Reaping Wind

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “Tristan, don’t,” Ezra said, shaking his head. “If you do anything with energy, you will be in a worse situation. Besides, he has a few moments before the pain begins.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, feeling the pressure around me increase. “Did you say pain?”

  “I did,” Ezra answered, pushing up his glasses to get a better look at me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Trapped?”

  “You can still speak, that’s good. It’s going to get uncomfortable in there in a few minutes. Before you ask, no, I can’t disable it.”

  “It’s uncomfortable now,” I answered, as my breathing became labored. “Are you sure you can’t stop this?”

  “I’m pretty sure, yes,” Ezra answered, grabbing a mug and pouring himself some coffee. “Looks like you forgot about the defenses. This is your life in a nutshell: act first, think later—or in your case—never. Being immortal doesn’t mean being a putz. Some situations require a gentle touch…finesse.”

  “Every…immortal I’ve encountered…has registered pretty high…in putzness,” I managed. “Present company excluded, of course.”

  “Of course,” Ezra said, raising his mug in my direction. “You may want to conserve your breath.”

  I was losing consciousness, but I wasn’t losing my mind. Insulting Ezra was never a good idea.

  “Have you met Simon?” Monty asked. “He’s not exactly familiar with the concept of finesse.”

  I groaned in response. The defenses were cutting off my air supply.

  “I get it,” I said with a gasp. “Gentle touch…finesse. Can we stop the hug of death, now?”

  Ezra shook his head again. “Actions have consequences,” Ezra said, holding up a hand, palm up, before turning it over. “You need to learn this. Feel it in your bones.”

  One of my ribs cracked. I grunted in pain and nearly blacked out. Sweat poured down my face, as heat flushed my body, dealing with the damage.

  Monty was about to gesture. I shook my head.

  “Don’t,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’ve got a firsthand feeling these defenses are stronger than you.”

  Monty slowly turned to Ezra. “Release him.”

  “Can’t,” Ezra answered with a shrug. “I wasn’t the one who trapped him.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Monty said, as my vision began tunneling in. “Whose defenses activated? These are clearly not mine.”

  Ezra pointed at me.

  “This is his fault,” Ezra said. “He knew about the defenses and chose to do something foolish and dangerous. Cause and effect.”

  “Is it going to kill him?” Monty asked, looking up at me. “He’s looking a little blue around the gills.”

  “It’s fifty-fifty,” Ezra said, shaking his hand. “Depends on him.”

  “Depends on him?” Monty asked, incredulous. “These are your defenses. How can their effectiveness depend on the person they’re acting upon?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Ezra said, peering up at me. “They seem to be pretty effective from down here.”

  “It’s killing him,” Monty said, gesturing. “Enough of this farce.”

  Monty unleashed a barrage of runes, and the room exploded in light.

  FOUR

  I opened my eyes to someone wiping my face with a pastrami-scented wet towel. Hellhound breath punched me in the nose as I shoved Peaches’ massive head away a few inches. I stood unsteadily, barely escaping another slobber bath. My body was still warm from dealing with the damage. I remembered Monty gesturing, and the room exploding in light and power.

 

 

 

  Frank and I were going to have some words in the near future. Violent ones.

  “What happened?” I asked, looking around. “Where’s Monty?”

  “Over here,” Monty answered with a groan from across the room. “Bloody hell.”

 

 

 

 

 

  I looked around the table and saw Ezra still sitting at the end, undisturbed. Whatever had just occurred in the room hadn’t even shifted the yarmulke on his head.

  “Sit,” Ezra said. “Now.”

  The menace emanating from those two words was enough to focus my attention laser sharp. Monty limped over as I took a chair at the other end of the table. If Ezra was going to go nuclear, I wanted to see it coming, even if I couldn’t do anything to prevent it.

  “Both of you are hopeless,” Ezra started, glancing at Monty. “Are you looking to end your life?”

  “Not intentionally, no,” Monty answered. “There was no need to cause Simon’s death.”

  “Oh? So you’re an expert on death all of a sudden?”

  “Well I—” Monty started, before thinking better of it and opting for silence. Smart move, considering who we were talking to. Monty had ventured into terra incognita without a map.

  “We’ll get to that in a moment,” Ezra said, turning to me. “Do you think immortals can’t die?”

  “Isn’t that kind of the point?” I asked, confused. “Immortals can’t die. That’s why they’re called immortals.”

  “The chutzpah on this one,” Ezra said, waving a hand. “That mouth is going to get you killed one day.”

  “I was just stating the obvious—”

  “Eventually, everything dies, Simon. Everything.”

  Ezra’s voice reverberated throughout the basement. I felt the waves of energy cascading from his end of the table. I realized the defenses didn’t react because this was Ezra’s passive energy, and it was off the charts.

