Dread Night (The Legacy Series)

by Ryan Attard

  I focused on Jeremy. I didn’t think I could have handled looking at the children.

  “Give me a moment,” I said.

  “What are you going to do?” asked the cop with a raised eyebrow.

  I grabbed the kid’s hand. “Take a very deep look.”

  Magic, just like electricity, needs a conductor. Most wizards just use a catalyst, like a crystal or the like, and channel magic through it to create an effect. It’s not the only way to cast a spell but it is the simplest and safest method. Usually, it’s an inanimate object. That way you can discard it if it breaks. There is a rule, though – do not use living beings, especially sentients like humans, as channels. It messes them up, forcing your magic, your very nature, onto another’s. The effects are usually a slight permanent change in their behavior, like a tick.

  There’s also the risk that your magic might awaken the other’s magic – and that isn’t always a good idea. Just look at Tobias and the mess he’s put us in.

  So, I took Jeremy’s hand and focused on feeling the energy inside the boy. Nothing. I was expecting a trace amount given his druid practices, but I suppose being part of a group doesn’t mean you’re good at what you do. Maybe Jeremy sucked at magic. That would be one reason why I saw nothing.

  Time to do the deed.

  I would probably be crucified if I was ever caught. On the other hand, I never really cared about rules, and the kid’s life was at stake. Screw the rules.

  My magic flared and slowly crept over the kid, like a viscous liquid. I felt no opposition or barriers – it was as if this kid was a hollowed out shell. There was no Core or magic. There was no soul.

  I pulled back immediately as soon as I felt the darkness. The chair I sat on was sent tumbling as the kids rose from their beds, ever so stiffly. I gently pushed Roland out of the way, and the both of us backed up.

  “Are you doing this?” he stammered.

  The kids walked unnaturally, like marionettes having their strings pulled.

  I focused my magical senses and saw them − three phantoms, masses of dark energy, one coiled around each child. Tendrils of darkness wrapped around their limbs, guiding their movements.

  “That’s not me,” I said.

  “How are they walking?” Roland’s hand reached for his weapon, and then he realized the kids were the victims and indecision made him freeze up. The man had no idea how to react.

  Not that I knew what to do.

  “Hey,” I tried. “Can you hear me? Jeremy?”

  The eldest boy cocked his head violently. His eyes were rolled over, exhibiting only the white, emotionless part.

  “Erik? Are they . . . zombies?”

  I was considering answering the question when an IV stand swung at my head. I dodged and the weight of the swing sent Jeremy tumbling. Instinctively, my fist shot out and I caught the back of his head with a back fist.

  As soon as I touched the kid, the phantom dissipated like smoke in wind.

  As I explained before, my magic is trapped within my body. Over the years I learned to focus that energy in different parts, especially whilst fighting. So, even a simple punch was charged with magic. That must have been what destroyed the phantom. The dark magic must have been quite weak to be countered by such a small amount of magic.

  Of course, it’s weak, Erik, said the inner voice. It was cast by some weak-ass kid. This case is a piece of cake.

  The two kids had a fire extinguisher between them and headed towards Roland. I laid Jeremy gently down, so he didn’t crack his skull open, and vaulted over the bed, landing behind the two children. Both my hands snapped forwards, hitting the back of their necks. I tried to be as gentle as possible but there had to be enough force to knock the dark magic out. This time I heard a faint screech as the two phantoms disappeared. I grabbed the kids’ shoulders and slowed their fall.

  Roland just stood there, eyes wide open.

  “What the fuck just happened?” he screeched.

  I placed one kid, then, the other, back on their respective beds.

  “Dark magic,” I replied. “Weak, but effective enough.”

  “So, the cause of their coma is dark magic?” hissed the cop. “You know I can’t put that mumbo-jumbo on the report.”

  I hoisted Jeremy up and Roland helped me place the teenager back in bed.

  “Just give me some time,” I said. Before he could complain I added, “You know just as well as I do that this is beyond what the police can handle. Just let me do my job.”

