Those witches still brag about it. The problem is, they summoned and trapped two high-level demons for a short time, just enough to power that spell. Not just any demons—the Guards of Hell, I believe.” She shook her head, nibbling on her lip. “Besides, using the demonic essence was the only way they could have cursed you in a territory void of magical energy.”
“I can’t summon demons. That is out of the question,” Damian snapped, but then raised his hands apologetically. “Any other ideas?”
“The power of two Guards of Hell would be close enough to the power of two gods, at least…” mused Zabava. “Well, I’m a goddess. Do you know any other gods who’d be willing to work for you?”
“All gods hate Destiny Enforcers,” muttered Petrukha, pulling a chair out to sit down.
“Tell me something new. No one is comfortable around Destiny Enforcers.” Zabava shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Present company not excluded.”
“Oh, come on, Zabava.” Gypsy slipped to the floor, liquid and soundless like all felines, and circled Damian’s legs, settling by his feet. “Maybe he is a Destiny Enforcer, but he is my Enforcer, and I love him. You know how it is… We get used to our pets, and they become like members of the family… sor-r-r-ta…”
Damian stared at the cat, flabbergasted, thousands of thoughts rushing through his mind at once. Then he raked his hand through his hair, covering his face, and got up.
“I think I know someone who can help. But get ready, Zabava. It may come as a shock,” he said, channeling his power.
Whispering a summoning spell, he drew a glowing orange rune using his elemental power and pressed his hand over it, completing the summons. Before he finished the last word of the spell, a woman, short and slender, materialized next to him in swirls of dark mist. Her large, black eyes halted on Damian, and a slow, alluring smile stretched her full lips. Approaching him, she placed her hand on his chest and tilted her head back as if she was looking at a high-rise.
“Well, hello, lover,” she purred, long strands of her black hair moving in soft waves around her. “You summoned me. I’m stunned.”
“Not as much as I am,” Zabava snapped, jolting to her feet. “Damian, are you out of your fucking mind? She’s a dark deity. A goddess of Nightmares! What the fuck were you thinking, man?”
Damian raised his hands, asking Zabava to calm down, and looked at the goddess of Nightmares. “Mara, I need your help,” he said flatly.
“Hmm, wouldn’t be the first time.” She chuckled softly, her long fingernail, covered in something resembling black nail polish, drawing circles on his chest. “What can I do for you?”
“Before I tell you what I need,” said Damian, removing her hand off his chest, “I wanted to mention that I spoke with Veles about your situation, and he told me exactly what I need to do to get you home.”
“You are not lying, Damian?” she exhaled, her pale complexion turning almost blue. “You wouldn’t lie about something like that, would you?”
He took one knee before her and placed her hand on his forehead. “Read my mind, Mara. I know you can see my thoughts if I let you in,” he offered. “I’d never use something like this just to get you to do my bidding.” She removed her hand, and he got up. “The reason I’m telling you this, is so in case you agree to help me, you won’t play any games and do exactly what I need you to do.”
“You got yourself a deal, Enforcer,” replied Mara. “Tell me what you need.”
Damian turned to Zabava, motioning for her to explain. With a shake of her head and a deep sigh, Zabava told Mara what needed to be done. The dark goddesses’ face lit up with mischief, and she hopped in place, clapping her hands like a little girl.
“Aw, sounds like so much fun.” She turned to Damian, cocking her head. “But darling, to complete this incantation, you need five people. They don’t need to be gods, but they must have powerful magic. Do you have anyone who’s crazy enoug
h to do something like this?”
Damian stifled a sigh. Normally, he would summon Luc de la Crosse or Cossack, but in the given situation, he couldn’t trust anyone who knew about his plans. As much as he hated to think that Luc or Adrian could betray him, he couldn’t take the chance. He couldn’t use Yakov Bruce either for the same reason—the old eagle was involved with the Wardens. He needed someone who knew nothing about his plans for infiltrating the Arizona underground fighting House, going back a few months.
“Zabava, summon Grand Master Elony,” he said quietly. “She’s a powerful mage. Her magic should be enough.”
“She hates your guts, Damian,” Zabava objected.
“Maybe so, but if she helps me break into the underground bunker, she’ll find her fake slayers and the missing witches. Isn’t that what she wants?” asked Damian.
“You know your brother is a vamp, and it’s—,” Zabava started.
“And please make sure Grand Master Elony knows that if she so much as looks at Cole the wrong way, she’ll die a slow and painful death,” replied Damian dryly, his mouth set in a grim line.
Mara cackled, dancing in place. “That’s my boy. I’ve yet to make a Dark Enforcer out of you.”
“Dream on,” grumbled Damian at Mara, eliciting a downpour of giggles out of her. He glanced at her reproachfully and switched his attention to Zabava. “Please, Zabava. I don’t have time to argue with you.”
“Fine.” Zabava turned away and drew a rune in the air, using her magic.
Damian didn’t wait for her to complete her summons and channeled his magic again, conjuring another rune. He pressed his hand over it and whispered, “Archmage Allerton, I summon thee.”
He didn’t expect it to happen so fast, but a swirling portal opened up almost immediately, and a man in glasses with a thick mop of graying hair stepped out of it. He readjusted his glasses, his attentive eyes slipping from one face to the next. As his gaze reached Mara, his jaw dropped. Switching his attention to Damian, he waved his hand in Mara’s direction.
