The Mage Tales, Books I-III

by Ilana Waters

  “Well, ah, not exact—”

  “We’re agreed, then.” Oblivion nodded. “It’s ‘he’ I shall be. At least until I get bored with it.”

  What is this bizarre little bugger up to? I tried reading his thoughts, but they were strangely blank. Not blank in the way simpleminded people’s thoughts are blank. These were more like the pages of an ancient text, worn on the outside, as if many people had read them over the years. But when you opened the book, expecting to find centuries of accumulated wisdom, there was nothing. No writing whatsoever.

  “Noticing the old tricks don’t work, do they?” The demon gave a smug smile.

  Dammit. I can’t see inside his mind, and I can’t do anything without him knowing it. I set my mouth in a line. “Well, I thought it only fair if you could access my thoughts, I should be able to access yours. But it seems you don’t play fair, do you?”

  “Never really saw the point.” Oblivion grabbed his horns, stretching out his arms and chest. “And you can stop doing that.” With a wave of his hand, all the magic I’d gathered vanished. I felt my body go cold from having it taken away so suddenly. I panicked when I realized I couldn’t gather any more. There were times I’d spent all my magic on a spell, or fighting someone, but it was nothing like this. I felt empty. I realized I’d only been able to gather the magic in the first place because he let me.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I hissed.

  “Oh, calm down,” Oblivion said. “You can have it back later. Besides, there’s no need to use magic against me, now, is there? And you couldn’t even if you wanted to. We’re practically the same person, after all.”

  “We may be sharing the same body,” I said through clenched teeth, “but we are under no circumstances the same person.”

  “Soon enough, then, soon enough. I must say, I do like the sound of our voice.” Oblivion looked me up and down approvingly. “I’m glad your years growing up in England gave you a bit of an accent. It makes us sound refined. Not that we’ll be refined, mind you.”

  “Cut it out with that ‘we/us/our’ crap,” I snapped. “And if we’re really the same person, why did you have to use a mirror as a portal to get here?”

  The mirror. If I can break the mirror, maybe it will send him back. Quickly, I looked around for a large rock, which wasn’t hard to find. I picked it up, resolving to hurl it at the glass before Oblivion could stop me. I turned to face the mirror and pulled back my arm when I felt a searing pain in my wrist. I cried out and dropped the rock, clutching my hand. But when I looked down, there was nothing there. No wound, no damage.

  “A mirror as a portal?” sneered the demon. “Don’t be clichéd. No, this is just what I use to communicate. A sort of supernatural telephone, if you will. It took quite a lot of effort to repair, even for me. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t undo all my handiwork.” The pain in my wrist was fading, but still I massaged it, grimacing.

  “If you’re already in my head, why not just communicate in my thoughts?” I glared at the mirror.

  “Heh-heh,” Oblivion chuckled. “How would you know if I did? How would you know if such thoughts were yours or mine? I may have taken over some of them already.”

  No! I thought, and the demon laughed again. It was too chilling to contemplate. “My thoughts are my own,” I said aloud.

  “So you say, so you say.” He examined the parts of his fingers where nails should have been. “Tell me, do you really think you found your mother on your own? Got the Council off your back? Defeated Ferox?”

  “I . . . I didn’t do it alone,” I stammered. “I had help.”

  “Don’t be naïve,” the demon sneered. “You had help, all right. From me.”

  I tried to keep my breathing steady as anger boiled inside me. “You’re lying. You’re a twisted little imp and you’re lying.”

  The demon burst out laughing. “A bit hard to take jibes seriously from a man who thinks this mirror was my portal,” he scoffed. “Or have you forgotten our little crystal friend?” My hand flew to my pocket. Thankfully, the crystal was still there.

  “Yes, indeed.” His eyes sparkled in a way that made my skin crawl. “The Opener of Doors was very kind to let me in. Quite a neat little trick, in fact. On the night you were conceived, an enormous amount of energy was released. Much like when you split an atom. It was there I saw my opportunity.” He walked back and forth in the mirror’s frame, and began speaking more to himself than to me.