  He nodded, but his expression made it clear he didn’t like it. Let’s just hope I could solve this case without any more collateral damage.

  *****

  “Dreadnite.”

  Amaymon, Francis and I sat in a diner booth. The place had some people coming in and out and just enough noise to mask our conversation without hindering it.

  “Dre-what?” The club sandwich I was wolfing down made it impossible for me to properly hear Amaymon, let alone pronounce the word he said. The demon chomped on his burger and swallowed the bite whole.

  “Dreadnite. That’s the name this Tobias kid is goin’ by,” he said. “He’s already got a gang and everythin’. Controls ‘em all with some mind juju. Weak shit, but it works.”

  “Yes. That was his speciality,” added Francis. He quietly slurped on a smoothie and eyed the demon wearily. Maybe it was the way Amaymon was mutilating his burger. Or maybe it was the golden, feline eyes or the serrated, shark-like teeth.

  “What did you find on your end?” asked the demon.

  I recounted what happened at the hospital.

  “They had no souls,” I told Amaymon. “There was no magic, no spark, no Core.”

  “Did you say they had no souls?” Francis turned pale. “Tobias took their souls? Can he do that?”

  Amaymon belched and waved his hand around. “Hold your horses. The soul is what makes a person a person. It’s like your ethereal blueprints. The Core, the source o’ magic − that’s just one component of many. Ain’t nobody capable of stealin’ a whole soul – that just ain’t done.”

  He turned to me. “You said they ain’t got no Cores?” I nodded. “Well, then he musta figured out how to rip out a person’s magic source. And without their batteries in, they just powered down.”

  “Yeah, but this is just some kid in some dumb druid circle,” I spat. “Sorry, no offence,” I quickly apologized to Francis. He held his hands up. That kid is really tolerant.

  “We’re talking about some of the darkest magic out there. Surely a minor practitioner can’t just willy-nilly rip out souls?”

  “You humans all got potential for magic and ya’ll got power,” said Amaymon. “But it’s untapped, unfocused and unprotected. A sitting duck.”

  “That’s just scary,” muttered Francis.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Amaymon. “Once you start usin’ it, it gets harder to tamper with the Core. That and a strong will usually does the trick. This dude is using fear to chip away at their willpower."

  “But how? How is he doing it?” I asked. “The Core ain’t even real. It’s ethereal. Unless he can become a ghost or a phantom − ”

  That was it.

  All the clues, the pieces − they all just fell in place. It was simple, so obvious.

  “The phantoms,” I repeated.

  “What about them, Mr. Ashendale?” asked Francis.

  “It’s so obvious,” I said ecstatically. It’s not every day that I get bouts of genius – so I tend to enjoy them to the fullest.

  “You said Tobias uses fear, right? That’s what the phantoms are: fear incarnate. He probes their minds, gives the fear a form and the phantoms become the victim’s puppeteers. They’re not tough but they get the job done. That’s how he accesses the Core – the phantoms do it for him.”

  Amaymon licked his fingers, clicking his claws against his teeth.

  “Yeah, makes sense. But you’re not askin’ two very important questions.”

  “Which a
re?”

  He held up a moist finger. “Number one: how does he contain all ‘em souls? The Soul is life – energy given by Mother Nature or whoever. It’s the culmination of every stage of evolution leading to this point in time. That ain’t no small portion of energy – even though he’s only stealing a part of it. But he’ll still need a container, and a powerful one.”

  “If he’s only stealing magic from non-magical humans then the energy output will be small in and of itself,” I countered. “But you’re right, he needs some high-grade storage for that type of power.”

  I understood Amaymon’s point − it wasn’t how much energy was being stolen. Rather, what type. That’s what made your potential magic so dangerous – it could be a buzz, a nuclear explosion or anything in between.

  That’s why it’s called Potential.

  I looked at Francis, who sat quietly, altering his gaze from Amaymon to me.

  “We need to speak to someone who saw Tobias’s power and can still talk,” I said. “The first victim.”

