by Marta Szemik
I hadn’t considered her humble offer before, and I wouldn’t now. Smiling, I rolled her sleeve down her arm. “If I do that, I don’t deserve to be an evil-bender.”
Mrs. G stepped in. “He’s right. It takes two of the keepers to outvote the third, and I have a feeling that’s been done. You need to defy your mark and follow your own instinct. Your heart will guide you.”
Mrs. G pressed her palm to my chest, warming the beating organ inside it. Its rhythm quickened, responding to a magical touch as if seeking power from the witch. She took her hand away, and the beating resumed to its regular pace.
What they were asking me to do seemed impossible. My mark defined who I was. It connected my infinite strength to the keepers. I didn’t remember a time without it—only a vague memory when I was a lost boy. But if I didn’t defy it, I’d lose it anyway to mortality. Was this my only chance to keep my life as an evil-bender? Would I still be an evil-bender without it?
A tingling ripple flowed through my body and stopped at the crusted spikes. The thin coat of fresh scab broke along its edges, and I bled where Mira had placed the last bandage over the ointment.
“You need to go?” Xela examined the burgundy drops flowing down my neck.
I nodded with sadness, thinking about the new kill I’d perform today that would bring me closer to my own death. My fate called out to me.
“You’re not strong enough, Eric.” Mrs. G dabbed my neck with the corner of her apron.
“I don’t have a choice.” I showed them my wrist where the water mark tattoo glowed. Its pull forced itself up my arm toward my heart. Soon, energy would squeeze inside my chest, blackmailing my life for duty I had to fulfill. Heat spread through my veins before it turned into electricity, and I had to go. “The keepers will find a way to get the energy through me.”
At my life’s cost.
I knew they had increased my ability to draw on their energy, just to hasten the process. There was no need to heal to get the job done. With an exhale full of defeat, I pressed my palm against the side wall of the hill, and a vortex opened. The cave filled with an orange glow that emanated from its orb.
Underworld. They want me to go to the underworld.
Before I stepped into the stench of dirty socks and rotten eggs, Xela slammed into me for a hug.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
The witch’s gratitude always overwhelmed me but made it easier to accept my defying the keepers and removing her mark, which had ultimately removed her curse.
“I will.”
The force of the vortex sucked me in, bringing me close to one of the three remaining demons whose fate stood between me and death.
Waves of heat wrapped around my body. I stood in Aseret’s grand hall of the underworld. The walls glowed brighter than daylight, illuminated by the forever-burning fire pit in the center of the hall. Without seekers to care for the wooden bridges, most had been burnt by the spitting bubbles of flowing lava underneath them. Charred stumps propped at the edge of the crevice. The river below rolled through the crater as the lazy magma drifted from one end of the hall to the other. The central fire had dimmed by a fraction since the last time I’d been here to check for Aseret’s followers, two weeks ago.
Around the outer edge of the hall, countless candles burned—they would never die out. The heavy stench of stinky socks and rotten eggs still overpowered the room and would pollute the underworld for a long time. I swooshed my saliva and spat to the side, trying to get rid of the imprinted odor. My feet pushed through the ashed remains. Heavy moisture hung in the air, and I wondered how a place with such intense heat could hold any dampness at all.
I stood near the rim of a deadly drop into the hot crater. My arms hung at my sides, palms facing outward. Stinging electricity weaved between my fingers, and I detected the energy transfer from the keepers, preparing me for the inevitable. Cracking my neck to each side, I closed my eyes, exhaled, and let my senses guide me. The tingling in my neck intensified, but I kept my spikes beneath the skin. My ears perked up, listening to the quietest change in the sound, trying to block out the swoosh of the lava, the flickering fire, and the breaking magma. The crunching noise resonated louder in the echo-prone room.
A rustle to the right stirred, but I did not move, pretending to be lost. I knew the demon wouldn’t expect me to have my guard down, and he’d come closer. New shuffling resonated to my left, and I opened my eyes, sensing another demon’s presence.