  “Now, the last time I tried to traverse this world, I chose the most powerful person I could think of to enter. After all, who could be more powerful than a king? The witches were very helpful in that respect. Unknowingly, of course.”

  “Wait,” I interrupted. “How did witches—”

  “But that effort went somewhat awry, I must say.” The demon carried on as if I weren’t there. “I was only able to come in partway, place a sliver of myself in men’s hearts. I didn’t have the complete control over a body that I wanted. A mortal’s infernal personality and free will could edge me out of their consciousness, if not their blood.” He made a face and dug one fist into his palm. “But what if I could build a person ‘from the ground up,’ so to speak? Start out when they were very small. Just a baby, let’s presume.”

  I swallowed. A baby. Me.

  “And when I saw those two great forces joined,” the demon paced faster now, rubbing his palms together, “a man of war, of pure destruction, and a woman who brought forth creation . . . it was then I saw my chance.”

  “So you waited thousands of years to make yourself known again?”

  “My boy,” Oblivion said, as if remembering I was there. “Thousands of years is a mere blip on the radar screen when you come from eternity. But yes,” he frowned, “I’ll admit the waiting did get tedious after a while. You know how it is, when you want something so badly.” He tilted his head and smiled at me.

  “But why now?” I demanded. “Why jump into my body only to hide for decades? Why come out now?”

  “Why not now?” Oblivion shrugged. “The world is at a crossroads. Technology is slated to expand like never before. Geopolitical situations are at a boiling point. The planet has never held so many people at once. I’d say the circumstances are ideal, wouldn’t you?”

  “Ideal for what?” I tore my fingers through my hair. “What is it that you want, exactly?”

  “What does everyone want?” Oblivion smiled broadly. “What did that bumbling idiot Ferox want? Of course, he thought the crystal would help him rule the world. That if he was the one to bring me here, he could control me. Please. I was always planning to bring myself over and rule. Alone, and when I saw fit.” He grinned at me. “Which I do. Now.”

  I forced myself to look into Oblivion’s black, soulless eyes. “And what makes you think I’ll let you do that?” I asked him, my voice low. “Or are you just going to force me to, the way you made me come down here? The way you made me injure that deliveryman?”

  “Oh, I think you’ll find that in time, there will be little difference between your desires and mine.” Oblivion’s voice was equally low, but considerably more threatening. “We’ll be like two peas in a Joshua-shaped pod.”

  “That makes no bloody sense!” I exploded. “Perhaps you’re mad as well as twisted.” The weight of all that was happening suddenly crashed down on me. I felt so heavy that I leaned against the mirror frame, even though it brought me closer to Oblivion.

  I stared at the cracks in the glass, feeling a bit like a shattered mirror myself. I noticed that one crack was oval-shaped. It was odd, since glass shouldn’t crack in ovals. Actually, it was more like two teardrops pushed together, tip to tip, on their sides. Like the symbol for infinity. I traced my finger around it, wondering how long it would be until I fell into place, like the missing piece to Oblivion’s puzzle. Like the shards he’d reassembled to make the mirror.

  “What are you doing?” Oblivion asked suspiciously.
>
  “What?” I asked. “Can’t I touch your precious looking glass?”

  “No, you cannot,” he said sharply. “Not like that. Stop, I said! It’s irritating.”

  As satisfying as it would have been to vex the demon further, his expression was so fierce that I withdrew my hand. He wasn’t this bothered when I tried to smash the mirror with a rock, but he doesn’t want me touching it? Possessive little freak, isn’t he?

  “So, then.” I stood back. “When are you planning to assume your rightful place on the throne, as it were?”

  Oblivion smiled again. “Let’s just say you’ll know when. And it won’t be long now.”

  “Could you be a bit more specific?” I asked. “Next week? Next month? I like to schedule all my apocalypses in advance.”

  Oblivion just giggled and pranced about. “Won’t be long, won’t be long. And we’ll talk before then. I’m sure you’ll be down here again to visit me soon.”