  The only time I had sensed anything approximating Ezra’s level of energy, was when I faced a god—a pissed-off god. Even that experience paled in comparison. My stomach tied itself into knots, and Peaches whined under the table.

 

 

 

 

  Fear—real, visceral, gut-clenching, limbic-brain, flight-or-flight activating fear—filled the space. It grabbed me by the throat and slapped me across the face several times, just to get my attention. All I wanted to do was run out of Ezra’s, screaming.

  “It is a law of the universe,” Monty said, calmly. “Entropy is the only constant.”

  Monty didn’t appear like he needed to run out of the room, screaming in fear—probably, because he was the thing most beings feared when they encountered him. That, and I knew he had made peace with death long ago.

  “This way of being you two have,” Ezra said, pouring more coffee into his cup and dialing down the nimbus of fear, “will have serious ramifications if you continue down this path.”

  “Which path?” I asked. “We’re the ones being hunted and blamed for everything.”

  “Everything is connected, Simon.”

  “If you give us Ken’s butterfly effect theory, I will be ill,” Monty said. “We make our choices. Our lives are not a factor of causality.”

  Ezra shook his head. “I will provide you safe passage off the continent,” he said. “Once you arrive in Japan, you must fend for yourselves.”

  “Couldn’t you provide us safe passage—everywhere?” I asked. “I mean, you’re—”

  “Having the power and ability
doesn’t mean I can, or should, use it all the time,” Ezra answered. “I just explained it to you. Everything is connected. My use of power does not occur in a vacuum. With great power comes—”

  “Are you really going to Uncle Ben us?”

  “Seems like you would understand it better if I use simple concepts.”

  “It’s understood,” Monty said, getting up and dusting off his jacket. “We do appreciate your hospitality and advice, Azrael. We need to see Ursula.”

  “I think a visit to Ursula would solve your immediate travel needs and keep your presence hidden,” Ezra said with a nod. “At least until you arrive at your destination.”

  “Can you provide us with a circle?” Monty asked, prudently avoiding any more casting. “A direct teleport”—Monty glanced at me—“will mitigate some of the unpleasant effects for Simon.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a nod. “I’ll try to do that whole ‘thinking before acting thing’ you mentioned earlier.”

  “The odds of that actually occurring are astronomical,” Ezra said with a laugh. “But, never say never.”

 

 

 

  Peaches rumbled, letting out a soft bark at the end. Micro-tremors rocked the table.

  “You are welcome,” Ezra said, rubbing Peaches behind the ears. “Your bowl will always be waiting for you here.”

  “We’re ready,” Monty said. “Thank you for facilitating this meeting.”

  Ezra nodded, and a circle formed on the other side of the room. It was different from the circles I was used to; this one pulsed with red symbols, and vaguely resembled an oblivion circle.

  “That’s a teleportation circle?” I asked, warily looking at the angry symbols around its circumference. “Where does it lead?”

  Monty narrowed his eyes and examined the circle. After a few seconds, he nodded unconvincingly in my direction.

  “Seems to be safe,” Monty said, approaching it. “Don’t forget to call your creature, Simon.”

  “It should lead you to the DAMNED headquarters,” Ezra said, rubbing his chin. “Or”—he removed his glasses—“it may lead to the Dark Council headquarters. I forget which.”

  “You forget which?” I asked in disbelief. “The Dark Council is hunting us.”

  “I know,” Ezra said. “I do hope I got the right one. Would be a shame if I acted without thinking.”

  “I get it,” I said. “Another teaching moment. Let’s go, Peaches.”

  “Simon, if you pay attention,” Ezra said, right before I stepped into the circle, “you’ll discover that every moment is a teaching moment.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind as we rush headlong into obliteration,” I said.

  Even Death was more zen than me tonight. Peaches stepped into the circle, managing to do so without dislocating my hip. He sat next to Monty and me, giving Ezra another soft bark. This one didn’t set off tremors, thankfully, even though I almost lost hearing in one ear.

  “Of course,” Ezra said. “You know how to call me.”

  “I really hope he got the right circle,” I muttered. “Or this is going to be a short and painful teleport.”

  “Have a nice trip,” Ezra said, opening his book. “We’ll talk soon.”

  With a wave of his hand, the circle burst with red energy and we left Ezra’s basement.

  FIVE

  We arrived in a darkened open-plan loft. Judging by the view outside the large window wall, we were downtown somewhere. At first, I thought we were standing in some kind of abandoned factory. Most of the furniture was steel, or some variation of it.

  What threw me was the lack of an energy signature. Even null zones gave off some energy. Runes used to create the null effect, released a signature, but this place was sterile—a void.

  I didn’t understand why we were taking this detour. We had the Dark Council and Blood Hunters looking for us; speaking to some construction crew didn’t register high on my ‘let’s do this before we’re attacked’ list.

