by J. P. Rice
“There you go again being a little mama’s boy. That’s called being a real man, toughenin’ you up. Still ain’t gotten rid of the sissy in ya. I’ll help you with that.”
I couldn’t imagine that he had any time to build up a serious magic repertoire in only a few days and dismissed his threats. “Tell you what, big man. You know where I am. Why don’t you stop by for a visit?” I didn’t have permission from the Celtic Gods to commit murder, but I didn’t care. If he showed up here today, I was going to murder that fool.
He spat, and said, “I don’t even need to be there to kick your ass. I’ve already got a hold on you. Look up at the ceiling.”
I peeked up at all the white rafters, except for the one directly above my head. The rectangular white rafter was soaked in red and bowing out. The dam broke and a stinking, thick red liquid with coagulated black chunks came pouring down on my only remaining nice suit and me.
I dropped the receiver on the desk and could hear my father laughing from several feet away. I wiped off the ear and mouthpiece and put it against my head. “Nice cheap trick, asshole. Stop hiding away and get down here for a showdown.”
“I prefer to torture you from a distance. Say goodbye, Mikey.”
The phone receiver took on a mind of its own and jumped out of my hand. It levitated above my desk, almost entrancing me as I stared at the floating object. The receiver quickly moved back and forth and then in a circle.
I sat frozen to my desk chair as the receiver circled my head and lowered. The cord wrapped itself around my neck, again and again, until the base of the phone was pressed against the side of my head.
I gagged, and slobber shot out of the sides of my mouth as I clawed at the wire, trying to get a good grip on it. The cord kept tightening and I got my index finger in between it and my neck. It felt like my finger was being chopped off as I desperately pulled on the death cord.
My head became very dizzy and I fell face first from my chair into the nasty pool of aged blood. The only sound I could hear was my father laughing through the phone as life slowly ebbed from my body. My extremities went numb as my worst nightmare started to come to fruition. The man I wanted to kill more than anyone, was going to kill me instead. A rotten twist of irony if I had ever seen one.
He abused me. He abused my mom. This wasn’t fair. I was supposed to kill him for my mother. I wanted to do it for her. I’m sorry, Mom. Looks like he got me. I’m sorry I failed.
I heard a strange beeping sound and I assumed the hallucinations were starting as bright lights streaked through my eyes. The cord loosened, allowing me to suck in a few precious breaths. The beeping stopped, and the phone cord tightened again, cutting off all the air to my lungs.
Thoughts mashed together in my oxygen-deprived head and one came to the front and center. That beeping was my call waiting and it weakened my father’s hold over the phone. Electronics to the rescue again. The beeping came in again, and the cord loosened.
I had to break the phone. I regained control over my body and banged the side of my head with the phone base attached against my solid desk. It was knocking me senseless, and my father’s exuberant laughter made me think that he still had the upper hand.
I was about to knock myself out when the solution struck me like a bolt of lightning. I reached up and squeezed the input for the cord into the phone base. I pinched as hard as I could and yanked the wire away.
It came out of the base, and finally the cord went limp. I untangled it from around my neck and threw the phone to the side. Leaning back against my desk, I wondered how my father had built up that much magical knowledge in only a few days. Unless the Red Cavern had been recruiting and teaching him for a while.
Crazy thoughts ran through my head about my father and what had just happened. A firm knock thumped against the door.
Socrates.
Chapter 17
I jumped up from the floor and almost fell back down from my equilibrium being off and the pool of blood on the ground. I put my hand on my desk to steady myself, waited a few moments, and went to the door. A werewolf in a chauffeur outfit knocked again.
My chest heaved in and out from the supernatural fight with my father. My mind was scrambled, but I needed to go forward with this meeting and process what had just happened a few minutes ago.
I opened the door and the werewolf spoke in a gruff tone, “Socrates. He’s waiting to take you to see the Gods.”
I looked down at myself, soaked in rancid blood. “Perhaps I could run home and get cleaned up a bit. An unexpected event has me...” I gestured to my suit.
The werewolf didn’t speak, turned on his heel, walked up to the limo, and knocked on the tinted back window. The window lowered, and the werewolf stuck his head inside. The chauffeur took a step back and opened the door.
Socrates emerged wearing the same robes as yesterday. (Or a different set that looked exactly the same.) He called from the sidewalk, “Is there a fire hydrant in the area?”
“Bout a quarter-mile that way.” I pointed down the street.
Socrates said, “Excellent.” Then he closed his eyes and took long, deep breaths as his chest heaved in and out. His eyes opened, and he said, “Stand against the building.”
I followed his orders and he extended his arms. A blast of warm water (please be water) came from both of his hands and I understood why he had told me to stand against the wall. He washed me off with the strength of a fire hose as I spun around in circles to get clean. It didn’t surprise me that Socrates knew magic, being an immortal genius and all.
I finished getting hosed down, but now I was completely soaked with water and shivered in the winter air. I wouldn’t look terrible, but I prepared for an uncomfortable trip. My worries were erased when Socrates opened his mouth in a circle.
A gale force wind came from his lips and plastered me against the building. I worried that the force might whisk my beat-up office away like the Wizard of Oz. My face and skin rippled from the burst of wind. Socrates relented and told me to turn around.