Two.
If I killed two demons, there’d be only one left to deal with and my life would end.
I never thought two of them would show up together. Were they in cohorts? My gaze shifted across the hall from left to right and back. Each stood still, prepared for a fight, clenching and opening their fists. Aiming at one would allow the other to have a clear shot at me.
But I didn’t want to hit either of them. The countdown would lower to one demon away from living without Mira. As a mere mortal, the probability of meeting her again, or to understand her life as a shapeshifter and watcher, was diminished by the thousands.
The demons kept still, as if waiting for something I wasn’t aware of. Should I make the first move? It’s not something I would have doubted or contemplated in the past. I’d bend the evil out of them in seconds. If they were willing, I’d aid them in becoming good warlocks, but these demons did not seem to have a thread of free will inside them, their stance and clothing identical.
A deep laugh vibrated through the hall. A laugh I’d recognized.
That’s impossible!
He stood at the opposite end of the hall, sixty feet in front of me, but the warlock didn’t look like the warden I’d remembered. William and Ekim had killed him; the body was dead, but the soul eluded capture. Aseret’s brother was never bound to the hereafter after his death, the way Aseret had been. The warden’s spirit now possessed the body of a young warlock, reincarnated in new flesh. With broad shoulders, evenly spaced eyes, and a chiseled body, he reminded me of the Greek god of fire. At least the warden’s unibrow was gone, although his brows were still wider than normal. The warlock didn’t wear the customary cloak of the demons like his partners on the side had. With jeans and a v-neck, he’d blend into the human world; perhaps that was his goal.
All three are here.
“You cannot kill the last one,” Xela had said. If I did, this warlock would steal my powers, and I’d be the one to lose my life.
He paced to the right, then the left, like a praying cougar, focused on its hunt—and I was his prey. The other demons hadn’t moved.
“Why aren’t you bending, evil-bender?” The thick voice absorbed all other sounds and streamed toward me in a ribbon of power. There was no hiss or drawl the way I’d remembered in Aseret’s or the original warden’s voice. This tone possessed energy of persuasion I hadn’t experienced before. It wrapped itself around me like Medusa’s snake hairs, slithering from my arms and torso up to my ears, freezing all other logical thoughts. Even the bubbling lava seemed to respond, spitting higher to the melody. His words were beautiful, matching the warlock’s presence and strength.
I shook the hypnotizing trance off my body. “I gather you heard of me. Too bad I can’t offer the same courtesy.”
“My name is Vulcan.”
How appropriate.
“What is it that you want, Vulcan? I have a job to do.”
“But do you want to do it, Eric?” His gaze held mine. He spoke like a brother and a partner, not a scheming warlock.
Who was he to question my calling? Did he doubt I’d kill him? I was an evil-bender, and I had to fulfill what’s been asked of me. I wouldn’t fail.
A sphere materialized in my right hand. The electricity sizzled through my body down to my fingertips where it interlaced between my fingers in the form of blue sparks.
Oh, yes!
The bandages on my neck ripped as my spikes burst through, vibrating the seeping blood. The keepers must have sensed my confrontation.
My mark glowed, cheering me on as if it didn’t matter that I could be killed by the other demon. No longer able to contain the surge, I shot the blue sphere of fire at the demon on my right with as much strength and voltage I could muster. The demon disintegrated on my first blow.
I’d go out on my own terms—no one else's.
One down, two to go.
But my victory seemed to laugh at me from the inside. My sight blurred, and I grew weak in my knees. How could something so right feel so wrong?
“Your heart will guide you,” Mrs. G had said.
To my left, the smirking demon held an orange orb of fire in each of his palms. He pulled his arm backward and bent at the knees.
A new sphere bulged in my palm, ready to intersect his blow.
“Stop!” Vulcan raised his palm toward the attacker.
For the first time, I sensed apprehension from the collected warlock.
Why did he stop the demon from attacking me?
The red fire disappeared from the demon’s hands, and he stood motionless, as before, showing no reaction to what’d just happened.