  Francis nodded. “We have a gathering in two hours,” he said, checking his watch. “I’ll make sure Yasmine is there and ready to answer your questions.”

  He stood up, bowed curtly and left.

  “So,” I said. “Dreadnite, huh?”

  Amaymon smirked. “Yeah. Someone is still a virgin.”

  “Is that like ‘dread’ and ‘knight’?” I asked. “As in the medieval warrior?”

  “Nah. It’s ‘Dreadnite’. You know? With an ‘n’. Not ‘night’, but ‘n-i-t-e’. And it’s one word.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head disapprovingly. “I hate it when people play with words for commercial purposes.”

  Amaymon slurped his milkshake and smacked his lips happily. “God bless America.”

  I snorted cynically in response. “You said I was ignoring two important things,” I said, suddenly serious as we both got up to leave. “The first was how he is containing the Cores. What’s the other one?”

  Amaymon gave me a mischievous look. “Finally caught up to that, eh? Well, Mr. Commercial Name is collectin’ a crap load of Cores, right?”

  “Right.”

  His feline eyes narrowed. “But have you stopped to think exactly what he is going to do with all that power?”

  *****

  I was imagining a large, open area with trees or at least some plants.

  There was none of that.

  Well, sure, there was a row of potted plants, but as far as nature goes, the druid meeting place was quite scarce.

  Francis told me that his group was registered as a nature, tree-hugging, bird-watching, something or other, club at the school and that meant they had a room reversed for club meetings, even after school hours. It also helped that both his parents were on the PTA board and donated a fat check last Christmas.

  For that amount of money I would have thought they’d give him a proper room.

  Instead, he leads me to the music room, with instruments piled around a group of high-schoolers sitting in a circle. Oh, how the mighty druid has fallen.

  “Attention everyone.” They all put away their phones and stopped chatting. Francis sat with them. “This is Erik Ashendale,” he said. “A proper wizard. He’s here to observe our practices and make sure we are on the right track.”

  They all murmured in agreement.

  “Wait,” said one of them. “How do we know he’s a real wizard? Show us something.”

  I was expecting that. Everyone likes a show, especially when they don’t know what to expect. The closest these kids ever came to magic was a tingly feeling and maybe making a leaf green.

  Francis looked at me apologetically. “Perhaps you could demonstrate that fire ability you showed me.” He tried to mask his enthusiasm but I could tell he was just as eager to see a display of magic.

  “I can’t,” I replied. I pointed upwards. “Smoke detector. We’ll have the fire department here in ten minutes and your session would be ruined.”

  Their looks of disappointment were one of the most heart-breaking things I’d ever seen. “But I can show you something else.”

  I whipped my coat away and reached behind me. Attached horizontally to the back of my belt was a sheath of black combat polymer. My fingers curled around the hilt of a short sword and pulled it out. This weapon was as much a part of me as was my arm. It is something of a family heirloom and the only reason I can do magic. This weapon was the only thing on Earth that withstood my magic.

  I slipped my index finger in the ring that served as the weapon’s crossguard and my magic coursed through it. It’s double-edged blade glowed blue and I felt its familiar power resonate with me.

  Djinn − that was its name. The sword with a Jinn’s Core inside it. Hence the name.

  I tend not to get overly creative.

  The azure light bathed the music room. Most of the kids’ faces lit up, expressing awe and wonder. The one who asked for a demonstration was still not convinced.

  “Hmpf. That could be battery operated,” he said in a small voice.

  I pointed the sword at him and willed my intention into the sword. Djinn’s blade shot forwards, elongating to ten times its length. The azure blade shot past the boy’s face and the tip hit a cymbal behind him. The room fell silent, save for the sharp ring of metal against metal.

  “Can’t do that with batteries,” I said with a grin. I selected Djinn’s magic and the short sword reverted to its original state.

  “Don’t try this at home, kids,” I said as I sheathed the weapon and covered the handle with my coat. No need to have weapons sticking out – the police tend to not like that.

