by N. P. Martin
Sanaka appeared out of thin air in the center of the wide front hallway. Lit candles in small wooden holders adorned the walls, casting a pleasantly soft light that had a relaxing effect on me. The entire house was lit only by candles. Sanaka had no use for electricity. The candles also never went out and magickally renewed themselves when they burnt down. "You summoned the demon," Sanaka said. He was wearing the dark robes he liked to wear while at home. Sort of like Mage lounge wear. I never went in for the whole robes thing myself. They made me feel too much like a monk or some misguided Satanist, neither of which I wanted to be.
“Yes,” I said back, walking slowly towards him after first removing my shoes and leaving them by the front door.
“And now the demon wants payment in return for his power.”
His habit of seeming to know everything was annoying when I first met him. After twenty years, though, I was used to it. “Yes.”
Sanaka nodded in that sagely way of his. “So why aren’t you out securing this payment?”
I stopped a few feet from him. Sanaka liked his personal space. “Because securing payment means stealing a hundred souls, that’s why.”
Sanaka said nothing for a moment as he stared at me. “You have the stench of black magick on you.”
I dropped my head almost in shame. “I do.”
“Would you like to bath in the pool? I’m sure you know what that is.”
"I do," I said. "And no thank you. I'm afraid I may have to use once again magick that is less than clean by the time I'm done. If the stench offends you, I can go. I know you hate it."
Sanaka more than hated the blacker forms of magick. Once upon a time, long ago, Sanaka allowed himself to become enamored by the darker forms of magick, to the point where he became completely obsessed and the dark magick consumed him, soul and all. Only the intervention of a benevolent Dimension Lord saved Sanaka from an eternity of tortured madness. Sometimes it helps to have friends in the right places, even in—especially in—the magickal universe. "Come," Sanaka said. "Let us have tea. I will be interested in seeing your execution of the ritual, which you must surely know."
Christ, was the old man still testing me? Probably. Sanaka made everything into a test, something else I used to hate him for.
I followed the old Mage down a few faceless corridors into a smallish room that was used only for the making and drinking of tea. As Sanaka knelt on the floor by a small wooden table, I went about the tea making ritual. I won't bore you with the details, except to say that the whole process was ridiculously complex and sophisticated and took nearly half and hour to complete. Back in the day, when Sanaka insisted I learn the tea ritual, it used to take me hours to complete, and the whole ritual felt insufferably tedious. Doing it now, the ritual felt reassuringly calming to me as I went about it, helping me to forget about my troubles for a short time at least. When the tea was ready, I brought the cups to the table, arranged them in the manner the ritual dictated, then knelt down at the other side of the table. The tea was good, after tasting it. Sanaka seemed satisfied. At least he didn't put his cup down and wordlessly walk away like he used to when the tea wasn't to his liking.
"So tell me," I said in a slightly subdued voice that respected the peacefulness in the room. "How does one go about stealing a hundred souls? I have no intention of taking them by force from random people. I was thinking of maybe visiting the Astral Plane, gathering up strays there. What do you think?"
“Most of those strays are still innocent souls. You would condemn them to an eternity of enslavement under a demon in the worst of hells?”
I shook my head. “I suppose not.”
Sanaka sipped his tea, then carefully put the cup down on the table. “I know of a place where you can collect your souls, a place where only the darkest of souls gather. You might say that such souls are even deserving of the punishment you would be sending them to.”
“What place?” I asked, not liking the sound of it already.
"The Devil's Playground," he said, regarding me with his deep brown eyes.
“The Devil’s Playground?” I thought for a moment, coming up empty. “I don’t recall ever hearing about such a place.”
"Not many have. And for good reason. It is a secret place, an island off the coast of Morgan County. Officially, the island is known as Red Tail Island. Unofficially, it is called the Devil's Playground. It is a place where the very wealthy go to indulge their darker desires. Innocent victims are brought there to be hunted like animals. Many of them are also tortured and abused in ways that defy the imagination. Nothing on Devil's Island—not a single taboo—is off limits. Men can go there and do as they please to whomever they please. For the right price, of course."
