Judgement - Legacy Book 4 (Legacy Series)

by Ryan Attard

  I looked at the chimera struggling to rip my head off. Shadows wrapped around its neck.

  “You’re big,” I said, “but nothing compared to Lilith’s Alpha. Or Leviathan. Compared to those guys, you are painfully weak.”

  To prove my point, I elongated Djinn, creating a massive broadsword of azure energy and swung it from beneath the chimera…

  Cutting it in half.

  The monster let out a pathetic whelp and both of its halves fell on opposite sides, like an open sandwich, before evaporating into black mist.

  “The first rule when engaging an unknown enemy,” I told the flabbergasted Necromancer, “is to hold back. Play the dumb card, and let the enemy reveal their tricks.” I twirled Djinn. “I faced monsters, real monsters. Did you really think a little Necromancy could ever match up with the power of gods and monsters older than the world itself? Get real.”

  I looked at Greg’s unconscious figure next to Amaymon.

  “It’s a good thing he’s knocked out,” I said. “Thanks for that. Now he can’t report to his pals exactly just how powerful Amaymon and I truly are. Sure, they know we’re strong, but humans always need to quantify shit. This way they can’t know our limits, and that gives us the advantage.”

  I pointed at the Necromancer. “And thanks to your big mouth, now I know how your magic works. Real Necromancy requires a living person, isn’t that what you said? Makes sense. Life, death, rebirth — it’s the cycle of life, the law of conservation of energy. Call it whatever you want. Point is, you’re pulling off your magic thanks to your blood.”

  Shadows shot from my body. Six spears of darkness pierced the Necromancer. I made sure to avoid any vital organs.

  When the shadows retreated, blood began gushing down from the Necromancer.

  “Using your own blood as a catalyst,” I said. “Let me be the first to tell you how bad an idea that is. I speak from experience. Sure, the magic is strong, but you got several weaknesses. Like, for example, when you get stabbed and your supply starts running low mighty fast.”

  “Help me,” he croaked from the ground. He still held onto the Necronomicon, blood soaking it.

  “You got two options,” I went on, ignoring him. “Try something stupid and bleed out as a result. Or let go of the book. Relinquish it, and lie very still.” I cocked my head at his wounds. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

  He wasn’t in any imminent danger — I purposefully chose areas in the human body which hurt a lot and bleed profusely but it was nothing a few stitches and painkillers wouldn’t fix.

  But he didn’t need to know that.

  The Necromancer started sobbing, slobbering into his own blood. “Take it,” he said, pushing the book away from him. “I give up. I don’t wanna die.”

  The Necronomicon exploded with power, its malignant force raging out of control, more wrathful than before.

  “Stop it,” I yelled. “Stop before you bleed out.”

  “This isn’t me,” he cried. “Help me.”

  “The book,” Amaymon said. “It’s taken over him.”

  “Help me!” screamed the Necromancer.

  The book’s magic doubled and swallowed the Necromancer — not metaphorically.

  One inch at a time, the Necromancer’s body was eaten by the Necronomicon until he was completely swallowed in.

  “That’s new,” I said.

  The Necronomicon’s magic did not recede.

  “Any ideas?” I asked Amaymon.

  “Smash it?” he suggested.

  “Tried that. Didn’t work.”

  “Then I’m out,” he said.

  I grimaced at the book.

  “It wants to feed,” I said. “It needs a host. Which means it’s alive somehow. It must be using the Necromancer as its essence, so it pulled him inside to protect its battery.”

  “Erik, what are you thinking?” Amaymon asked.

  “Something very stupid,” I said.

  I grabbed the Necronomicon and forced it open. “You wanna eat someone?” I yelled at it.

  Death magic surged from within it.

  “Then eat this.”

  I forced my shadow magic inside it. Instantly, it was swallowed by the book. I gave it more. The book’s hunger pulled me closer and closer, and I let it swallow me.

  Chapter 29

  I woke up inside the Necronomicon.

