The Mage Tales, Books I-III

by Ilana Waters

  “Yeees, but most demons do not have Oblivion’s abilities—healing or otherwise. Nor do their hosts have a mage’s abilities in the same respect.” I stroked her chin, enjoying the agony in her face and the scent of fear again, especially exhilarating from one so unused to it. “Perhaps that’s why you and your filthy hunting brethren were able to kill other, lesser demons.”

  “I won’t let you destroy the world. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you down.” Her voice was barely audible. But behind it was still that resolve, that steeliness not unlike my father’s. “Whatever it takes.”

  I drew back my leg and kicked her injured knee. Nocifari groaned and started to slide down the wall. I pushed against her harder, still clutching her broken hand in mine. A deep chuckle rippled through my throat. “Sweetness, you’re not able to do much of anything at the moment. Besides, you seem convinced that killing me will send Oblivion back, when this may not be the case.”

  “A feeble excuse to try and save your life,” she rasped.

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Remember those equally plausible theories where killing me merely exposes Oblivion? Or . . .” I eyed her keenly, “he could simply jump into another host.” Nocifari’s face went pale as I looked her up and down.

  I knew she’d reach for the explosive in her weapons belt next, of course, but I let her have the small victory of doing so. I already had a plan in mind to extend our dance a little longer. With her free hand, she whipped a grenade off the belt and tore the pin out with her teeth. Apparently, this time, she was willing to perish in the blast if it meant destroying Oblivion. She shoved the grenade into my chest and spat in my face. “Die, you bastard!” The words caught in her throat.

  I dropped her broken hand and stepped back. But I didn’t throw the grenade away from me, as she thought I would. Instead, I held it against my heart and grinned at her. Nocifari looked at me, then the grenade, wild-eyed, confused. When she realized I was just going to stand there, she began limping desperately towards the exit.

  I watched her hobble away as the grenade exploded. As close as I was, the sound alone would’ve ruptured a mortal’s eardrums. I felt the heat of it in my hand and on my chest: a soft, pleasant feeling. After it went off, I looked down. There were soot, dust, and pieces of the grenade in my palm, but I was otherwise unharmed. And the front of my shirt was stained black.

  The walls of the cavern were still ringing with the sound of the explosion. The fragmentation had jarred several stalactites and rocks loose from the ceiling and ground; bits and pieces of them flew through the air. I heard Nocifari cough, and saw her crouched behind a large rock halfway across the room. It was probably the only thing that saved her from the blast. Her quiver of bolts had been torn off. Her good hand covered one side of her head. On the other side, she’d pressed her ear against her shoulder to shield it from the noise.

  “Why the sudden shyness, my pet?” I walked towards the rock.

  “Dolce Gesù! You’re mad,” she gasped, stumbling to her feet. Her face and body were drenched with perspiration.

  “Come now, love. You didn’t really expect a demon and his charming host to be sane, did you?” I reached for her, but she twisted away with her back to me. I threw my arms around her shoulders and pulled her close, but she flipped me over. I looked up. The clip holding her hair had come undone, and waves of soft, damp curls tumbled down. I seized her arms and yanked her to the floor. Then I flipped around so that I was straddling her from behind, one knee in the small of her back.

  “Get off me, you bastard!” she screamed. Her cry was half pain, half rage.

  I felt such pure delight that I had to laugh. I tugged on one of her arms, the one without the broken hand. I pressed down on her elbow, extended her forearm, and gave it a jerk. I felt the gratifying snap, and milliseconds later, the exquisite scream.

  I laughed again. I couldn’t believe I’d waited so long to join Oblivion. Look at all the fun we were having! I inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of bergamot that drifted up from her hair. It was much longer than I originally thought. I leaned closer, almost burying my face in it, and inhaled again. I felt her body go rigid with fear, her mind frantically searching for some way to fight back.

  “Yes,” I whispered in her ear. “Yes, this was the dance I wanted, dearie.” God, this was going to be so satisfying. She’d practically begged for it. All those acrobatic moves, bending her body so lasciviously. All that silly kicking and punching. Letting me get so close, then pushing me away. Getting my blood pumping like that . . . it was obvious what she was really after. I could take her right now, just like this. All I’d have to do was pull those silly trousers off her.