This part of the drying process was extremely uncomfortable when the intense wind smashed my nuts into the wall. The raging gusts stopped, and I felt the fabric of my suit jacket. Completely dry and warm. Huh.
I joined Socrates in the back of the limo and the werewolf closed the door behind us. I said, “Sorry about all that. I just had a little run in with my father. It wasn’t very pretty as you can see.”
He handed me a small bottle of water, and said, “I know a bit about issues with one’s father. I could actually go on for days about it. You need to push that aside and get ready to meet the Gods. They are eager to talk to you.”
The car pulled out onto the road. I said, “And I, them. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about this.”
He picked at a bowl of dates and talked while he chewed on the snacks. “It’s only a friendly conversation at the end of which you can say yes or no. There’s really no pressure involved, but remember what I told you yesterday about a war in Pittsburgh. The Greeks have the strongest footing around here. Listen wisely.”
I was still waiting for this ancient philosopher to drop some knowledge on me and assumed he must be saving his best material for when we were in front of the Gods. He probably didn’t want to waste his time with a kid in his early twenties. I understood.
I wondered if they were going to roll out the red carpet for me. It struck me that the werewolf driver hadn’t rolled the little red carpet out of the limo for me to get in. I guess that was only reserved for the philosopher.
I broke the short silence, “So, I’m pretty sure I use a variation of the Socratic Method in my line of work. I’m a private detective.”
He dug his hand into his thick beard and scratched his chin. “Of course, of course. I thought you were going to say you were a lawyer.” He let out a belly laugh.
Something was off. He knew I wasn’t a lawyer. And was that even a joke? If so, I don’t get it. The limo speeded up and we strea
ked past the other cars on the road. I couldn’t tell you the exact speed, but we were flying past everyone else on the two-lane turnpike, weaving back and forth, in and out of traffic.
I tried to keep track of where we were heading and continued the conversation. “Not a lawyer. Was Plato made into an immortal too? Was he a good student?” Stupid question, of course he was a good student.
“Who?”
Really? “Plato.”
“Right, right. I thought you were referring to the pasty dough that children like to play with.” He laughed again.
I hadn’t pegged him for a comedian and he sounded like an idiot savant who made jokes to cover for a lack of knowledge. He continued, “He was quite mischievous at first until I settled him down.”
“Is he an immortal too?”
He chewed up a mouthful of dates and swallowed. “Oh yes. You might run into him during your visit.”
We got off at the Irwin exit and headed into the country. We were well outside of Pittsburgh now, but not all the entrances to the underworlds could be within city limits so I wasn’t alarmed. The roads went from paved to gravel to dirt as we plunged further into the rural area.
I asked, “What was Plato’s original name again?” I knew this was never a proven fact, but Socrates should know this.
“I’m sorry, what did you ask?” He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes.
“I can’t remember Plato’s real name. Surely you know it.”
He closed his eyes. “I’m having great head pains right now. I think it’s from using that magic earlier to help you out.”
He didn’t know Aristocles? I pressed him. “When did Plato change his name?”
He ignored me, and I wanted to jump out of the vehicle because something didn’t smell right. It didn’t matter as the limousine rolled to a stop in the middle of a frosty forest that surrounded both sides of the road. My stomach churned, not in nervousness, but because I was sensing more magic.
I brought my magic to the surface and prepared for battle. I never thought I would say this, but I will kill Socrates first, then move on to the werewolf, and finally steal the car and get out of here. The chauffeur opened the door, and as I stepped out, a wave of dark magic hit me in the face.
I started to pull in the chill of the surrounding woods. I telepathically called out to the trees to lend me their wisdom of the area. I breathed deeply. In and out. In and out. I took the chill from inside my body and started forming an invisible ice ball.
A voice called out from the woods, “Don’t try it. You are thoroughly surrounded, wizard.”
Socrates slid out of the backseat. I told him, “You better get ready to use that magic again.”
As the philosopher stood up, his body transposed before my very eyes. I’d been had. I spoke through the lump in my throat, “Aka Manah. A demon that prevents people from fulfilling their moral obligations. I should have known as much.”
He had the body of a tall, physically fit man wearing an expensive pinstripe suit, but his head was the skull of a bull with long, twisting horns coming from his temples and extending high into the air. He couldn’t fit back into the limo in this state, that was for sure. The skull had bright yellow eyes with long black slits embedded into the cavities and a golden amulet in the middle of his forehead. I couldn’t tell what kept the item in place because it didn’t have anything attached to it.
He said, “Aka Manah. Very perceptive. I was having trouble keeping that act up at the end. Put away your magic. I can see your vines spilling out of you and slithering around on the ground. You are surrounded by my friends from the Red Cavern.”
From both sides of the street, hundreds of demons came out of the woods. I put my magic away. I knew they would kill me if I didn’t. At first, I thought this might be a plot by the vamps to kill me because they had found out I was harboring Carolyn, or worse, they had found out I had killed an elder.
