by Ben Reeder
The door opened as we came to a stop, and my father came out with another goon on his heels. I got out as the old man walked toward me with a smile on his face and his arms open.
“Welcome home, son,” he said, just a little too smug for my taste.
I punched him as hard as I could.
As greetings went, it went over about as well as I expected it would. The goon on porch duty tackled me and the one behind my father drew his gun as the old man stumbled back and fell on his ass. Dr. C was coming around the front of the truck, and the gun-toting goon moved to aim at him while Dee jumped out the back door of the Range Rover and landed at my side.
“Gentlemen,” my father said as he got to his feet. “Stand down. Put the gun away … let my son up.” The goon on me stood and planted himself in front of Dr. C as my father came up to me and grabbed me by the shoulders. “If anyone is going to hit him,” he said as he drew his hand back, “it’s going to be me.”
His hand started to swing forward, and then he went flying backward a couple of feet and hit the ground again. The goons and Dr. C were looking too wide-eyed to have a clue what had just happened, so I figured everyone else was just as surprised as I was. Then Dee stepped forward, her little Sonic Screwdriver emitting a light that no LED ever could.
“You leave him alone,” she hissed.
I stood up beside her.
“Magick is strong in my family,” I said, barely keeping a hysterical giggle out of my voice as I paraphrased a line from Return of the Jedi. “My mother has it. I have it … and my sister has it. So think twice about fucking with us.”
“You disrespect me in my own home,” my father said as he struggled to his feet. “And you think I’m going to let that pass unanswered?”
“I do,” I said. “You had that coming and you know it.”
“Then go on, tell me that’s for so-and-so or whatever macho bullshit you had in mind. Let’s get this over with.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head before he smirked at me and held his hands out expectantly.
“That was just hello,” I said as I turned my back on him and grabbed my duffel bag from the back seat. “You’ve already got the threats and macho bullshit covered.” I gestured to Dee, and she came over and wrapped her arms around my waist in a fierce hug. I gave her a thumbs up then pointed at the passenger seat, and she went for it.
Dr. C went to go around the goon in front of him, and the guy made the mistake of trying to lay hands on him. Dr. C’s left hand jabbed forward, index and middle finger together, and there was a sound like electricity arcing. The goon seemed to jump back a foot before he hit the ground and twitched a little.
“Here’s the deal,” Dr. C said conversationally as he walked up to the old man. “The Sentinels and both Hands of Death are going to be watching this place. If a demon shows up here, or if Chance goes anywhere close to a demon … Hell, Stavros, if you even think of a demon’s name within a hundred yards of my apprentice, an excruciating death will be the least of your worries.”
“I think we have an understanding,” my father said smoothly.
“That’s disappointing,” Dr. C shot back. “But, hope springs eternal. You may screw this up yet.”
Dr. C turned to me and held his hand out, and I took it.
“Good luck, son,” he said.
“Thank you, sir.” I turned away to keep myself from saying anything else and picked up my duffle bag. The Range Rover pulled out from under the awning and turned down the driveway as I walked up the steps. The door opened when I was a couple of steps away and I was treated to Jeremy’s pleasant smile for a moment as he inclined his head.
“Welcome, Master Chance,” he said. “Shall I take your bag?”
I went to hand it to him, and my father grabbed it before he could lay a finger on it.
“Not so fast, boy,” he snarled. “Give me your focuses. All of them.” It was my turn to smirk at him.
“No,” I said. “I’m here on my terms, not yours. You don’t—” The first punch came low and fast, and I puked on the floor at his feet as my diaphragm spasmed. He kicked me in the ribs and I slid a few feet across the floor. I came to a stop at the feet of another goon. I looked up and saw a face I recognized.
“Hey, Nico,” I groaned as he reached down and pulled me up by my shoulders.
“Hey, kid,” Nico said. “Nothin’ personal.”
“Just doing your job,” I said before the old man planted his fist in my ribs. Breathing was going to be a chore for the next few days. I sagged in Nico’s grip, and the old man pulled my head up by a fistful of my hair.
“Fine,” I moaned. “Take the damn focuses.”
“You should have said that the first time,” the old man said as he pounded my ribs again. “Then I wouldn’t have to do this.”
After a few more shots to the body, he stuck his hands in my pockets and took my TK rod and my touchstones, then proceeded to strip any jewelry off of me. With a nod at Nico, he stepped back and Nico let go of me. I staggered forward and fell to one knee. Before I could get my feet under me again, frigid water and ice cubes rained down on me. I gasped in shock as the heavy cubes pelted my back and head, then looked up at my father with pure hate in my eyes.
“Nico,” my father said as he stepped away from the spreading pool of water, “make sure he changes clothes and take him up to his room. Jeremy, clean this mess up.” The old man left with a chuckling goon at his back, and Nico took me by the arm.
“Come on, kid,” he said. I shivered as I stumbled along beside him, unable to do anything else between the beating and the shock of the cold water. I settled for dripping on his shoes and pants. He’d never get a crease in those slacks again. He led me up the stairs and off to the right, down a long hallway, then turned left into a bathroom the size of Mom’s house. With unexpected gentleness, he led me to the toilet and sat me down, then went to the door and closed it in front of himself before he grabbed a couple of thick towels and came back to me.