  The layout of the space was pretty simple; large living area dominated the center of the floor, with other areas situated around it like spokes on a wheel. I made out the kitchen, home office, training area, and a door I assumed led to a bathroom.

  All the appliances were modern and state of the art. The furniture was sleek, minimal and sturdy. In one of the far corners, surrounded by subdued lighting and several shoji screens, I noticed a floating platform. It took me a few seconds before I realized it was a Ruijssenaars magnetic floating bed.

  “This looks pretty cozy for a headquarters,” I said, looking around in the dim light. “You think Ezra got the circle wrong? Maybe he sent us to some upscale furniture store? That bed alone is priced stratospherically high.”

  “Unlikely,” Monty answered. “But you’re right, this is not DAMNED, unless they’ve downsized their base of operations.”

  “I wonder if I could sit on the bed?” I asked Monty as I made my way over to the corner. “This doesn’t look like any headquarters I’ve seen.”

  “That’s because it’s my home,” a woman said in the darkness, “not DAMNED HQ. You have two seconds before—Tristan? Tristan Montague?”

  “Hello, Ursula,” Monty said, turning around slowly. “I understand you wanted to see us?”

  “Initially, I wanted to pound you,” Ursula answered. “But that moment has passed. I thought you were part of something else. I put in the meeting request weeks ago. You just got it?”

  “The Dark Council has been…otherwise preoccupied, it seems.”

  “Typical bureaucratic red tape,” she answered, “with a supernatural twist.”

  “So, you no longer want to meet?” I asked. “Because I heard something about the damned, and I have questions.”

  Ursula was a tall, heavyset woman with short black hair, and the physique to match any Olympic powerlifter. She wore a white tank top and jeans, and down the length of one arm, I noticed an intricate pattern of runes. She closed the door behind her with a resounding clunk.

  Her presence commanded respect, probably due to the enormous, rune-covered hammer she hefted in one hand, which, after a tense moment, she dropped it on a side table, with a thud.

 

 

 

 

 

  Now I understood why all the furniture was made by U.S. Steel. That hammer would’ve crushed non-industrial furniture flat. Orange runes pulsed slowly on the hammer’s surface and handle as she made her way to a bank of switches on one of the walls.

  “I’d prefer not meeting in the middle of the night,” Ursula said, turning on some of the lights. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was just wondering the same thing,” I said. “It’s not like we can’t talk to the magical construction crew at another time. You know, when Esti and her psycho Hunters aren’t looking for us?”

  “Deconstruction,” Ursula corrected. “We don’t do construction. That’s the crew after we get done with the mess you two create.”

  “Deconstruction?” I asked. “What are you deconstructing?”

  “We’re Decons and Magical Nulls—Elite Division,” Ursula answered. “DAMNED. We safeguard the city’s nexus points, maintain the balance of runic energy to prevent destabilization, and remove any potentially lethal residual traces. Like entropy vortices.”

  “That was an emergency,” Monty said. “We were facing—”

  “Both times?” Ursula asked. “Seems like emergencies just follow the two of you around all the time.”

  “That explains the absence of an energy signature in here,” I said, glancing over
at Monty and trying to change the subject. “You’re a…magical null, right?”

  Magical nulls were beings immune to any kind of runic backlash. They could handle the most dangerous artifacts with no adverse effects. Most of the time, they were shifters of some sort. Monty explained that, in the past, nulls were used as artifact guardians. It also explained why Peaches said she smelled like a bear.

  “Correct,” she answered. “This is the part where you tell me how you managed to get past my defenses. Not even an Archmage can teleport in here. Explain.”

  “Ezra,” Monty said. “He created the circle.”

  “I see,” Ursula said, sitting on a stool near the kitchen counter. She extended a hand, and the hammer materialized next to her, on the counter. “Even I don’t have strong enough defenses to stop him. Don’t think anyone does.”

  “Why did you need to see us?” Monty asked. “If this is about downtown—”

  “No, I know that was you three—Hades, Cerberus and Tartarus,” she said. “Not to mention the DCE unleashing devastating amounts of energy. We’re still cleaning that up.”

  “Then?”

  “Someone or something, is systematically attacking and destroying nexus points in the city,” Ursula said, grabbing a Guinness from the kitchen. “It’s not your agency. I thought it was related to you, but it isn’t. This is different.”

  “Do you need our help?” Monty asked. “I’m sure we can offer some assistance.”

  “No, thanks,” Ursula said, raising her bottle. “I’m trying to solve this, not reduce the city to rubble. Your reputation is quite impressive—especially your hellhound, Peaches, is it?”

  “Yes,” I said, impressed. “How did you—?”

  “I have an affinity for animals, especially the ‘hard to kill’ kind.”

  She held out a hand, and Peaches padded over.