  But no. I turned Nocifari over. I wanted to see her face when I did it. I wanted to see the pain from her throbbing knee, her broken arm, her hand. The razor-sharp feeling of me slicing through her. I was so aroused, my own trousers were practically coming apart at the seams. And I would have sated my appetite for her, mind you, if that blasted Philip hadn’t burst in.

  “Don’t move!” he shouted. With a crossbow held shoulder high, he fired a bolt into my upper arm.

  Dammit. I didn’t mind having an audience for this particular act, but I would not tolerate interruptions. I stood up and wrenched the bolt from my body. Philip reloaded the crossbow while Nocifari dragged herself towards him. Never mind that; I’d drag her right back once I finished with Philip.

  “I hate to tell you this, son, but your friend here already tried that.” I jutted my chin at the crossbow.

  “Stay right where you are!” Philip shouted again. He glanced down. “Gabriella, are you all right?”

  “Philip, you . . . we . . . have to get out of here.” Nocifari spoke in English now. Unable to fully sit up with her broken bones, she did manage to turn herself around and look at Philip. Her skin was deathly pale.

  “I should have gotten here sooner.” Philip’s voice deepened with regret. He directed his words to Nocifari, but continued aiming the crossbow at me. His eyes darted from me to her and back. I could tell he was trying to think of some explanation as to his late arrival. An explanation that didn’t involve mentioning how he and Arthur were in league with supernaturals. Poor little man. He really thought there was a chance I’d come out of this the same old Joshua. That those former alliances and relationships would survive.

  “The demon put us—Arthur and me—in a trance,” he said to Nocifari. “As soon as we came out of it, I got the signal that the dynastructor had been activated at this location. Arthur told me where the secret entrance was in the Temple of Aradia, and I ran out.” He looked at me. “I don’t know where . . . the others are.”

  The others, yes. My parents and Arthur. I was wondering where they’d gotten to. I hoped they wouldn’t be too long after Philip. I’d rather finish the whole lot off right now so I could get back to my beautiful demon hunter.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Nocifari panted. “The others . . . at the PIA can’t help us. Philip, I tried everything. I have failed you. The PIA. My family. I am so sorry.” Her eyes started to wander, as if she was having trouble focusing.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he said. “You fought like hell, and that’s all anyone can ever ask for.” He got that resolute look I’d seen before in his eyes, and started to pull the trigger.

  “Oh, really,” I sighed, jerking the crossbow out of his grasp with a wave of my hand. “I told you, your pretty friend already tried that. And fists and knives and bombs and dyna-whatevers. At this point, I’m beginning to think you both enjoy failing.”

  Philip’s eyes bulged as the crossbow hit one of the cavern walls and smashed to pieces. His head swung madly to the left and right, trying to find another weapon as I walked closer. Finally, he stared hard at me and put up both his fists. I laughed so hard I doubled over, holding my stomach with one hand.

  “Now, this is rich!” I hooted. “Just too rich! Does the little boxing champion think he’s still in t
he ring?”

  “Philip, just go,” Nocifari breathed. She was barely conscious now. “You might still be able to run. Just go.”

  But Philip didn’t. Instead, he bobbed up and down on his feet, circling me, hands still balled up. I played along with an amused smile. If he struck me, I could always turn my body to stone again, as I had with Nocifari. That might break his hands, and perhaps his forearms. But for what? His blows would have no more force than a flyswatter. And I enjoyed seeing him like this: the silly, round man perspiring as he put up a fighting stance, his face turning red.

  He tried a sharp jab, and I quickly hit him in the ribs. He cried out and gnashed his teeth, but still deftly avoided my next blow. The look in his eyes grew even fiercer, and he delivered a surprisingly powerful right hook to my jaw. It was simple enough to return the favor, though I was annoyed when it failed to knock out any of his teeth. Nocifari watched us with heavy eyes that could barely stay open. Her lips were slightly parted as she struggled for breath.