  A wet sensation covered every inch of my body, immediately followed by heat and fire — not exactly the two things I’d associate with the word ‘book’.

  A canopy of red sludge filled my field of vision. The walls and ceiling pulsated, red goop squirting from the organic-looking substance they were made out of. The rush of the river was loud. I looked down — my feet were ankle-deep in running blood.

  That was when I saw my body for the first time.

  Black and obsidian, with veins of red and orange, like running magma beneath a volcano. I looked at my hands and saw claws instead of digits. At the centre of my chest, my heart pulsated yellow and orange, burning like a miniature sun.

  I felt powerful, sure of every breath, every decision, every move.

  I was power personified.

  I was Dark Erik.

  Or at least that was what I called him. The manifestation of my subconscious, the avatar of my hidden powers, a curse I inherited from my family eons ago.

  But this guy existed only inside my head, inside my subconscious.

  I connected the dots. Inside the Necronomicon was an alternate dimension, with the same frequency as what is commonly known on Earth as the ‘Thought Plane’.

  Which meant this was not the real world.

  I looked around me, hearing for the first time the cry of souls as they slithered over the flesh walls like ectoplasmic spiders. The river of blood. The little peaks between the pulsating borders of the walls and ceiling, revealing beyond them light, darkness and Chaos — windows into the Unknown, and whatever lay within it.

  No, this was not reality, or Hell, or Heaven, or anything with actual substance.

  This was Limbo.

  I heard tangible splashing, as something solid walked towards me. Walked — which meant it had mass and a physical form.

  It was human.

  Or rather, it was once human.

  The Necromancer loomed into view, drenched from head to toe in blood. His eyes black as night and lifeless.

  “Welcome,” he said in a rasp that showcased his madness.

  “You’re not him,” I replied. Steam emitted from my mouth with every word I spoke.

  The Necromancer cocked his head.

  “Yes and no,” he said. “I am him, much like you are you. But you are more, as am I.”

  “Start making sense,” I said.

  I reached back for Djinn and found nothing.

  Of course. My subconscious had no need for weapons. Or clothes for that matter.

  Don’t worry, I didn’t feel self-conscious about my nudity — kinda hard to feel self-conscious when you’re made out of black stone and there’s literal fire pulsating through your veins.

  “I am the Necromancer’s ambition,” the Necromancer said. “I am the thirst for power, the desire to transcend death.” He looked around. “And this is my current domain.”

  Blood rose like a tidal wave and swept me away. I was buried in blood, drowning in it.

  “Give in,” came the Necromancer’s voice, as clear as if he were standing next to me. “Give in, human.”

  The blood became heavier. I felt myself being pushed deeper into the river. Souls and monsters reached out for me, and I knew as soon as they touched me, it was game over. I struggled but the pressure from above was too much.

  One of the hands reached me and immediately recoiled. Souls began screaming at me, running away or snapping with anger.

  Of course. My power is Life Magic. The opposite of this domain, Death.

  I was the only one alive in the realm of the dead.

  Shadows, fire and magic burst from me, and
the blood evaporated. I climbed to my feet. The fleshy substance beneath my feet cracked and sizzled, cooked to a crisp, jet-black plank.

  Life Magic repelled the enclosing flesh walls and the streams of ectoplasmic souls. I felt the Necromancer struggling to control the environment and force me back but my power was too great, too focused.

  A tangible aura of power emanated from beyond the shadows exploding from my body, tearing the Limbo world asunder for a split second — enough to sever the Necromancer’s connection to it and send him stumbling on the ground.

  He got to his knees and regurgitated blood and blackness. The Necronomicon’s foul influence left him and when he looked up, he was himself again: a power-hungry coward.

  “What are you?” he whimpered.

  I wrapped him in shadows and brought him closer. “I’m complicated.”

  My shadows extended towards the fabric of the room, searching.

  Searching for cracks in the seams, for traces of magic, for the tiniest of openings.