  The kids began applauding. I actually blushed.

  Amaymon had gotten a triangle and kept flicking his claws against it – making a very annoying sound.

  “Wow. You never got applauded before,” he remarked.

  “And who are you?” asked a girl.

  Amaymon’s yellow eyes met hers and she recoiled. He threw away the triangle over his shoulder and it landed with a loud clatter. He knelt in front of her and bared his teeth, inches away from her face.

  “I’m the type o’ guy your mamma warned you against.”

  “Knock it off,” I said as I slapped the demon on the head.

  “Just tryin’ to have some fun,” he moaned as he got up and rubbed the spot where I hit him.

  “Behave yourself,” I berated. He extended his tongue and went to look for his triangle.

  “Sorry about him,” I said to the kids. “Please, carry on.”

  *****

  Two hours.

  That’s how long I stood in that damn music room watching twelve high schoolers each chanting in front of a plant, trying to make it blossom or in front of a candle, trying to manipulate the flame. There were one or two that had the tiniest shred of power but for most of the time, it was like watching paint dry.

  Two hours of my life – gone.

  I was ready to leave an hour and fifty-nine minutes ago but the prospect of solving a case kept me there.

  Finally, they all packed up and left, leaving only Francis and a very pretty girl standing there with us.

  “Mr. Ashendale, this is Yasmine,” introduced Francis. “You said you wished to speak with the first victim.”

  “I do,” I replied. “I’m going to need you to tell me exactly what happened with Tobias,” I said to the girl.

  It was hard to believe she was a high schooler. With that flowing light-brown hair, pixelated face and a figure that I’m pretty sure was designed by Victoria’s Secret, no wonder the psycho kid was after her.

  Heck, I was questioning some laws at the moment, too. That is, until I heard her talk.

  She gave me a look and turned to Francis. “So, what is he, like a cop? He’s creeping me out.”

  Teenagers – nature’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

  Francis seemed to be expecting her attitude. “He’s the only one who can stop Tobias.”

  She c
rossed her arms. “I don’t want him stopped. I want him to pay.”

  “And that’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” said Amaymon. He flashed her a toothy smile. “But we gotta figure out how he does it. Once we figure out a weakness, that jackass is toast.”

  She eyed him wearily.

  “OK, fine,” she said finally. “The freak came up to me after we were done and put his icky hands on me. I pushed him away and he got angry. It was scary and creepy – the way he kept saying he could have whatever he wanted. When I told him to shove off he said something weird and . . .”

  She touched her hair and rubbed her forehead.

  “And what?” I asked gently.

  Her eyes flashed in fear. “He did something to me, something to my head. I felt afraid of everything and I kept seeing the worst memories of my life replaying over and over again. Then, I saw it − it was like a ghost or something. It was stuck to me.”

  She paused, trying to repress those memories.

  “Anyway, that’s when Jeremy stepped in. Once he talked to Tobias, the ghost and mental stuff disappeared. Tobias got even creepier and he threatened to make Jeremy suffer. He said he’ll take what is most precious to him, to all of us. That we would all bow down to him.”

  Amaymon leaned in. “He must have meant the Cores.”

  “Don’t forget the two kids,” I added. “They were Jeremy’s family.” I turned to the girl. “Did he say how he meant to make you bow to him?”

  She crossed her arms. “I don’t know. I was too busy trying not to pass out from creepiness. Anyway isn’t it like your job to figure it out?”

  “Kids these days,” remarked Amaymon. He eyed Yasmine like a cat eyes a mouse.

  “But I can see why you attract freaks − pretty lil’ piece of jail bait like you. How old are you?”

  Her expression twisted into one of utter disgust. “I’m sixteen.”

  The demon turned to me. “Is that underage law thing still on?”

  “Yes!”

  “Damn.” He shot Yasmine a toothy smile and she visibly recoiled. I slapped his head again.

  “Thank you for your help, Yasmine,” I said.

  “Can I leave now?” she replied.