“You think what you’d done scares me?” One of Vulcan’s brows arched up.
“Your feelings don’t concern me, warlock!” I wiggled my fingers.
“Ah, but they should.” Vulcan pressed his fingers to his lips before I could speak. “Sh. Watch, evil-bender.” The hypnotizing words curled around my ears again.
His hand swayed up and down and to the side like a conductors’, his finger twirling. A small tornado of lava formed at the river’s edge. He added motion to his wrist, and the elongated tunnel of magma danced to the rhythm like a puppet on strings. With each move, it grew wider and taller, spinning faster. Vulcan halted the dance, and the funnel stood upright. As his hand weaved back and forth again, the twister bent to the gesture in a suave and graceful waltz.
Vulcan never stopped staring at me. I watched his raw power with intent. Part of me knew he was showing off, but I wanted to see the control of earth’s elements I hadn’t imagined possible before. A wicked grin covered his face. On the next swing, Vulcan thrust his hand out, and the fire cyclone flew into the second demon, killing him. There were no ashes, his body eaten by the lava that splattered back into the river.
My jaw dropped as I stared at the mesmerizing flow.
“One left.” Vulcan’s hush flowed around the hall three times before leaving through one of the tunnels. The warlock shook his torso. Remnants of his spell splattered from his hands to the stone floor like drops of fire. He smirked, crossing his arms at his chest.
All air left my lungs.
He knows my destiny.
Vulcan remained the only one who stood between me and my fate. Why would he stop me and kill the demon himself? My instinct told me he wanted to show his power and fearlessness. It was like the demon he killed was an obstacle between him and his plans. Didn’t he know he was next? Did he want to be next?
“If you kill him, he’ll gain all your power,” I recalled, “Your victory is also your doom.”
“Let me offer you a proposition, Eric. If you continue following the keepers, you’ll be nothing. No more evil-bending. You and I both know that’s not what you want. You want to stay who you are. I can help you achieve that.”
“You’re lying!” I shouted, hearing the confusion in my voice.
“Am I? Do as I ask, and I can guarantee you wouldn’t lose your mark, or your abilities. The keepers would no longer be able to enforce their rules upon you, or punishments. No one would be the wiser.”
But I would know.
“Why would you offer this to me?” I asked in a quieter voice than I intended.
“You’re questioning me because you know killing me would give me more power, and I wouldn’t actually die, instead reincarnate into a stronger force.”
“Then why the offer?” I stepped closer.
“I’m tired of a solitary life.” He shrugged.
“You have your demons.”
“Had,” he corrected.
“Why me?”
“You’re not boring, and you take pride in your work, your powers. I value that. We’d work well together.” Vulcan matched my every step toward him.
“You’re still a warlock. What are your intentions toward humans, vampires, and warlocks?”
“My brother was stronger than me, but not as powerful or smart as I am. He went about the whole destruction of the world and ruling alongside stupid creatures the wrong way. If it weren’t for your friends at the prison, things would have been different already. A new course of life would be set. You wouldn’t be stuck in the predicament you’re in today. Let’s call my goodwill a way of making peace. We can work together to control the humans, vampires, and warlocks so the keepers cannot impose their ancient laws on a modern world.” He paced three steps to one side, then to the other.
“That’s where we differ. I don’t think anyone should be controlled.”
“Aren’t they? What do you think the keepers are doing to you, Eric?” His stance strengthened as he rushed toward me, then stopped three feet away.
I didn’t budge, and answered, “Guiding.”
“Yes, another word for control. Don’t overthink this, Eric. Don’t let the keepers destroy you. Let your heart guide you, Eric.” He smirked.
Vulcan sounded more like a leader than a warlock, a president who wanted to drag his country out of recession. But from my experience with humanity, presidents and leaders were the best liars, each one a prostitute in a different skirt.