  I found it, just an echo of a small portal, the spell that brought me and the Necromancer to this world. That was our way home.

  I focused my influence on it, opening the portal for just the briefest of moments and threw both myself and the Necromancer through it.

  We transferred through Chaos space and my mind was assaulted — but not by the Necronomicon’s defenses. This was something different: it was almost as if I was watching the machine at work, peeking beneath the hood.

  Life and Death. The cycle, the only cycle that ever mattered, and I was looking at it, momentarily enlightened.

  I felt my brain slowly tearing apart and forced myself to close my eyes and push ahead. Knowledge of that caliber was not for my eyes. I was just human and there was such a thing as knowing too much. I was not equipped to deal with that knowledge, and I knew exactly where being greedy lead to.

  So I closed my eyes, ignoring the knowledge around me, resisting the temptation to take a peak, to learn how to bypass death, for myself and others.

  No, I was just human.

  That was enough.

  We were spat out into reality.

  A gush of blood rushed out with us, before the portal was snapped shut. After vomiting us out, the Necronomicon snapped shut, once again dormant.

  I released the Necromancer from my grip. My shadows told me his brain was unresponsive, damaged by the book’s influence. He’d probably end up in a coma for a few years.

  Shit. No one deserved that.

  My brain buzzed, still erratic from having been through the precipice of life and death. A speck of knowledge had made it through, and my brain was struggling to forget it. Blood trickled from my nose.

  This was not something my healing magic could repair — knowledge was meant to be used.

  Because only then it could be assimilated, decoded, and hopefully forgotten.

  I approached Greg. Might as well put it to use, while it lasted.

  Amaymon wordlessly lowered the earth dome protecting his unconscious body and I knelt down beside him. My shadows had all but disappeared and I willed the last dregs into my hand.

  A ball of black swirled in my palm.

  Slowly, I lowered it into Greg’s chest, imbuing him with Life Magic, healing his wound and restoring the life force that the Necromancer had taken from him.

  Greg’s eyes snapped open and the Kresnik sat upright.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  I smiled. “We won.”

  He stood up, gingerly. “I can see that.” His eyes fell on the comatose Necromancer. “Is he..?”

  “No,” I replied. “But he suffered major brain damage. The book’s influence was too much for him.”

  “We need to get him medical attention immediately,” Greg said.

  “Agreed.”

  Greg picked up his spear and looked at the Necronomicon as if it were made out of the plague.

  I casually walked up next to him and, to his horror, picked it up.

  “Doesn’t affect me,” I said. “I beat this thing.”

  He nodded and pulled out a large crimson handkerchief. Golden sigils were embroidered on it, a spell to bind the Necronomicon.

  “Please hand it over, Erik,” he said.

  I grinned. “You know, I think I’ve got a better idea.”

  I tossed the book over my shoulder. Greg watched it sail across the room and bolted after it…

  But not before Amaymon caught it. His jaw unhinged impossibly wide, and swallowed the Necronomicon whole.

  “What did you do?” Greg grabbed the demon by his shirt. “Give it back.”

  Amaymon grinned and shoved the Kresnik, sending him tumbling backwards. Then, he leaned back and let out a mighty belch that shook the ground.

  “Sorry dude,” he said. “That thing’s gone by now.”

  Greg snarled at me. “You gave the Grigori your word.”

  “And you held my apprentice hostage,” I shot back.

  Greg lowered himself into a fighting stance, his spear at the ready. “I will not allow myself to be your pawn.”

  “Nobody asked you to.”

  “What?”

  I pointed at Amaymon.

  “He didn’t destroy the book,” I explained. “Right now, you precious Necronomicon is somewhere underground, anywhere between here and New York. You ain’t gonna find it with all the shovels in the world.” I smiled sweetly at the Kresnik. “Unless, I tell him to bring it back up, of course.”

  Greg’s eyes narrowed and he lowered his spear. “What do you want?”

