by Oliver Mayes
“Build the Soul Well. Now.”
With a low moan, Noigel rose to his feet and dragged himself over to the rocks that littered the floor. They were almost as big as he was. It looked like hard work. Damien knew time was of the essence, but as far as he was concerned this was time well spent. When Noigel picked up the rock, a timer had appeared above the empty loading bar. An hour until completion. Bartholomew gave the exercise his seal of approval.
“You’re going to be a fine occultist.”
“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess. So, what does the Soul Well do?”
“The Soul Well tethers minions to your lair. You must first collect souls and imbue the Soul Well with them, but the rewards are substantial; minions in your lair will perform assigned tasks and guard against threats in your absence, allowing you further your own agen—“
A phone icon appeared in the corner of Damien’s HUD and Bartholomew’s voice was dulled to a distant murmur. It was a call from the outside.
“Bartholomew, I’m really sorry, I…err…I need a moment. Can you give me a couple of minutes?”
Bartholomew looked at him angrily and his mouth started moving faster. Damien managed not to roll his eyes. He could do without being killed for impoliteness.
But he wouldn’t be able to hear what Bartholomew was saying without rejecting the call, and since it might have something to do with his mother there was no way he could do such a thing.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”
He turned around and wandered to the opposite end of the room, half expecting Bartholomew to stab him in the back. When he made it there intact he decided the danger was past. The in-game danger, anyway. He took a deep breath and tilted his head up.
“Hello?”
“Good afternoon, I’m Sam from the CU TRACK agency. Who am I talking to?”
“This is Damien.”
“Hello, Damien. Since this is a landline, can I assume you’re at the Brades residence?”
Damien looked around himself and took in the dirty walls, the angry vampire and the small red demon that was constructing his new home base’s first feature.
“Kind of?”
“I’m sorry, Damien, can you be more specific? I need you to help me so that I can help you. Are you at home?”
Damien was immediately suspicious. Why did they need to know where he was?
“I’m not at home right now.”
Damien wasn’t sure if that was technically true or not. Sam shared his lack of conviction.
“Then why did you answer the landline number? Look, Damien, I’m trying to help you. Please don’t make this difficult.”
“I’m answering the call from a mobile device that’s linked to my home phone. Why does it matter?”
“Mr. Arkwright, your location is important because I understand you are currently alone in your residence, which is why I am calling.”
“Why don’t you start by telling me how my hospitalized mother is?”
“That is your right.” Sam’s voice was slightly pained.
It was replaced with a series of clicks and clacks as he worked at his keyboard.
“Your mother’s condition is unchanged since we contacted you earlier today.”
Damien breathed a sigh of relief. All right, well, that was actually some good news for a change.
Sam picked up exactly where he had left off.
“Due to these circumstances, and you being a minor, CU has decided to place you into temporary state care. But don’t worry; this is just until your mother’s condition improves.”
Damien froze. So much for good news.
“Local CU agents are on their way to collect you. Please do not be alarmed. They may look a little scary, but this is for your own safety. If you are not currently at the residence, please return there within thirty minutes. I am obliged to tell you that failure to comply could result in a charge of evading authorities, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem. If you have any questions—”
Damien hung up.
He was left staring at the wall, blood rushing to his head as panic scattered all logical thought. He raised his hands and pounded the stone as hard as he could, achieving nothing except inflicting damage on himself.
“I take it you received ill tidings from your realm.”
Bartholomew had appeared by his side.
“If you must return, I can reclaim possession of Noigel and supervise his construction of your Soul Well. I’d like you to dismiss the other two imps. You should see for yourself what happens.”
Damien nodded as his thoughts started to catch up with him. Bartholomew was right. He did need to return. If the CU agents took him into custody, he’d be left with no chance of winning the streaming contest. For now, he needed to log out and make a plan. His mouth dropped open as his thoughts caught up and he realized that Bartholomew had been in earshot for the entire call.
“How much did you hear? And doesn’t it surprise you that I come from… another realm?”
Bartholomew shrugged.
“I heard all of it and understood none of it. I have many talents but deciphering the strange language of your realm is not among them. As for Arcadia not being your original home world…you’re talking to a magic practitioner and demon summoner. It is not such a strange concept for me that you come from a different place in time and space. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just an annoying demon that summons itself.”
Damien knew he’d spoken perfectly clearly. Maybe NPCs were programmed not to understand. He didn’t have the time to waste finding out.
“Thank you, Bartholomew. I’ll leave Noigel with you.”
He strode to the entryway and pointed at the two demons. They quickly stopped playing Patty Cake and locked their eyes ahead as if they’d never even considered straying from their duty.
“Good job, guys. I’m sending you home. You’re dismissed!”
The two imps looked relieved, then threw shapes at him as a parting gesture. Portals opened above each of them and they were sucked through, still holding their poses. Two swirling gray orbs dropped through the rapidly shrinking portals before they vanished entirely. His soul count rose to four out of six, a half soul apiece for each imp.