“Imagine not seeing Mira for much longer than twenty years. Forever. Until your mortal life is extinguished. Imagine her tears after you died and her not knowing where your grave was to mourn you. Picture her with a new shapeshifter of my creation. Her curves and caramel skin must be delicious.” He licked his lips.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Rage boiled inside me. My bleeding spikes extended. I would never allow him to keep my goddess at his side!
“You won’t be here to stop me.” He shrugged, erasing any threat I tried to muster. The warlock held my heart in his palms, gently juggling from one hand to the other. “Mira’s life would continue without you. She’d cry, inevitably turning to me, blaming the keepers for your punishment. She’d make the decision you’re struggling with much quicker than you, and she’d join me for revenge.”
“You come close to her and…”
“And what? Kill me? Go ahead.” He pulled at the collar of his shirt, ripping it through the middle, exposing rugged muscles. Arms stretched out at his sides, Vulcan closed his eyes and raised his chin.
I twirled my fingers, feeling the energy of a fireball collect in my palm. It flowed through me in waves of anxiety and misfortune. The mark on my wrist glowed, pulsing in encouragement. In the moment when I had a chance to finish my task, I couldn’t. I wasn’t prepared to lose my life. I now doubted I’d ever be ready.
“Your punishment from the keepers is my blessing. Let me make it yours as well,” Vulcan coerced.
As an evil-bender, I would have never imagined I’d consider an offer from a warlock, especially someone this powerful and persuasive. I never swayed, nor thought I could be influenced by someone else. Everything inside me told me not to listen to him, but now the increased stakes included Mira’s destiny. The thought of what she’d do when I left never occurred to me, or perhaps I didn’t want to think about it. Letting Vulcan have a part in her future would be unforgiving.
“What if I don’t kill you, or join you?” I asked.
“You don’t have a choice with that thing on your wrist, do you?” Vulcan pointed to my glowing mark.
He was right. I could already feel the tingling sensation flow from my wrist to my neck to the rhythm of the mark’s guidance. The electricity intensified with each minute, and I wouldn’t be able to avoid it much longer.
“I need to think about it.” I meant my voice to be louder, but shame shushed me.
“You have twenty-four hours,
Eric. After that, I won’t give you a choice but to kill me.” He smirked.
How did the warlock position himself to benefit from any decision I’d make? Where did his good fortune come from? Was he the one influencing the keepers to purposely place me in this predicament? And how did he possess a new body so quickly? We thought it’d take him months to find a new host.
With his head held high, Vulcan sunk into the solid rock below as if he’d been standing on a movable platform. The warlock disappeared below the underworld.
Heaving, I fell to my knees. My chest tightened, and my head pounded like I’d just stepped out of a decompression chamber.
Twenty-four hours!
How could I make that decision? Inside, I already knew what my choice would be. Hurting Mira was not an option. I couldn’t take a chance of her being at Vulcan’s side. I couldn’t let her suffer the way I would if she died. But my water mark still guided me to follow its choice. The energy inside me told me to kill Vulcan. How could I join him then? How could I defy the mark?
Eric? I heard in my mind.
It’s not a good time, Sarah, I replied to the half-breed vampire I’d been responsible with protecting in the past. Her children had bound Aseret to the hereafter, something I should have done to Vulcan long before now.
Where are you? What’s wrong? I keep hearing your wailing inside my head.
I didn’t realize I’d reached out to her. Sarah could only hear me when I wanted her to. Closing my eyes, I bit my lip. Nothing in my life has prepared me to make such a difficult choice between right and wrong, and I wasn’t ready to speak with anyone about it. Perhaps Sarah was the only one who could understand. She followed her instinct, even when the decisions seemed rushed. Her unwise choices in the past had turned out for the better. Could I do as she did? Should I?
You seem different.
I felt different. My allegiance to the keepers had never been in doubt before. Was my instinct stronger than the wise minds of the keepers? Were Mrs. G and Xela correct to suspect someone else influenced the keepers’ verdict to punish me?
Come to the Amazon, Sarah offered. You’re worrying me.
