This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Pyx’s Tale:
A Vow Delayed
BROOKMOORS MAGI 1.5
A Short Story
First Edition. April, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 by James T. Callum.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Written by James T. Callum
Disclaimer
Thank you for signing up to my newsletter! Before we dive into the story, a word of caution: While this story is entirely capable of being viewed on its own without having read the first Brookmoors Magi book: Sylvie Asleton and the Shrike’s Curse, it does contain some spoilers for the first book.
This story focuses on the events roughly halfway through the first book, following Sylvie’s new friend Pyx.
Whether you want to pause a moment and go get the first book here: http://bit.ly/brookmoors or continue reading is up to you. Enjoy!
Pyx’s Tale:
A Vow Delayed
Pyx twisted the throttle of her bike and with a cough of dragon’s fire shooting out the twin tailpipes, zipped away from the depressing tenement where Sylvie lived. She snickered to herself, remembering the way Sylvie had freaked when she brought even a fraction of her motorcycle’s speed to bear. That girl could scream.
She felt a little bad leaving her there. Should she have gone up and helped her pack? She didn’t want to be clingy. But it nagged at her all the same. She couldn’t outrun the thoughts, no matter how irresponsibly fast she pressed the bike’s engine.
I’ll give her some space. Who wants somebody watching them pack their panties anyway?
Her bike whipped through traffic. Now that Sylvie wasn’t freaking out behind her she could weave through the congestion without stopping. Poor girl would have had a heart attack if she was with her.
It only took her about fifteen minutes to get home. She tossed the keys to the valet and shot him a wink. She flicked her hair back and went into the lobby. The elevator ride up to her apartment was blessedly private.
The decadence of her penthouse never really sat well with her. There was nothing inherently wrong with it. In fact she adored the open air design. The patios that wrapped around with tall green hedges providing privacy from nearby buildings.
And the view.
As much magic as Pyx had seen, the view was stellar. From the first floor she could see the sunrise over the East River, and from the upper deck she could view the sunset over Central Park and the New York skyline.
What did make her uneasy was that she didn’t need to pay for it. Most of the things she had were gifts, given freely and sometimes anonymously because of her bloodline. She was an Enferri, the child of a Succubus and a Magi. It gave a unique disposition that few understood, herself included. As far as she could tell, Enferri were able to perform something like passive magic.
She was able to utilize her natural alluring charm and magnify it tenfold without lifting a finger or uttering a syllable. It simply happened. Humans were notoriously vulnerable to the subtle magic. When she wanted to be left alone, she found people veering out of her way like on the sidewalk on Park Avenue with Sylvie.
Sylvie wasn’t affected obviously, she was a Magi whether she believed it or not. Pyx still couldn’t believe she was a Witness. How unlikely was it that the first Magi she met that hadn’t scorned her turned out to be as rare a creature as she was?
It only made her like the girl more.
Pyx sauntered into the foyer, kicking off shoes as she went and headed to the spacious kitchen. All glass, polished concrete, and stainless steel. Very modern.
Boxes of donuts, pastries, and a wide variety of sweets of all sorts were arrayed out on the island that bisected the kitchen. She looked out over the living room, one of them anyway she could never get the exact names of each room right, and out into the New York skyline.
She took a whole box of Krispy Kreme donuts and shoveled them away as she made her way towards the wrap-around couch facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. The glass coffee table held a wide bowl made from some exotic wood, but it was the contents that drew her eye.
Within were several thick envelopes of varying color and with wildly different wax seals, coat of arms, and crests. She had already polished off four donuts by the time she made it to the white pillowy cushions of the sofa.
Pyx popped each of her glaze-slicked fingers into her mouth, cleaning them one by one. She transferred the opened box to the table, pushing aside the emptied pastry boxes and tub of ice cream to make room.
Once more she took each of the letters and looked at them. Unlike most Magi, she had options. No less than seven esoteric schools of magic and non-human studies had sent her invitations. She picked up Le’Simleur’s bone-white parchment envelope with its glittering green wax seal.
She’d been tempted to go to France to study. It seemed almost too perfect, almost a little racist too. An alluring creature going to the french countryside to study magic, second only to Windhollow.
I mean, who wouldn’t want to go to a monster hunting school? That’s totally badass.
But in the end she hadn’t gone with them either.
It was Brookmoors Academy of Sorcery and Invocation that she had settled on, though she had promised herself that if she failed the exam she’d go to her safety school. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to have no options. To have everything riding on such a silly little test.
Poor Sylvie.