  This one is stronger than he looks. And he does not go down easily, as other men would. Perhaps Oblivion and I could cultivate him. He would make a fine lieutenant in my demon army. One more hit to send him to the floor and keep him there a while. Then I’d have my dalliance with the charming Gabriella, and Philip and I could talk business.

  I went in for another hook. He dropped almost to his knee, presumably to avoid my punch while making one of his own. But at the last second, he switched hands and hit me on the other side. Naturally, it didn’t hurt, but the unexpected force of it made me stumble back. In the meantime, Philip stood up, hands raised for another round.

  A body-drop feint. Sneaky little bastard. But cunning. Too cunning. No, I had to finish him. I couldn’t have someone else thinking they were smarter than me and trying to usurp my throne. I should’ve seen that coming. I mean, Philip’s thoughts weren’t impenetrable even before Oblivion’s influence. I’d gotten lazy. For a demon king—no, a demon god—that simply would not do. I glanced at Nocifari, saw her eyes roll back in her head, her body go limp. Damn. I’d so wanted her to be conscious when I ravished her.

  I pretended to launch a haymaker at Philip’s head, but struck him in the upper arm at the last minute. I laughed again at the crunch it made when it broke. He let out a cry of pain, then tripped on a large rock. He lay facedown on top of it, floundering like a fish as he tried to get back up.

  I was laughing so hard now my eyes watered, and I gasped for air. “You ridiculous pig of a man. What on earth were you thinking, going up against us?” I was too busy chuckling and wiping away tears. I didn’t see Philip’s fist coming towards my face until it was too late.

  That bloody little shit. The blow sent me sprawling backwards, and I landed hard on my head. It would have shattered a mortal’s skull, and possibly knocked out a mage. But I was me now. I was Oblivion, and I wasn’t going to stand for—

  Wait. I’d promised myself something just now, hadn’t I? I promised I wouldn’t get lazy again. That I’d read their tedious minds when necessary. I couldn’t afford to do otherwise, at least not until after the world was mine. But for some reason, that last thought suddenly seemed foreign, and terrible. Why would I want to rule the world? Why was I thinking about raping the woman lying across the room, then beating her colleague to death with his own arm? A wave of horror came over me as I put one hand to the back of my head.

  The double blow must have knocked some sense into me—literally. It hadn’t hurt; it was more like something got jarred loose in my brain. That part wasn’t literal. But as I struggled to my feet, everything was different. The elation and excitement I’d felt straddling Nocifari had vanished. It was as if Oblivion’s hold on my body and mind broke, but only for a moment. Even now, I could feel him reaching along the edges of my consciousness, searching for a way back in. I had to act fast.

  “Philip,” I started, holding one hand in front of me. “I’m sorry. It’s not me.” This was all so unbearable. I was echoing the same words I’d said to him the last time I hurt Nocifari. And now I’d injured him badly as well.

  “I know,” Philip said in a low voice. He was on one knee in front of Nocifari, two fingers pressed to the inside of her wrist. His glasses sat crookedly on his nose; one lens was shattered. He turned his head slightly, but refused to meet my gaze. “Just go.” I hesitated.

  “Go,” he repeated, louder. “I’ll take care of her. Go before you . . . before he finishes it.” Wordlessly, I nodded. I walked backwards a few steps, staring at the two of them. Finally, I turned around and went in the only direction I could: into the chamber with the mirror.

  I didn’t know how, but one way or another, I was sending my demon back to hell.

  Chapter 23

  I could tell something was off the moment I entered the room.

  The atmosphere was different. The air was different, and I don’t mean in substance. It was still cool and stale. But it was filled with the vilest magic I’d ever known. I’d have wagered even a mortal would be able to feel it, it was that strong. It pressed down on my shoulders like a cavern collapsing, choked my lungs like the foulest smoke.

  Yet it felt familiar, somehow, like home. Almost comforting. Which, of course, was the most petrifying thing of all.

  “Hello, Joshua,” I heard Oblivion say. The voice was as familiar to me as the black magic. It sounded like a deeper, more powerful version of my own. And it was no longer disembodied, existing only in my head. It was coming from the mirror.