“How long has this been going on?”
“Since the island was bought over in the late 1880’s by a wealthy German businessman called Hans Belger, who is also a powerful Warlock.”
“Is?”
"He still owns the island. He lives there, in fact, in a tower at the very center where he can see all that goes on there. Belger encourages his followers to indulge their worst sides. For many of them, their worst sides are all they have now, their souls are so stained and blackened by their heinous acts of cruelty towards others. Belger himself is known in his home country as the Black Forest Butcher. He used to steal local children for use in his black magick rituals and experiments. Given his power, stealing his soul would be like stealing one thousand souls. Your demon would be more than sated."
“I’m sure it would, but by the sounds of it, I’d have more chance of getting killed or worse before I managed to steal this Belger character’s soul. How does he even still have a soul, given his penchant for black magick?”
“He has a soul,” Sanaka said. “It is as black as his heart. A terrible, hideous thing.”
“And you expect me to go and steal this terrible, hideous thing that sounds like it shouldn’t be touched by anyone?”
“I do not expect you to do anything. You came to me for help, remember?”
In my mind, I began to wonder if becoming a ghoul wasn't going to be so bad after all. I mean, no soul, no attachments, dead inside, eating rotten meat to sustain myself. Not so bad, right?
I shook my head. "Looks like I'm going to the Devil's Playground."
23
Bitchcraft
AFTER LEAVING SANAKA'S, I decided I would walk the few miles back to The Sanctum. Dawn was just starting to break over the city, muted light coming through the clouds signifying the start of a new day. Although for me, the dawn only meant the beginning of day two in my countdown to ghoulship. One day left to sort everything out and get the demon what it wanted, if things worked out that was. Stealing the soul of a darkly powerful Warlock like Hans Belger wasn't going to be easy. It might even prove to be impossible, but as ever in those situations, it wasn't like I had much of a choice.
On the plus side, Sanaka had given me a parting gift in the form of a small wooden box that looked and smelled like it might have once contained herbs or compounds of some sort. As boxes went it was unassuming, with just a few basic carvings of leaves on the lid and around the sides. It wasn't very big either, the whole box fitting easily into the front pocket of my trench coat. According to Sanaka, though, the bland wooden box was a powerful wee number, as it had the ability to trap and contain any soul it was asked to. All I had to do was get close enough to Belger to use it and hope that he didn't banish me to the asshole of the universe (where the Things That Should Not Be dwelled in the dark depths) before I got the box to work.
Walking through the park in Little Tokyo as a dawn chorus of bird song began to sound from the cherry blossom trees, I began to get the sense that someone was following me. Keeping my demeanor casual, I carried on walking, past the ornamental fountain with the goldfish in it, then past the kids play area. At the same time, I cast my awareness out behind me in search of whoever was following me. After a moment, I sensed the aura of another about one hundred yar
ds behind. The aura was human with a low-level current of magick running through it. I shook my head. Probably some bloody hedge magican out to—
A sudden force stopped me in my tracks, a force that also attempted to rip my magick from me. There wasn't much power in the attack and I repelled it easy enough before turning around to see a figure standing about fifty yards away, on the grass next to a large cherry blossom tree. "Son of a bitch," I said, raising my hand and sending out a blast of magick towards the person who was trying to steal it from me. The magick blast hit the dude in the chest and sent him slamming back against the tree he was standing near. I held him there against the tree as I walked over.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I asked. "I'm taking a pleasant walk in the park, which by the way I may never get the chance to do again after today when you suddenly attack me and try to steal my goddamn magick." I increased the pressure on my hold. "You could say I'm a little pissed off here."