She wondered again if she should have taken her along. She could have gotten her some properly fitting clothes, a whole makeover. But she probably would not have accepted, much less taken the suggestion well. There was a fierce pride in that girl that Pyx simply couldn’t unravel.
Most people were open books to her, so it was odd to come across somebody she couldn’t read at a glance, much less after spending some time with. She was…interesting.
Pyx polished off the rest of the donuts and chased it down with a pint of strawberry ice cream. Her unique, sugary diet wasn’t something she thought much of anymore, but it freaked people out to see what she ate. Then the inevitable jealousy when they realized she ate literal sugary trash with no (human) nutritional value and she could keep her svelte figure.
It wasn’t her fault her food was awesome and delicious.
The penthouse was empty. As its sole occupant she’d gotten used to the quiet. The hustle and bustle of New York below was silenced by whatever modern ingenuity the humans had put in place. She could only hear it once she went out to the patio. The recent rains made little puddles on the flat stone slabs of the patio.
She didn’t really have anything to do. Her things were already packed. All her usual gear would be kept in the penthouse for now; she didn’t need it where she was going.
With a stretch, Pyx removed the glamour on herself. It wasn’t like she was expecting any visitors anyways. And if anybody did show up unannounced, it probably wouldn’t be a human.
The glamour fell off top to bottom, as was usual. It felt like a soothing tickle, a strange but pleasant sensation. The glamour muted the sensation of her non-human aspects, like wearing earmuffs over your ears. She could sense with them, but it was a pale comparison.
Her horns met the open air and she could see their slightly curved blackened tips sticking out of her pale silvery hair in the reflection of the window. She smiled at herself and gave a wink. Her silvery tail whisked out from behind her and she let out a sigh of relief. It was slender,
as wide as two of her fingers side-by-side and covered in short silken silver hairs that glinted like fresh snow.
It’s good to be myself, she thought.
It was more than merely cosmetic, her horns allowed her to tap into people’s emotions on a whole other level. Her tail, well her tail was just cool as shit. She loved it.
Whenever she went to a con she was the center of attention, a veritable shoe-in if she ever deigned to enter the costume contest. Furries would hound her about how she made it or who designed it and cosplayers weren’t far behind them.
Pyx idly traced a heart in the glass and turned away, tossing the letters back into their bowl.
She made her choice.
Before she could go take a shower and check her things, the open air fireplace turned on and a green flame roared to life.
Can’t a girl have some peace and quiet?
Stepping out of the flames was a well-dressed young man of indeterminate age. He had on an expensive suit, the jacket hung on his shoulders like a cloak. She’d recognize that cocky grin anywhere.
“Please, come in Hyuul,” she said. “Track soot all over my floors. Why don’t you just knock like a normal person?”
He snickered, flashing his golden irises floating in a pool of darkness. “Now where would the fun be in that?”
Pyx leaned her butt against the back of the couch and crossed her arms.
She waited. He waited. It was an old game. He had something to say, or propose to her and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of asking why he was there. He’d get to it in his own time once he realized she wasn’t up for playing his game.
She didn’t have to wait long.
“I need a favor, Pyx.”
“And I’d like my family back,” she said with more bitterness than she intended, “I guess we’re both gonna need to get used to not having what we want.”
He flinched as if she struck him. She couldn’t help it, every time she saw him it was like picking at an old wound that wouldn’t heal.
“Listen,” he said softly, “You weren’t the only one who lost loved ones. You know, I’m sorry.” He hung his head and spoke to the floor. “How many times do you need to hear it?”
She crossed the room in a blur of speed and before either of them realized it she had his fine, expensive shirt in her fists raising him off his feet. Her usually smiling and charming features twisted with pain and loss, and most of all rage.
Hyuul stared into her eyes, a blazing ring of gold to her deep cobalt-blue. He said nothing, didn’t even struggle. She paused a moment, collecting herself. She counted out three slow breaths, holding him aloft was easy. Effortless. Like most Stellum, she was physically stronger by orders of magnitude than any human.
“Until my family is whole again,” she said through gritted teeth. A tear traced down her cheek. It felt like it burned her skin. She set him back down on his expensive Testoni-clad feet. Pyx raised a single finger to his face. “You have one minute to explain why you’ve darkened my home.”
To his credit he didn’t bother trying to smooth out his rumbled white shirt. The outburst had startled him. As well it should have. She wasn’t prone to emotional outpours like that.
“There’s a Rathborn,” he said slowly, letting the information sink in through the anger that was practically visible around her like a dark halo. “In New York, Chinatown in fact if my sources are correct.”