  “So I have to be like Professor Lidenbrock? Make a journey to the center of the earth every time you feel like chatting?” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “Now, now, it’s not quite that far.” Oblivion grinned again. “Unless of course, you’d rather I send more messages written in blood.”

  “NO!” I shouted, sending echoes throughout the cave. “No more bloody messages.”

  “Until next time, then!” the demon said merrily. I heard a large rock fall somewhere to my left. I turned my head, just for an instant. When I turned back, Oblivion was no longer in the mirror. I looked for him all over the cavern. I even foolishly tried to peer behind the mirror. But it was no use. The demon was gone.

  Well, not gone, exactly, I remembered. He’s still here. Inside me. I put my hand to my chest and took one last glance around. I had to get out of there.

  But I didn’t go straight home.

  Chapter 4

  When I stepped out of the Temple of Aradia, I was surprised to see it was morning. I must have lost track of time while I was underground. People were starting their commute to work, children were on their way to school, and tourists were beginning their sightseeing. For all intents and purposes, it was just another ordinary day in Rome.

  I had to shield my eyes from the sun; I’d already grown too accustomed to the darkness. My mind was racing. I didn’t know whether to be terrified, or simply in despair. I had no idea what my next step should be. What plan could you make that would defeat a demon? I’d never felt so much at a loss in all my life.

  Two heads are better than one, Joshua, I told myself. Or in this case, four heads. There was nothing to do except go back to the Hassler and wait for Arthur to return—hopefully with more information. Then he, my parents, and I might have something to work with. Anything, I thought, rubbing my forehead.

  I decided to take a cab back. I didn’t know if Oblivion was planning any more violent run-ins on my walks, but I wasn’t about to take a chance. But you can’t hail a taxi in Rome the way you can in London or New York. You have to wait at a taxi stand. The one nearest to me had a long line. I got on the end of it, praying my demon didn’t make me push the queue of commuters into the busy street like dominoes.

  After a few minutes, I started tapping my foot and sighing. It wasn’t like me to be so impatient, but I told myself it was Oblivion’s influence. The little blighter probably never had to wait for a cab in his life. After a quarter of an hour, the line had barely moved. People in front of me were getting irritated, too, but I was positively fuming.

  Where the hell are the taxis in Rome this morning? I thought, grinding my teeth. Did the cabbies all go on holiday at once? Lazy, stupid bastards. Lying in the sun while the rest of us stand here and—

  This was ridiculous. Why was I so annoyed? I didn’t even have anywhere important to go. Those who were late to work had more reason to be put out than I did.

  I’m worried the demon will make me hurt someone else, and I want to get back to the Hassler as soon as possible, I told myself. It’s just coming out as anger, that’s all.

  Finally, another taxi showed up at our stand. But apparently, the would-be passenger was more interested in having a conversation with the cabbie than actually getting into the cab. Briefcase in hand, he leaned through the open passenger-side window, gesturing to the road and asking questions. The others in line made clucking noises with their tongues and gave each other looks. But personally, I’d had enough.

  Scowling, I marched to the front of the line, pushing people out of the way as I passed. There were several indignant shouts and unflattering Italian words hurled at me. I grabbed the man leaning into the cab window by the collar and threw him backward. He landed on the sidewalk along with his briefcase, whose contents spilled everywhere. I ignored his cries of pain and outrage and went around to the driver’s side of the taxi. I opened the door, seized the cabbie by the arm, and threw him to the ground as well. Then I got inside and drove off, delighting in the protests and screams from the cabbie and commuters.

  Bloody idiots. Why should I have to wait, anyway? And why go straight back to the hotel? There’s no rush. I smiled to myself as I drove, looking at the buildings and people around me. I should have some fun first. Maybe I should—

  I didn’t have time to think of anything. When I looked back at the road, there was a group of schoolchildren—no more than seven years old—right in front of the cab. My eyes went wide and my heart leaped into my throat. I slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid hitting three of them.