The guy I was holding against the tree looked to be some sad, wannabe mage. He was small and bald and wore something that resembled a plastic cape with stars on it, like something a kid would wear, or a magician at a children's party. Underneath the cape, he appeared to be wearing a dark robe that was pushed out by his rotund form. His face was like a fat weasel grimacing. “Please, let me go. You’re hurting me.”
These fucking people, I thought. They attack you, they try to steal your most valuable commodity and then they have the nerve to complain when you don't take too kindly to their despicable actions. "Oh, am I? I'm sorry. Wait. There. Is that better?"
The pathetic hedge magician turned up his grimace. “That’s worse…”
“I know, it is, isn’t it? It can get much worse than that, believe me.”
“Please, I’m sorry…ahhhhhh…”
I sighed and let him go, and he fell forward on the ground to his hands and knees, seeming even more pathetic now. “Why did you try to steal from me? And why are you wearing that ridiculous cape? Is there something wrong with you? Wait, forget I asked that.”
The little man started to cry suddenly, softly weeping to himself. “I’m sorry…”
“Shit.” I shook my head. “I was only kidding about the cape, you know. It’s lovely, really, very…sparkly.”
“It belonged to my daughter,” the man said, looking up at me with a red face wet with tears. “She died…she’s dead…”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
Shit.
"I'm trying to get her back. I just need the power to do it. I don't have enough yet."
“Enough for what?”
“A Resurrection Spell.”
"I don't think a Resurrection Spell is the way to go. Why would you want to bring your daughter back as a zombie?"
The little dude burst into tears again. “I just want her back! It was my fault she died!”
Jesus. Things were getting a little heavy for that time of the morning. I looked around uncomfortably as if others were watching, then I asked the man how his daughter had died and he told me Leukemia. “How is that your fault?”
The little dude in the shiny cape stood up and looked at me, his height reaching to just below my chest, so he had to crane his neck at me. "I should have saved her," he said like he was stating the obvious. "Except my minuscule magick wasn't enough."
"Look," I told him. "I know what it's like to lose someone. I know you don't want to accept this, but your daughter is gone from this world now, and there's nothing you can do. Bringing her back as a shell is not the answer. Neither is trying to steal magick from people. Do yourself a favor and forget about the bitchcraft. In fact, if I were you, I'd forget about magick altogether. It causes more pain than it alleviates."
“But I have nothing else. My wife left me when our daughter died. Magick is all I have.”
I nodded. He was clearly all alone in the world, or else he wouldn't have been running around in a kids cape trying to steal magick. I knew what it was like to be alone in the world, with no one to turn to. Magick was all I had at one point as well. Sure, magick took my whole family, but it also got me through when that happened. Maybe it would get this guy through as well.
“Alright. Take it seriously then. Stop with the bitchcraft and learn it properly. Dedicate your life to it, its the only way. And maybe not wear that cape in public. I know it makes you feel close to your daughter, but you know…"
“It’s like she’s with me when I wear it.” His face lit up a little, probably thinking of his daughter. He thrust his hand out. “I’m Sam.”
“Creed,” I said, shaking his hand. “I need to be getting off now, Sam…”
Sam nodded. “Will you teach me magick?”
I almost laughed, but didn’t want to upset him any further. So I lied instead. “I already have an apprentice. Sorry.”
“Oh. That’s okay. Just thought I’d ask. Well, bye then.” He turned and walked towards the trees, his cape flapping behind him in the morning breeze.
“Sam?”
Sam stopped and turned around. “Yes?”
"Here." I handed him a card with a number on it that I fished out of my coat pocket. The card was blank until I used magick to imprint the details I wanted on it, which in that case, was the number for a small school of magick run by someone I had helped quite a bit in the past. "Ring the number, tell whoever answers that August Creed told you to call. They’ll take the rest from there.”
Sam took the card like it was some rare magickal item, which it was in a way. Admittance into the school I was referring him to was difficult unless you had good references. My reference was solid and would almost certainly get Sam into the school, unless he did something on his own to fuck it up, which I doubted he would. He seemed like he wanted it. Time would tell. “What is this?”