“C’mon kid,” he said. “Let’s get you dried off and into some dry clothes.” I slowly peeled out of my shirt and shorts, then took my briefs off. He handed me a stack of clothes from the counter and gathered up my wet things. “You go and put those on,” he said as he took the wet clothes to the door and tossed them out into the hallway.
“Tighty-whiteys?” I said through chattering teeth as I held the offending item up.
“Ain’t my job to buy your shit,” Nico said from the door. “You want better stuff, ask the old man.” He paused for a moment, then turned to look at me. “Nicely.”
“I don’t do nice with him,” I said while I started getting dressed.
“Look, I know ya don’t like the old guy,” he said after I got my pants on, “but you gotta show him respect. If you did like you were s’posed ta do, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Yes it would,” I said as I pulled the shirt over my head. For a moment, it was all I could do to take shallow breaths as I fought the pain that came with putting my arms above my shoulders. “If it wasn’t this, he’d find something else.” There were no socks or shoes, so I got up barefoot and shuffled toward the door. Nico kept his hand on my arm as he led me to my room.
As jail cells went, it was a pretty nice one. Big bed, widescreen TV, stereo system with more CDs than I could ever listen to, and a computer with dual screens that looked like a gamer’s wet dream. Of course, where my father was concerned, everything was a trap. If he’d given me a computer, he had a way to monitor it. I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, then laid down on the bed to chill out until the next torture he decided to inflict on me.
Between dozing and watching reruns of B movies on TV, the time passed pretty quickly. Around six, I heard a noise from downstairs that reminded me of a donkey braying. A few minutes later, the door opened and Nico stuck his head inside.
“Boss wants you to come downstairs for dinner,” he rumbled. “He says you gotta be nice.”
“I’m the epito
me of good manners,” I said. “Should I wear a tie for the evening meal?”
“Yeah, whatever,” Nico said. “What you got on is good.” He gestured for me to come with him, and I followed him out the door and down to the dining room. The cherry-wood table was big enough to seat ten people, and the old man was seated at the far end. There were two places set on either side of his, with more pieces of silverware and glassware than I knew what to do with. Jeremy waited on my father, offering him a bottle of white wine. He nodded as I sat down on his left, and Jeremy poured some into his glass. He made a show of smelling it and taking a small taste, then gave an approving nod.
“Want some?” my father said as he held his glass up.
I shrugged. “Sure, why not.”
“Tonight’s selection is a 2008 Domaine Marcel Deiss Pinot Blanc,” Jeremy said. “It complements the flavor of sea food … and takes the edge off the company.” As if announcing said company, the sound of high heels on marble preceded a tall woman’s arrival. Breasts the size of volleyballs stretched a pale pink designer top to its limits, and a pair of tight white leggings disappeared into a pair of matching ankle boots. Her hair was a metallic-looking blonde that she had styled into submission, and only her mouth and eyelids moved as she attempted a smile.
“You must be Chance!” she squealed as she clattered across the room, her hands out. I tried not to flinch as she grabbed my shoulders with fingers tipped with two-inch-long pink nails. For a moment, she looked at me, then pulled me into a hug that threatened to suffocate me in silicone. Then she went around behind my father and took the seat directly across from me.
“Yes, ma’am, I am,” I said after a few seconds.
“I’m Kara,” she said as she grabbed the glass of wine Jeremy poured. “Oh, heavens, Jeremy, this is the 2009 Domaine Marcel. You know I hate that year. I don’t know why you let him buy that crap, Stavros. Jeremy, go open a bottle of the 2008 for me, please.” Jeremy nodded without correcting her, then looked to my father. Meanwhile, Kara kept on talking.
“So, you’ll never guess who I ran into today but that gold-digging little slut Jeanine Tugo,” she started.
“Darling, shut up,” my father said. It was like shutting a light switch off.
“Yes, dear,” she said, and she put her hands in her lap, eyes forward, the verbal font shut off.
“I see that hasn’t changed,” I said. “How long have you had this one?”
“About a month. They behave a little better now.” We stopped talking as salad was served. That was interesting. It meant Dulka had a new apprentice, familiar, whatever you wanted to call it. If they were a willing familiar, he could cast spells through them, but it meant he still had to do the bulk of the work. It was faster and easier, but it meant they couldn’t do as much independently as I used to be able to.
“Well, I’m done mind-raping people for you,” I said between bites of the salad. “You’re still on your own there.”
“Can’t a father just want to be a part of his son’s life?” he asked.
“We need to review that conversation we had last October,” I said. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”
“I think our conversation from a few hours ago makes my position clear on that,” he said. His eyes were cold when he smiled at me. “In case it doesn’t, I’ll clarify. I’ll call you what I want in my house, and you’ll treat me the way I demand to be treated. If you don’t, I’ll beat the shit out of you until you do. Am I making myself clear?”
I bit back the threats and rants I wanted to unleash on him, and after a moment, I smiled at him.
“Perfectly.”