  Heart pounding, I walked slowly to stand in front of it. I had no idea what I’d find there, but I knew it would be the worst incarnation of Oblivion I’d seen yet. I was right. The demon wasn’t in the same form as last time. Gone were the horns and hooves, the claws and pointed teeth. Instead, the figure was far more terrifying than any underworld creature, real or imagined. Staring back at me in the mirror was . . .

  Me.

  I mean, it had to be Oblivion, but it looked exactly like me, right down to the last detail. The shape of my bones, the slight waves in my hair . . . everything was the same. Only this version was the gaunt, ghastly one others feared so much. I had hollow eyes and sunken cheeks. My hair had grown thinner, the flesh tighter over my face. It wasn’t hard to imagine my head as nothing but a giant skull.

  It smiled widely, pulling back a thin pair of lips. Its eyes should have been light green, but they were dark, almost black, with no pupils. Veins seemed to stand out along its temples, but not bluish ones like a vampire’s. More like the threaded skin of someone very, very old.

  So, this was what I looked like now. I stroked the sides of my face, barely able to take it all in. But I was entranced as well. I heard Oblivion whispering in my ear, almost like a lover. Beautiful, beautiful.

  The figure strode back and forth inside the mirror. It even moved like me. It had my gait, my gestures. It was jarring to see it walking of its own accord. With a normal mirror, of course, your reflection does what you do, only backwards. And I was standing perfectly still. Finally, the figure stopped in front of me and put his palms together.

  “This is the moment we’ve been waiting for, my friend.” He smiled. “Our union is nearly complete. All of what you would call my ‘evil’ is a part of you now.”

  I shook my head, still staring at, well, myself. It can’t be. It simply can’t be. “No,” I said. Then I heard the distant sound of murmuring, like a radio with the volume turned low.

  “Oh, come now, Joshua. You are literally face-to-face with me. What more do you need to see the truth? You cannot escape it. It’s an easy thing to forget when you’re ‘upstairs,’ so to speak. Where you have pesky friends and family reminding you of your past self.”

  “My true self,” I said firmly. “It is not in the past. I am still that person.”

  “Ah, but mirrors don’t lie, do they, Joshua?” Oblivion put his hands out to either side, and his gaze moved in an arc around the frame. The murmurs I heard before grew loude
r, more urgent. I recognized some of the voices; they were coming from behind me. I whirled around.Along the cavern wall, strung up via some magical force, were three people. Their arms were held above them as if by invisible ropes or chains. They were thrashing back and forth, struggling against the unseen fetters.

  “Mom! Father! Arthur!” I ran to the wall, searching with my mind for a spell to free them. But when I got within five feet or so, I hit a shielding spell that sent me sprawling. I jumped back up, pounding and kicking at the shield as the muffled cries behind it grew more frantic. But it was no use. The shield held fast, expelling me every time I touched it.

  I could see them trying to form words, but their mouths would not open. There was no gag; their lips simply wouldn’t part. It was as if they were glued together by the same magic pinning them to the wall. But I could still hear the sounds their throats made with each futile attempt to speak. I tried to read their thoughts, but those, too, were blocked. I turned back to Oblivion, furious.

  “You didn’t let me hear them before, when I came in, but you’re letting me now.” That was why the murmurings had seemed to grow louder. “How did they get here? I don’t remember doing any of this. How did you summon them without my noticing?”

  Oblivion laughed. “You don’t have to notice. That’s the beauty of us. We can multitask!” Then I realized that I’d been in the anteroom with Philip and Nocifari for quite a while. The underground was full of passages and tunnels. Oblivion had simply used one of them to access this room while I was preoccupied.

  “And I think we should get Philip in here as well. Oh, Phiiiliiip . . .” To my dismay, I saw Philip being dragged through the entrance and up along the wall as well. He was under the same silencing spell as the rest, making panicked grunting sounds. He twisted this way and that as he was hauled through the debris. His distorted features showed the pain his broken arm and ribs gave him as Oblivion jerked and dangled him cruelly.