“It's what you want. Your path starts here."
His face lit up in excitement. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
I flashed him a smile and started to walk away. "Stop the bitchcraft. It isn't becoming to a Mage in training."
24
Apparition
DESPITE LEAVING SAM the cape-wearing wannabe Adept back in the park in Little Tokyo, for some reason, I still had the feeling that I was being followed and that someone was watching me from afar. When I cast out my awareness again, I sensed nothing out of the ordinary, almost as if whoever was tailing me disappeared somehow when they sensed me scanning for their presence. But despite not seeing anyone, I couldn't ignore the tingling sensation in the back of my neck. By the time I got to East Oakland, I was constantly stopping and looking around, staring at the people commuting to work, thinking one of them might be following me, but knowing they weren't because by then I was convinced that a dark spirit was at my six. The only way to be sure, though, was to cast a spell and force the spirit (if indeed that's what it was) to show itself. But there were too many Sleepwalkers around, and I couldn't risk a public display of magick. So I walked on as I headed for home, intending to call Leona when I got there to see if she would accompany me to the Devil's Playground (something told me I was going to need her skills to back me up).
When I turned onto Comptonville Street, a block away from the Sanctum, I walked into an underpass where the morning light yet to penetrate properly. I had barely set foot inside when the gloom of the underpass turned to full darkness and the light at the openings disappeared as if the tunnel I was in had become sealed
off to the outside world. The question was, who sealed it?
Whoever or whatever sealed me inside the tunnel had a dark presence to it, that much was certain. The air around me became thick with the smell of black magick as if there were a hundred animal carcasses in there with me. But rather than be repulsed by the smell, a large part of me welcomed it. Or rather, welcomed the dark magick it was emanating from.
For a few elongated seconds, I wanted nothing more than to drink that malignant magick in, to take it deep inside me so I could go to twisted, dark places in my mind.
Before the dark magick could get its hooks into me, however, I managed to fortify myself against it with my own magick, creating a forcefield of sorts around myself that manifested as a kind of glowing blue bubble. The light from my magick penetrated the darkness by only a few feet, and I could see nothing beyond that perimeter. Although I didn’t need my sight to know that there was an unmistakably evil presence in the tunnel with me.
"Show yourself!" I shouted, trying to project a sense of fearlessness, as one had to do in situations like that, lest your enemy takes advantage of your weak emotions, turning them against you, which was something most dark spirits specialized in. "Why are you following me, spirit?"
Something flew overhead, like a large bat in the darkness. Then again, back and forth like the thing was trying to taunt me or make me afraid of it, which to be honest, it was doing a good job of, at least with the taunting part. When you only have a day or so left before your life as you now it gets decimated forever, you tend to be a little tetchy and a bit intolerant of annoyances like that, no matter how malevolent they were.
A raspy, whispering voice sounded throughout the tunnel, the voice seeming to bounce off the brick walls in every direction. “Creeeeeed…” the voice rasped. “Creeeeeeddddd!”
“Is that supposed to scare me?” I made a point of laughing at the thing overhead. “You obviously don’t know who you’re dealing with here. If you don’t fuck off right now, I’ll take great pleasure in crushing your spirit until there’s nothing left.”
Reddish magick began to form in my right hand as I prepared to reach out and grab the spirit the next time it flew overhead. Once I had a hold of it, I would be able to snuff it out of existence (after I had found out what it wanted of course). That wasn't the first time a spirit had pestered me in that way. Some spirits were drawn to my power like moths to a flame in the darkness. Nearly all of them turn out to be lost souls, trapped in this world, not knowing where to go next. Usually, I would have helped them along to the Astral Plane so they could find their way to the great River of Forgetfulness, so their souls could be processed and sorted for the afterlife. The spirit that was badgering me in the underpass, however, didn't seem all that lost or afraid. It was actively hunting me in fact, deliberately provoking me.