  “For my life not to suck,” I replied. “But since that ain’t happening anytime soon, I’ll settle for leverage. Now, you guys have to play the game by my rules. That means I set the ground for negotiations.”

  “That makes no sense,” Greg said. “You gain no advantage by doing this.”

  “On the contrary, dear Greg,” I replied. “I gain a lot. See, now I understand why you didn’t let me destroy the book when I had the chance. You guys want this, bad. And if you want something that is so dangerous, so volatile — well, that tells me you’re anticipating something twice as bad.”

  I cocked my head at him. “And that anticipation means you’re scared. So go ahead and call my bluff. Kill Abi, and Gil, and anyone I care about. That gets you half a dozen corpses. But something tells me the Grigori — Jared included — would rather lick my man bits to get the book back, than have to face whatever is coming without it.”

  Greg burst out laughing. Not a fake laugh, like he was trying to distract me. This was from the heart.

  The guy was actually cracking up.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not the one who makes the rules, even though I get a say in the matter. To be perfectly blunt, this was Jared’s idea, and none of us like him very much.” He grinned. “I am simply enjoying the vision of him licking your… man bits.”

  He dismantled his spear and tucked it inside his case.

  “Come on then,” he said, walking away from the scene and down the mountain. “Let us go negotiate.”

  I looked at Amaymon, who shrugged. He picked up the comatose Necromancer and hoisted him over his shoulder as if the man weighed no more than a bag of candy.

  “Plan worked,” he said.

  “Yep.”

  Our plan did work. Success: what a new and rewarding sensation.

  I could get used to it.

  Chapter 30

  “Honey, I’m home!”

  I looked around warehouse four again, only to find no one there. I lowered my arms and wiped the smug grin off my face, before turning to Greg.

  “Where is everybody?”

  Greg knelt down and drew a sigil on the ground. He murmured something and pressed his index finger inside the symbol.

  Light flashed and suddenly the warehouse became populated: Berphomet was the closest, his arms crossed but the revolver in his hand at the ready.

  Directly behind him, Jared emerged from a giant SUV, stretchi
ng and yawning.

  His hair still looked perfect.

  Asshole.

  Akasha was sitting on an armchair, sipping something from a mug. I caught a whiff and nearly gagged.

  Next to her, Abi and Gil sat around a small, round table, with Mephisto hovering silently behind them.

  Abi lowered the poker cards on the table.

  “Flush,” she said. “I win.”

  Gil sighed and handed Abi a folded piece of paper, which the apprentice took with glee.

  “The hell…” They all turned to look at me.

  Abi jumped from her seat and bounded towards me, stopping only when Berphomet cocked his revolver, the menacing sound stopping her in her tracks.

  “Hey, Erik,” she said.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “You’re been gone for hours,” she replied. “We had to make the time pass somehow.”

  “So you’re all chummy with my sister now?”

  “She’s the only one I know here,” Abi replied. “Did you expect me to play poker with the guy who abducted me? Or perhaps the girl you dated for a single evening before she turned out to be using you?” She grinned at my expression. “Besides, we were just trading secrets: I win, I get a spell. She wins, I give her a beauty tip.”

  Gil looked at me self-consciously. “Glad you’re back safe, brother.”

  Her eyes sidelined.

  “Greg,” she said, blushing slightly.

  I looked at the Kresnik.

  “Remember what I told you in the car,” I growled undertone. “I’ll cut it off.”

  “Yes, yes.” His tone was about as convincing as a teenager saying they will voluntarily clear their room.

  Akasha drained her mug and set it down on the ground before getting up from her armchair.

  “Glad you made it out alive,” she said. “Where is the Necronomicon?”

  “Straight to it, huh?” I said. “Do you want the long version or the short version?”

  Akasha glared at me. “Get on with it, Erik.”

  “Not so fun when you’re the one being toyed with, huh?”

  “What can I say? I’m more of an on-top girl,” she replied. “Now, where is the Necronomicon?”