  The brakes squealed, and I blew on the horn as hard as I could. Several of the children screamed and dashed to the sidewalk. One of them burst into tears and had to be dragged to safety by a friend. I gasped for breath as I stared into the street. Cars were honking mercilessly, and now other drivers and pedestrians were screaming at me as well. I looked behind me, only to realize I’d run a stoplight and driven halfway into a crosswalk.

  I heard a loud bam on top of the cab, and whirled my head around to see an angry policewoman at the driver’s-side window.

  “Watch what you’re doing!” she shouted, giving the top of the cab another whack with the palm of her hand.

  I stared at her for a moment as I blinked rapidly, my mouth trying to form words. “Sorry,” I said, more because she expected it than because I felt remorseful.

  “I should report you. You do this for a living and this is how you drive? Per l’amor di dio—it looked like you were gunning for those kids!”

  “No, no, of course not,” I said quickly. No one with a conscience would do that. Would they?

  The cars behind me were still honking. The policewoman held them back with her hand and narrowed her eyes as she peered into the cab. “What’s wrong with you, anyway? You look a little . . .” Her voice trailed off as she glanced around the cab’s interior, then back at me.

  “I’m fine!” I snapped, and gave the policewoman a dark look. Her face fell. Slowly, she backed away from the car.

  “All right, sir.” She was still staring at me as she tipped her cap. “You . . . you have a good day now.”

  Well, they certainly don’t make cops like they used to, I thought bitterly, and drove off so fast my rear wheels screeched. One scowl and she backs away? No wonder crime is so rampant in Rome. Not that that’s a bad thing . . .

  I pulled over and shook my head vigorously, then grabbed a clump of hair on each side. No! I thought. This isn’t me. It’s Oblivion. It has to be. I had to get out of this cab. If I thought just walking around with a demon was dangerous, I could only imagine what one could do behind two tons of metal.

  I locked the cab and threw the keys in the nearest trash can. Hopefully, if it was found only a few blocks away, undamaged, the driver wouldn’t bother to report it as stolen. Though being in jail might actually be a good way to stop Oblivion from hurting people, at least for a little while.

  Or maybe it wouldn’t. I walked quickly down the street, not daring to look at anyone. Maybe Abigail
had a way to magically bind me from doing harm until we figured this out. If worse came to worst, I could always ask Titus to knock me unconscious. I’m sure he’d relish the opportunity, I thought, only half-kidding.

  With my eyes cast down, I saw little more than my feet on the sidewalk, and nearly bumped into a crowd walking up out of a metro station. Others were rushing to get down the steps as well, and a flash of red caught my eye as they descended. It was a young woman, no more than twenty-five. She wore a pair of high heels, a tight skirt, and a scarlet blazer, presumably on her way to work. Without thinking, I followed her into the station.

  She sped through the turnstile without purchasing a ticket, so she probably had a weekly or monthly pass. But I wasn’t about to waste my time or money on such trivialities. Without slowing down, I took out my wallet, glamoured a credit card, and followed her through the entry barriers.

  When I was a few yards behind her, with other people between us, she turned to the left. It was as if she suspected something was amiss. But then, she shook her head and continued on, eventually boarding a metro car. I just managed to get on as well before the doors shut behind me.

  Slowly, I followed her up the aisle, elbowing my way through the sweaty, stinking knot of people. Too bad I couldn’t use magic to throw them to the sides of the car. But then, I’d give myself away, both as a mage and now, as a hunter.

  Fuck’s sake, this is irritating. I shoved past a woman with a toddler on each hip. I can’t wait until these flea-bitten mongrels are gone for good.

  Sometimes, the young woman would stop and turn her head again. Other times, she would almost choose a seat, only to go into the next car. Everywhere she went, I stayed a few feet behind. I considered using an invisibility spell. But it was so much more exciting if there was a chance I’d get caught. If she was nervous, thinking she saw me, but didn’t.

  From the glimpses I caught of her face, she looked more drawn than before. She fiddled with the collar on her blouse. My palms were moist, my heart racing with anticipation. She didn’t look behind her for several seconds, then suddenly whirled around as if to catch me in the act.