Pyx motioned for him to continue. She went to the kitchen to get a soda, emphatically not offering him one. She popped off the bottle cap, watching him lay it all out without a single word.
Hyuul had done his research. That much told her he was at least serious about it, and explained why he was there for her help, though he hadn’t gotten around to that just yet.
Rathborns were rare, vicious little beasties. As babies they looked like rhinos, cute and adorable and totally illegal. Unfortunately, for whatever exotic animal trader was dealing with them, their adolescent years were brutal. They started spitting gouts of flame, what you’d assume was a growing horn was actually a piece of keratinized flesh that turned into a sharp ridge as hard as steel and designed to gore through creatures with far tougher skin than you’d find on the African Serengeti.
Eventually they were either dumped off or killed their captors and went wild.
A Rathborn in a city could cause a lot of damage. They weren’t nice, and if their wings started to come in good luck. Without magical armaments you’d need something capable of punching through a tank once they progressed to that stage.
Most importantly, Rathborns were a two-man job.
“Are you sure your info is good?”
Hyuul had the good graces to look abashed.
“This isn’t like Singapore, I promise.” He placed a hand over his heart. “Please, Pyx. You know I wouldn’t come to you unless I needed the help. This is the last Contract. I’m done after this. Will you help me, one last time? I’ll do it without you if I must.”
Pyx sighed. “You’ll die.”
He only shrugged. Hyuul was proud, he wouldn’t beg her. Hell, using the word ‘please’ meant he was dead serious. He really would go out there on his own if she turned him down.
She eyed him closely, looking for any sign not to help him. His long black hair was tied back in a ponytail. Thick black horns sprouted from his forehead and curved to point towards the ceiling. Like all other Enferri she knew he was drop-dead gorgeous. He always bragged he had a little Elven in him.
Unlikely. Everybody knew Elvenkind were as rare as altruism on Wall Street. Rarer.
“I need to get my gear.” She gave him an appraising look. “You should change.”
Hyuul’s chuckle chased her into her room. She shut it out by closing the door a little harsher than she needed.
The bedroom was littered with dirty clothes and candy wrappers that announced themselves with an obnoxious crinkle as she crossed to the walk-in closet. Half of the room was dedicated to clothing in her usual eclectic style. The other half held her gear. The hangars and racks cleared away, replaced with mounts on the wall.
Her coal-black blouse and ripped jeans were the sort of thing you’d see an idiotic character in some air-headed teen movie wearing when they went out to fight monsters.
That’s how you died.
Assuming you were skilled enough to avoid getting hurt was the sort of things that won you a Darwinism Award. Real Hunters knew the dangers and dressed appropriately. She had to admit, she missed the life a little. But that life had vanished the day her mother was killed.
Pyx ripped down the leathers and changed into her Hunter’s attire. Dressed in knee-high black leather boots, tight leather pants a silken chainmail shirt beneath a steel-gray biker’s jacket with silver-steel plates on the arms and shoulders she felt more powerful than she had in years.
It scared her. Her Hunting days were over. She was helping a friend, nothing more.
Even still, a chill of anticipation ran through her that she could not deny. Her jacket was uncannily light. There was one last thing she needed.
Her heirloom.
With shaking hands she reached out to the ridiculously long blade mounted reverently on the wall in its blue and gold sheath. A rush of power flooded her veins as she took it down and affixed it to the straps on the back of her jacket.
It was her mother’s blade, Gongoran.
When she came out Hyuul had taken her suggestion to heart. He was dressed in a mixture of leathers, banded dark plates, and Kevlar. Like her, the only skin visible on him was his face.
They needed their horns free of all obstruction.
She pulled out the thin twin diamond shape of her eye mask and placed it on her face. It looked ridiculous, like something a super heroine would wear but the magicks imbued within were too valuable to pass up. The least of which was its ability to project a seamless barrier around her eyes, preventing blood, ichor, and a variety of nasty fluids and damage to her eyes.
It
was surprising just how many monsters went for the eyes first and with uncanny accuracy.
“You should get the new version,” said Hyuul, tapping his cheekbone. There was a thin ripple of light that outlined his mask. It faded back to invisibility a moment later. “You look less like you’re going to a super hero convention.”
Pyx shrugged. “This is the last time I’ll be wearing this anyways.” She motioned to the front door. “I assume you’ve got a car waiting?”
They could have taken the flame-network. There was at least two in Chinatown that Pyx knew of, but that would defeat the point of using the tracker Hyuul had set up. Magical interference and all that. Sidestepping spacetime had its drawbacks.
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