“I’m going to wipe that smile off your face soon enough,” he said with a pointed look at Kara. The look of concern that crossed my face was genuine. He’d been unconscious for most of my fight with Dulka, but I thought he’d been awake when I told my old boss that he hadn’t been in my head for years. Would he connect that to mind control magick? For the moment, I figured he wouldn’t, but if he put the pieces together, I was deeply screwed. I looked down at my now empty plate and set my fork down. I wasn’t sure I could let Dulka lay his compulsions on me and remove them later. I’d done it once, but the trick was going to be in keeping my defenses in place without making the spell bounce off of them.
“Darling, eat,” the old man said, bringing me out of my thoughts. Kara looked surprised, then picked up her fork and started on her salad. I choked my food down, grateful for the slight buzz the wine gave me. True to Jeremy’s promise, it took the edge off the company. Once dinner was done, I was escorted back to my room and left to my own devices.
Instead of sleeping or watching TV, I sat with my back against the bed and let myself slip into a light meditative trance. Most of magick was having your head in the right place, and without any of my focuses, I really needed to figure out how to cast something on my own. After several deep breaths, I visualized roots extending from the base of my spine down into the earth, and branches that arced up and over my head to droop back down toward the ground. Once I could feel the slight tingle of energy along my spine, I made the effort to draw it through me. Suddenly I was like a live wire, with power pulsing through my body. It was slow but powerful, more like a steamroller than a race car. Like I did with a touchstone, I imagined a matrix to store some of the energy. Once I had it stable, I syphoned power into it, slowly charging it like a battery.
Once it was full, I set it aside and repeated the process. With the second one done, I had a choice to make. I could leave them attached to myself, or I could attach them to something else. It gave me the ability to turn almost anything into a sort of touchstone, provided I had the time and the right conditions. As I set the second matrix, I was vaguely aware of someone coming into the room. I envisioned severing the two matrices as firm, unfamiliar lips pressed against mine. My eyes opened to the sight of a familiar face pulling away from mine, and the smell of ozone in the air.
“Now that was a kiss,” the girl said as she pulled my face up to look at her.
“Lucinda?” I asked as the construct of roots and branches shattered in my head.
“In the oh, so delectable flesh,” she said. She stepped back and ran her hands down the side of her body, outlining the curve of her hips as she struck a pose in front of me. She’d dyed the ends of her blonde hair a bright red, and had done her makeup heavy. I blinked as I got to my feet. If she’d been dressed to kill the last time I’d seen her, she was almost dressed for sex this time. A tiny purple t-shirt covered her from shoulders to augmented breasts and stopped there. It didn’t even do that good of a job of covering her boobs, and the word “SLUT” left very little to the imagination about her intent. Her belly button sparkled with a piercing, and a pair of micro shorts tried their best to keep as little as possible covered around her hips. Fishnets ran down her legs where they joined forces with a pair of pink and clear plastic stripper heels to shape her legs. With the platform heels she was an inch taller than me, but she was still dwarfed by the guy behind her.
While Lucinda did her best to be a walking wet dream, Riker McCain was clearly on the Incredible Hulk workout. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been a pretty big guy, but now he was at least six inches taller and a foot wider. His shoulders sloped down into arms the size of me, on either side of a chest that sported pecs that were only a little bigger than Lucinda’s breasts. His neck had been taken over by his deltoids, and his hips narrowed almost absurdly before his thighs started. He was big, but, at a second glance, he wasn’t ripped.
“So you’re Dulka’s new bitch,” I said. Riker glowered at me, and one meaty paw curled into a fist.
“Damn straight, and you have no idea what you’re missing, sweetie,” Lucinda said. She turned and draped herself against Riker, running her hand down his chest. “I even get my own toys.”
“That’s nice,” I said. “You always wanted to get laid,” I said to Riker. “If I’d known you just wanted to be someone’s boy toy, I would have i
ntroduced you to each other sooner.” He growled at me as Lucinda peeled herself away from him and came back over to me. She put one finger against my chest, and I could see her gold-enameled talons put Kara’s to shame.
“Now for the fun part,” she purred. “Strip.”
“I already went through this,” I told her. “I’m not taking my clothes off just so you two can get your thrills.” Riker took a step forward, but Lucinda laughed and leaned forward to cup my crotch in her right hand.
“As much as you’d enjoy letting me ride this,” she said with a light squeeze, “that’s not on the agenda. We need to make sure you don’t have any spells inscribed on you.”
I uttered an expletive as I stripped the shirt off and undid my shorts. It felt weird undressing in front of someone else, but the thought of Shade doing it for King got me through it. She could do it, knowing something worse than getting stared at was going to happen. I couldn’t do anything less.
“Well, you’ve hunked up a little,” Lucinda said as she came up to me and ran one finger down my arm. “Have you been hitting the gym?” She walked around behind me, and I heard the little catch in her breath as she saw the roadmap of scar tissue on my back. Her fingertips slid across my shoulder blades, catching on the thick ridges of old wounds. Compared to Riker, I was more like Bruce Lee standing next to Arnold Schwarzenegger, lean and better defined but still nowhere near as big.