“Provided your minions are in good health,” Bartholomew chimed in, “half of their soul cost will be returned to you when your covenant is terminated. If they are wounded, all the soul energy will be lost.”
Or in normal person speak, he’d get half the soul cost back for dismissing minions at full health. That might come in handy later. For now, only Noigel remained.
“Bartholomew will look after you,” Damien told him. “I expect the Soul Well to be finished before I come back.”
With the two imps gone, Noigel couldn’t taunt him anymore. He looked at the pile of rocks still strewn across the floor and decided to make his last stand. He threw the rock he’d been oh so slowly lugging on the floor and let out a piercing cry, stamping his feet up and down furiously.
“Fear not,” Bartholomew cooed softly. Noigel flinched as the vampire’s hand stroked his head. “I’ll keep you safe from whatever it is that insulted your new master. If I find the creature responsible, I’ll teach it a lesson it won’t soon forget.”
He lowered his lips to Noigel’s ear and breathed a scratchy whisper into it. Noigel’s skin broke out in goosebumps at the first syllable.
“So get back to work.”
Noigel promptly picked up the rock and ran with it to the construction site as fast as his legs could carry him. The timer reappeared, now cut down to a mere half hour. It appeared Noigel’s work ethic depended on whether he was properly motivated. Bartholomew gave Damien a knowing wink while Noigel was occupied.
“You’re fortunate I find Noigel even more irritating than you, if only by the narrowest of margins. I’ll ensure he completes his assignment in good time, but do not forget: you have assignments to complete as well. I expect you to return as soon as you are able
.”
Damien was already in his menu and hovering over the Logout button. He spared Bartholomew a bow before he hit it and the ten-second timer to log out began.
“Thank you for everything, Bartholomew. You won’t regret it. I’ll kill Aetherius, I swear.”
Bartholomew inclined his head very slightly and the ghost of a smile twisted the corners of his mouth.
Damien’s vision went black and all sound was cut off. He blinked and his eyes opened to the inside of his IMBA set’s visor.
He was lying down in bed, back in his room.
11
The Road Less Travelled By
Damien tried to rise but had to lie back, his head still spinning from the rapid transition. After a few seconds he got his bearings and raised himself up again, pulling the helmet off his head before setting his feet on the floor. CU agents were on their way to his house and would be there in less than half an hour.
What was he going to do?
He couldn’t keep them out. If they wanted to come in they would, one way or another. Damien gritted his teeth. He already had a lot to do and not much time to do it in; he wasn’t going to let the same people who refused to help his mother screw up his only chance to help her himself.
He jumped up and started grabbing armfuls of clothing from his wardrobe.
He was leaving.
Damien didn’t know where he was going but it hardly mattered. Anywhere was better than here. He thrust a pile of clothing into the bottom of his backpack and reverentially placed the IMBA set on top of them, upside down with the charging cord stored safely inside. Then he got dressed himself, checking his pockets to make sure he had his wallet before slinging the bag over one arm and heading through the kitchen.
At the sight of the leftover bacon and eggs, his stomach rumbled. That would save him the trouble of buying a meal. He paced over to the table and wolfed down the cold food without bothering to sit. It was only as Damien lost momentum that he realized the insanity of what he was doing.
He didn’t have enough money to survive outside, let alone go on the run from CU. It was six days until the competition ended. He might have stayed with friends, but he didn’t really have any he trusted enough for this. Even if he did, that was where CU would look first.
Damien shoveled the last of his breakfast into his mouth and looked wistfully at his mother’s room, contemplating while he chewed. He was going to have to do this by himself, and as ugly as it was, he could only see one way of doing it.
Hesitantly, he walked into his mother’s bedroom. Her handbag was sitting on the dresser. Her card would be inside. Damien had used it himself, when Cassandra was too tired to get groceries, so he knew the pin code and had the relevant permissions.
Even if he was doing it to try and save her, it felt like a huge breach of trust. What would she have to say about this?
Nothing, if she died.
The last thought galvanized him and he guiltily rummaged through the bag until he found what he was looking for. He took the card and placed it carefully into his wallet. He wouldn’t use it any more than necessary. Damien turned to leave and froze when there was a knock at the front door followed by muffled words.
“Damien Arkwright? This is CU. Open up.”
A second voice bickered with the first, but Damien couldn’t hear through the door.
That was fast. He thought he’d have more time. Damien back-tracked into his mother’s room and quietly shut the door before moving to the window. He crept up to it and poked his head around the side of the wall. The window shade prevented a clear view of the corridor but he could still make out two people off to the right, standing at his door.
A hulking monstrosity of a man with a shaved head was doing the knocking. A scruffier, bearded gentleman with tech-specs leaned against the wall with his arms folded, periodically checking the stairs.
Both of them wore black suits, although the big guy's didn’t fit properly and the smaller man’s shirt was hanging out. If these were CU agents they clearly were not the A team, or even the B team; these guys were way down the alphabet. There was another series of knocks, louder this time, before they turned to each other. Damien strained to hear.
