by Ben Reeder
My Sight found the tendril connecting his circle to the fire ley line and I reached out for it. “You almost sound like you don’t want to win,” I said, sending a feeler out to test his ley line connection.
“You’re a good man, Corwyn. I don’t want your death on my conscience, but if you walk away, it’s going to raise questions about why you left me alive. He’ll wonder what I told you, and that is more than enough for him to start sending me bits and pieces of people I love. I earned my fate. They shouldn’t have to share it.” He finished by sending another jet of flame at me. This one was more powerful, longer. My shield held, but I was starting to feel the heat around the edges as it shed excess thermal energy. I borrowed a trick from his book and sped the process up, sending all of the heat my barrier was trying to drop back at Volkman in a single burst. It splashed across his barrier with a bright flash, but it barely taxed him.
“Neither should anyone else!” I snapped. “I need to know what you took, so I can keep other innocents from getting sucked into what you did. You’ve already put too many people in harm’s way, even if you didn’t mean to. It isn’t just your loved ones you should be protecting!” He stopped mid-attack at that, and I used the distraction to finish grabbing his ley line connection. My fingers curled and twitched in response to my efforts, my own magick working at the bonds of his spell.
“I have to draw the line somewhere, and it stops close to my door, wizard. I wish I would help you, I really do, but- what? No! Corwyn, no!” His argument turned to a plea when he felt the ley line separate. The crimson barrier around him dimmed, and I pushed against it with my will.
It broke.
“You may be a wizard in all but name, but I am a wizard every day.” I walked toward him, and he fell to his knees, his face a map of despair.
“You can’t let me survive,” he sobbed. “I have a daughter...grandkids. The things he’ll do to them...”
“I have an entire city to protect. I can make sure your family is safe.”
“No, you can’t,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
The world rippled around us, and a deep boom! sent a shockwave through the grass and knocked leaves off the trees. Honorable Sheng stepped into view, and Volkman fell to the ground.
“You do not disappoint, Corwyn,” he said to me. I put my hands together and bowed deeply before I spoke.
“Honorable Sheng, thank you for the kind words,” I said. “But he has not given me the information I need.”
“Leave that...to me.” That left a frown on my face while he turned back to Volkman. “I note you have no security here. Why?”
“I don’t want their deaths on my hands,” Volkman said with a resigned tone. “Same reason I’ve spent the past couple of days out here. This is my sin; I’m the only one who should pay for it.”
“You are an... honorable man, Miles Volkman. It would pain me to rid the world of your fine example. But, you did steal from me, and that means your life is forfeit.”
Volkman slowly got to his feet and turned to face Sheng. “I...understand. All I ask is just a moment. I get to die with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. That deserves a moment of gratitude and appreciation, don’t you think?”
Sheng shook his head. “When I say your life is forfeit, Miles Volkman, I do not mean that it is about to end. I mean that your life is no longer your own to direct. It is now mine. It will be spent doing as I command. Your children and grandchildren are therefore under my protection. So unless you were employed by a very god, you can rest assured, there is no more powerful being walking this Earth.”
“But...why?” Volkman asked.
“There is no justice in your death. Instead, you will work for me, until I deem your debt to me has been paid.”
Volkman stammered for a moment. “Take the deal,” I told him.
“Of...of course!” Volkman sputtered. “I just...this w-w-wasn’t how I expected things to happen.”
“There is but one condition.”
“What is it?”
“You must reveal to me who your other employer was, so I can protect your family, and what you took from me on their behalf.”
Volkman hung his head. “It was someone at Sammael and Berith. I don’t know who. They operated by courier, but I’m pretty sure it was one of the senior partners. No one else could have paid that kind of fee. They hired me to… ‘retrieve’ was the word they used, a contract of employment.”
“Who’s contract?”
“Kyle Vortigern.”
Draeden and Polter stood in the hangar waiting for me when the Kestrel landed in New York. Neither of them were smiling, and I suspected that it was for slightly different reasons. I’d done what I had been sent to do. Polter was probably pissed simply because I was successful. Draeden was more likely upset with what I’d discovered.
I made my way down the steps and took a moment to enjoy the feel of solid ground beneath my feet again before I headed over to the limo they stood next to.
“Mission accomplished,” I said, my tone flat.
“If you can call it that,” Polter said. “You managed to narrow it down to someone at Sammael and Berith. It’s like I said before, those who can, do. Those who can’t-”
“Those who can, think for themselves,” I spat. “Those who can’t, spout platitudes instead.”
“Gentlemen,” Draeden said. “Remember that you are both adults. Now, Trevor, you have taken us further than we were to begin with. The Codex has been returned, the culprit apprehended and justice served. Whatever Sammael and Berith are up to with their employee, it seems that, for the moment, it doesn’t impact us, at least not as far as I can divine. Thraxus will be searching for whatever new master Karl and his fellow ghouls have found. Trevor, keep an eye on that situation whether Thraxus approves or not.”
“Yes, Master Draeden,” I said, adding it to the list of things I had to handle.
“Andrew, please excuse Wizard Corwyn and me. There is something I need to speak to him about...privately. It’s a delicate matter, I’m sure you understand.” Polter smiled like a cat who had been handed a trussed up canary.
“Of course, Master Draeden,” he gushed before he waddled toward the Kestrel.