Now, my mind jumped to a much more frightening possibility. My father was in cahoots with the Red Cavern. They knew about me, so they had to know that my father could be even more powerful. I probably led them right to him when I had visited him in prison. I knew I shouldn’t have visited that worthless piece of shit. He was about to have the last laugh apparently.
Aka Manah asked, “Aren’t you even going to ask what is going on?”
I had a rather good idea of what was about to happen and didn’t need the play-by-play. I thought about calling on my magic to kill a few of the demons before I died. “Okay. What is going on?” I asked listlessly.
“We are going to take you to the Red Cavern. You aren’t going to meet any Gods today. You’re going to meet some devils.”
Chapter 17
I was basically plunging into the depths of hell. How bad could it be? Maybe I’ll bump into Dante. Hell, I’m friends with Socrates already, right?
The tricky demon shifter that once was Socrates pushed me into the woods as the rest of the demons followed. I felt like I was being led to the slaughter as my feet skipped across the frosty forest floor.
Aka Manah’s expensive Italian leather shoes trampled over the brush as he pushed me in the back to keep me moving. The darkness and magical power intensified as we trekked along a narrow path. I heard a waterfall in the distance, or maybe it was just a raging river, but I didn’t recall any rapids like that out this way.
I was being marched to my father so he could kill me with help from the demons. In turn, they would turn him into their slave to perform tasks on earth at their will. Win-win for them. Lose-lose for me. No other ideas made sense in my head.
We moved toward a steep hillside as Aka Manah kept poking me in the back and the sounds of the stomping demons filled the forest. I noticed a small clearing up ahead at the base of the hill. We emerged into the overcast day and my soles crunched the frozen blades of grass as I walked through the open field.
An enormous rock, almost twice my height, sat at the base of the wall. As I started to ascend the hill, Aka Manah grabbed my suit jacket and pulled me back. “We needn’t go any further.”
Aka Manah held out his arms and closed his eyes. The enormous stone rocked back and forth, building up momentum, before finally toppling over on its side and exposing a huge opening in the base of the mountain. A rush of dark magic rushed out of the opening and I didn’t need Aka Manah to poke me this time.
I entered the dark tunnel, not knowing where to go so I stretched out my arms and let my fingertips skim against the sides. Hot to the touch. The pathway narrowed and descended sharply. Sweat built up on my forehead as the temperature increased substantially.
In complete darkness, I could still see the portal ahead. This one had a red glow to it, making it different from most of the ones I had previously encountered. I slowed down as I neared the portal and turned around.
Aka Manah planted two dainty hands on my chest and heaved me into the transfer unit.
A tight, constrictive feeling surrounded my entire body, ratcheting up the pressure by the second. I started to lose sensation in my extremities as the grip tightened. As I was about to pass out from the pressure, a flash of white light erupted, nearly blinding me.
The vise grip relented, and my body felt wonderful. I flickered my eyelids, trying to adjust to my surroundings. Firelight danced, its shadows creeping up the walls of the stone room I found myself in. I turned to my left and almost rubbed my nose on Aka Manah’s biceps.
I checked out the rest of the dimly illuminated room. A stone slab shaped like a rectangular table sat in the middle of the room. Two gentlemen (probably not the right word choice) sat facing me on the other side of the table. The devils, Bruceras and Montidore stared at me.
Bruceras gestured toward a row of chairs on the opposite side of the table. “Please, sit.”
The devil appeared to have a big reptilian body even though he was seated and garbed in red robes. The dark creature’s long neck and face were burgundy. Black lesions covered his cheeks and he had thirteen l
ittle spikes coming from his bald head.
I sat down in one of the chairs and Aka Manah took the one on my left. I scanned the room, searching for my father, but didn’t find the bastard. This had all the makings of a set up.
Montidore said, “You can relax. We aren’t going to kill you.”
Relieved blood didn’t exactly course through my veins. I wasn’t starting a habit of trusting devils, or demons for that matter. The unrelenting heat caused me to loosen the tie and unbutton the top button of my dress shirt.
Bruceras bit at his claws and spat the remnants to his right. “Believe it or not, we are going to help you.”
I smelled a rat. “The Red Cavern wants to help me? That makes no sense whatsoever.”
Montidore leaned forward over the table. He was much bigger than his fellow devil, especially in the upper body. The dark green demon had long white hair and a matching beard that hung to his chest. His deep yellow eyes were unnerving, to say the least. “Even if I were to tell you that we have a common enemy, rejected by the heavens and the hells?”
I said, “The Sendal Spirits.”
Montidore nodded in satisfaction. “Indeed. Commonalities connecting our virtues don’t oft exist. Do you know about your father?”
There it was. This was all a big set up. I craned my neck to see what area my father was coming from. Perked my ears up to hear his nasty voice.
I started to draw upon my magical reserve. “What about him?”
Bruceras scratched his face, and said, “He pledged his soul to the Sendals. He’s nothing more than flesh and bones. However, that flesh and bones carries an incredible amount of magic from within. Your father is getting stronger by the day. In less than a week, he will be virtually unstoppable.”
I commented, “That’s reassuring.”
Montidore grinned, “If you think we’re here to make you feel better, don’t flatter yourself. There’s a serious problem afoot, and we need you to get to the bottom of it.”