“Looks like he’s not home yet.”
“Whatever.” The bearded man pushed himself off the wall. “The kid’s sixteen, it’s not like he’s going anywhere. He’ll come back.”
The brains of the outfit touched a finger against his ear, pacing slowly up and down until his call was answered.
“This is Shaw… No, he’s not answering… But what if he’s inside?... With all due respect, sir, we didn’t sign up to be babysitters, we have—Yes, I remember what happened… Yes, I know what a punitive demotion means… Fine, but I really think we would be better utilized—Understood. Understood, sir… Goodbye.”
He removed his hand from his ear and swore loudly. Then he hissed down the corridor and gestured for his colleague to come over. Damien quickly lowered himself below the window frame as heavy footsteps drew near.
“So?” boomed the deeper bass of his companion. “What did he say?”
“He wants us to wait outside for the brat. It’s ‘less intimidating’.”
Right on cue, the house phone started to ring. There was silence from outside as the two of them listened in, waiting to see if it was answered. Damien remained in place under the window sill, breathing shallowly through his nose. The ringing stopped and he let out an involuntary sigh.
“All right, let’s go. We can stand at the front gate.”
The heavy footsteps clomped past the window again, but they were not joined by those of his irate co-worker.
“Stuff their rules, we’re going in! This division is full of soft-spined pencil pushers. I’m not standing on ceremony all day waiting for this little twerp. He’s probably still inside. Break this door down!”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You know what happened last ti—”
“Don’t argue with me, I’m your superior! Break this door down, I said!”
There was a long, labored groan before the heavy footsteps paced their way back to Damien's front door. After a few seconds, there came an almighty crash. Damien’s heart thundered in his chest.
A moment later two sets of footsteps clumped against the floor just outside the room.
Damien forced the window open and clambered through it. Without even pausing to cover his tracks he fled down the fire escape, forcing himself not to look back.
When he reached the back gate of his building’s complex, Damien allowed himself to slow back down to a walk. There was no sign of anyone waiting for him. Right before he crossed the threshold, a deeply unsettling thought brought him to a halt.
There was a camera directly over the gate. When he walked through it his face would be scanned and he’d be identified automatically. He knew this was true because he’d seen plenty of actual criminals caught on TV in exactly the same way. The facial recognition technology CU utilized had always made him feel safe – until now.
He pulled up his hood and turned away from the camera as he passed through the gate, quickly crossing the road and turning into an alleyway.
If he went far enough through the backstreets without using the main roads they should have a harder time picking up his trail. If he was very lucky, they wouldn’t be able to figure out where he’d gone at all. Even so, a single camera catching his face meant they’d immediately pick him up again. He couldn’t expect to get lucky forever.
Damien paused in the alleyway. This was going to be impossible. Maybe it would be better to turn himself in right now, before things got any more out of hand. He could even pretend he’d come back from somewhere outside and had never been in the apartment at all. They probably wouldn’t even bother checking the footage if he came back quickly. Some victory that would be, but if he couldn’t hide his face from the cameras there was no other choice. He hadn’t had this in mind when he’d packed his bag, so he hadn’t brought any c
lothes up to the task. Unless…
How hadn’t he thought of this before?
Damien looked around to check he was alone and opened his bag. The IMBA set looked like an ordinary motorcycle helmet to the untrained eye. He might look a bit strange, but it sure as hell beat state care.
Damien dug it out of his bag before taking the thought one step further, taking off the hoodie and changing his shirt to one of a completely different color. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead to bring another pair of trousers or shoes. It would have to do. He stuck the IMBA set on his head, making sure it was switched off, before tilting the visor up slightly so he could see through the crack.
He closed the bag and continued down the alleyway. He needed somewhere with a lot of people, somewhere he could blend in. More than that, he needed somewhere cheap he could stay without being hassled. He knew just the place.
Even in the middle of the day the outdoor market was in full flow, with people jostling for position at vendors selling every conceivable thing. A loud man at a stall was hollering down the road trying to sell computer parts, while a jolly-looking lady on the opposite side of the street was selling what she optimistically described as fresh fish.
Damien wondered how she hadn’t been called out for false advertising and staggered through the stench, struggling to find his footing with his vision so constricted. Everybody was too busy bargain hunting to give the boy with the black helmet any attention. Still, it wasn’t a cold day and Damien was starting to become very uncomfortable in the heavy headgear.
He blinked sweat out of his eyes and stopped at the side of the road, tilting his head to get a better view of the storefronts. One in particular caught his eye. He’d found what he’d been looking for – a pod hotel, offering hourly rates. He could hole up there while he planned his next move.
Damien edged his way between a jeans vendor and a stall full of action figurines before pushing his way through the door. He had to adjust to the low lighting as he stepped out of the sunshine and into the gaming den. It was only slightly brighter in there than it had been in Bartholomew’s dungeon, ideal for people who spent their lives staring at screens.