Once he was out of earshot, Draeden seemed to deflate a little. “Trevor, I’ve asked a great deal of both you and Fortunato these past few months. Frankly, I don’t see that changing anytime soon. In fact, it’s likely to get worse. Between the two of you, you’ve taken over Sydney’s roles as New Essex’s wizard in residence and as the guardian of the Maxilla. And somehow, you’ve both managed to be on the front lines of the magickal cold war that has been brewing.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in a blue cloth. “Something tells me that you’re going to need this eventually.”
A silver ankh fell into my hand. My hand tingled at the contact with it. “Wait...is this…?”
“Your paramiir.”
“Polter told me he had it destroyed,” I said.
“I had other plans for it,” Draeden said. “We both know he wanted to disgrace you. His conduct was unbecoming. Your only fault was that you didn’t defer to him sufficiently. So I took possession of it. I always had a feeling that I might want you to have it again some day.”
“Master Draeden, I...,” my throat went tight as I closed my hand around my paramiir.
“Nick,” he said. “Before you get to feeling too grateful to me, Trevor, you should also know something. Your name had begun to come up with regards to testing for Master level. After this, I’d be hard pressed to keep it from happening.”
“Master ordeals can be deadly,” I said. He cocked his head to one side and gave me a smug look.
“You can’t be serious, Trevor,” he said. “You’ve faced far more dangerous things than the Master’s trials.”
“That’s what concerns me,” I said, laughing for a moment. “You might make up special conditions just for me.”
“I won’t let that happen
, Trevor,” he chuckled. He pulled an envelope from his suit pocket and pulled the door to the limo open. “Now, go home. I’ll be in touch all too soon.” I slid into the seat and opened the envelope to find a first-class ticket to New Essex. I’d be coming home to a new student, a mystical cold war, and a rogue faction of vampires. At least the flight home would be pleasant.
Dear Reader,
Thanks for coming along on the journey so far. I hope you enjoyed this trip back to New Essex and into the world of the Demon’s Apprentice as much as I did. This actually started as a response to a request from readers to see things from other characters’ points of view. With Chance away in Boston for at least a semester, this seemed like the perfect time to work those perspectives in. And look for the repercussions of these stories in later books in the series.
Next up on the board is Prom Knight, the next official entry in the series, and I hope to get it out very soon, but I know it won’t be soon enough to suit me. I love Chance’s world, and Prom Knight is a story I’ve been wanting to do for a long time, not least because I love the title. I hope you enjoy it as much as I will.
Thank you again for your support as readers, and all the feedback you give me. I value it immensely. So, please, leave a review. Let me know what you liked, what you want to see more of and where the stories could improve. This is how I get better at telling the stories we both love. Come visit me on my new website, www.bensreeder.com.
Stay awesome, and be epic!
Ben Reeder
May, 2017
Verge Walker: The Long Walk
Caleb Archer has been many things in his violent and checkered past. Wandering the American West as a Rigger, one of the hard breed of men who stand in the Verge and work the transmission poles atop the new Aether trains, he has seen many things, both beautiful and terrible.
But what he finds when he wanders into the little town of Hermosa Springs is the most bizarre and deadliest thing he’s ever encountered; a creature with a thirst for blood that is unharmed by any earthly weapon. Suspected at first of being responsible for its first two victims, Caleb must clear his name not only with the law, but also with the people of Hermosa Springs.
Aided by holy men and women of three cultures, Caleb discovers that his own dark past has left him uniquely prepared to fight the supernatural terror that seeks to prey on the people of Hermosa Springs. But his past alone is not enough. To fight the terror that walks the wilds of New Mexico, he must endure a trial blood and pain that will change him forever, if he can survive it.
Windslinger
Elizabeth Shepherd is a dead woman.
Not even her uncanny powers can save her now.
On the run from an eldritch horror and an unfortunate promise, Liz has finally gone too far. Hunted by an otherworldly, shape-stealing dread, she careens across the countryside in a desperate attempt to free herself from a deal gone sour.
For a time, she finds safety with a her old gaming group, hiding out at a role playing convention. However, when mysterious cabals with motives unknown, summoned outsiders, and other creatures of dark magic jump in the mix, Liz doesn't think her situation could get any worse.
She couldn't be more wrong.
Before she knows it, Liz has reneged on yet another promise, one she made to her elusive hedge wizard mentor. He always warned her that using her command over the wind would attract the wrong kind of attention; yet she has few choices. Whether creating compacts with an angelic choir of Watchers, riddle-dueling with one of the wild fae, or standing against a legion of arachnid-wolf nightmares, such things only respect one thing: power.
They certainly don't want to role play with her.
As Liz faces inhuman miscreations that haunt her every turn, she discovers things are far darker than she believed.
It's possible that nothing Liz believes about herself is true.
Grave Beginnings: The Grave Report Book 1
Who says you can only die once?
Vincent Graves:
Free Spirit
Paranormal Investigator
Soul Without A Body
Thirteen...
As far as numbers go, it isn't a great one. Hell, it's not even a good one and Vincent Graves is going to find out just how unlucky of a number it can be.
Because someone, or something, is killing people in the Empire state, and whatever it is, it gives people everything they ever desired and more. And it's the more that's the problem!
Well...it's one of the problems.
Vincent's investigation also seems to have drawn the attention of a relentless FBI agent and then there's the little bit where he has only thirteen hours to solve the case, or he dies.
Talk about your literal deadlines...
...No pressure.
By the end of this case Vincent will come to understand the meaning of an age-old proverb: Be careful what you wish for - because you just might get it!
