by Al K. Line
"Like, er, like sleeping with a friend. Almost like sleeping with a brother, but not in a gross incestuous way, just..."
"Just like it was friends sleeping together, but more. We're beyond that, we're family, even if not by blood."
Vicky propped herself up on one elbow and turned to me. "That's it! It was like we're family but not family. It was nice and all, but..."
"But we aren't suited that way. We have something else, something more important than sex."
"Family, and love."
"Family and love," I agreed.
And for a while, lying on oversized pillows in Vicky's ridiculous bedroom with way too many frills and too much pink, I think we both found something we'd been searching for our whole lives.
A moment of peace while all around was madness.
Things changed that day. Our relationship would never be the same. The weird thing is, it actually made it better. We'd never be a couple, never be lovers again, and we were closer because of it.
She'd always be annoying though. Some things were beyond even this mighty wizard to change. And part of me would never have it any other way.
Satan's Breath
Vicky and I stared at each other a little sheepishly for a while, and then we burst out laughing. We had to see the funny side of it, we really did. And I'm glad we did what we did. We'd got it out of the way, moved past it. I'm not even sure we fancied each other, just that we were so close, had gone through so much, lost so much, that we found solace in each other's arms, which was as it should have been.
Then we showered, got dressed, and went back downstairs.
"So, what's the plan?"
"The plan, my badly dressed diminutive devil, is to ensure that nobody screws with us again. Ivan will do whatever he does with Mikalus, and we'll get to Cerberus and make them wish they'd never heard of us."
"Yes!" Vicky did her embarrassing mom-jig as I rolled my eyes at her antics. I couldn't help but laugh. The absurdity of it all, what we'd done, her being annoying and over-excitable like a puppy after you've been out all day, me despairing.
Guess this was my future; maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
We finalized some details over coffee, going over what we'd agreed with Ivan the night before, talking about the plan we'd all formed late into the night, seeing if it held up to the saner daylight hours when your reasoning isn't as jaded and you can think more sharply.
It had plenty of holes in it, but it might just work.
Maybe.
What did we have to lose? We couldn't go on like this? Assassination attempts, bombs, it was ridiculous.
Then I left, content with the beefed-up security Ivan had arranged. There were more men than bloody flowers in the garden; Vicky would be fine.
I drove to the city, feeling out of place and time, head swimming with plans and indecision, concern and worry about the whole sorry enterprise, but knowing I'd been pushed to the limits and this had to be resolved.
I let it all fall aside as I pulled up outside a familiar building sat incongruously amid the wasteland of a once thriving area of commerce. Most properties were cracked and crumbling, slowly decaying.
But Satan's Breath endured, proud and indomitable, the boxy exterior giving no hint as to what awaited inside.
I pushed through the doors, held back as the Turk had a conversation with an old wizard every member recognized and dreaded encountering in the locker room. The ball-sack dryer extraordinaire. This had been going on for years now, the Turk finally having got around to having a word with him last year, but the complaints continued and the old guy seemed unable to understand why other wizards didn't want to share the same space as him while he stood naked with his leg up on a sink and blow-dried his hairy, wrinkled, way too old to ever be exposed, nether regions under a force-nine gale as he heated his nuts until close to roasting.
"But I have to get it all dry down there," the wizened old man whined.
"Use a towel, it's what they're for. I don't even charge," said the Turk, pointing to the collection behind him, all neatly rolled up, some even still looking white.
"They're all rough on my bits. I like the hairdryer. It does a better job and keeps me sprightly." The old-timer did a little jig then jumped and clicked his heels together.
"I don't care," said the Turk, wiping sweat off his brow with his stained white vest, exposing a very large and hairy belly. "I've been getting complaints, again, and people are refusing to come if they know you're here. Either you stop it or you're banned." The Turk folded his meaty forearms across his barrel chest and stared down at the old guy.
"Fine, but it's your fault if I get a nasty infection or disease and they fall off."
"I'll take full responsibility if it all suddenly detaches due to lack of exposure to warm g-forces."
"Can I go in now?"
"Hand it over first." The Turk held out a hand and the grumbling wizard reluctantly fished about in his bag then pulled out a hairdryer that looked older than him. He passed it over like he was giving away his last coin, and his shoulders sagged.
"Spoilsport."
"Here's a towel, you fruitcake." The Turk handed over a towel and the wizard wandered off, muttering to himself.
I stepped up to the small counter and grinned at the owner of the finest sauna in the country, mainly because it was wizards only, no women or citizens allowed. And very, very hot. "About time," I said, as the Turk wrote my name in his book.
"It's weird," he said, scratching his mustache, thicker than a broom and twice as tough.
"Sure is." I took my towel, nodded, then went into the locker room.
The place was quiet at this time of day, but would get busier later when the wizards emerged from their festering pits. It was just me and the old guy, who changed quickly then shuffled off into the pool area.
I checked the wards on my locker, more out of habit than anything else. They were as secure as ever. With tingly fingers, I dropped the wards, put up a veil just to ensure nobody could see what was inside if they were snooping, then opened the metal locker. All of us had a similar setup. Satan's Breath was more secure than a bank vault so most had goodies stashed, and privacy was never a problem as we respected each other but it always paid to be careful.
The door opened and magical emanations hit, but I ignored them, dismissed the pleadings of dangerous books and the mutterings of statuettes, and just smiled at the last remaining items I owned in the whole world. These were the ones that mattered, that I would be sorry to see go. One in particular was very important at the moment, would allow me to do what I intended, follow this path until its end, no matter what.
"You sure this is a good idea?" asked Wand, sounding slightly panicked.
"Absolutely. Not."
"Remember what I said about focusing. You can't screw this up. Nobody else even knows this is a possibility, so don't let me down."
"I'll try not to," I said, feeling slightly panicked.
I reached out and grabbed the Teleron.
Resolute
I focused like I'd never focused before, did as Wand had instructed, following his guidelines to the letter, and pictured my destination with a clarity that became almost frightening, building up the image until it felt real enough to touch.
Nerves tried to surface but I shoved them down, refused to let emotion play a part in this. I had one chance, and one chance only, to get this right. If I screwed up I was done for, and Death would be waiting. I could picture him sitting at his desk, rubbing his hands together as he got ready to put a line through my name, maybe for the last time.
A black rectangle popped into existence in the narrow space between the rows of lockers. Infinite, dark, and deadly.
"Game on, bitches."
I stepped through.
War
Pain engulfed me as it always did, but it was so brief it vanished almost as soon as it registered. As I stepped through, I pulled Wand from my pocket and asked, "You ready for this?"
&nbs
p; "I was born ready."
"So was I." I decided conclusively that I liked him. He was my kinda sentient stick.
My will was streaming down my arm and powering up Wand even as the portal closed behind me. Carmichael and three huge Hounds, men with thick beards and chiseled cheekbones like they'd stepped right out of Greek history, turned at the sound of the magic fizzing as the sigils activated and Wand leaked.
"Hey, don't go off prematurely," I whispered.
"Sorry, it's exciting, and I'm new to this. I'll be able to last longer once I get in more practice."
I sighed. Last thing I needed was a premature magical ejaculation, but I sensed his power, the throbbing in my hand, and felt a little icky because of it.
Anyway, no time to worry about that now. As shock registered on the faces of the Hounds, I let rip. Or Wand and I did. I wasn't sure who was doing the work as my hand lifted and waved as if of its own volition, slicing Wand through the air, thrusting forward to point at each man in turn. The Hounds were hit within less than a second.
They kind of exploded. Okay, they did explode.
"You were supposed to frazzle them, not burst them," I complained.
"What's the difference?" asked Wand, giving off a deep sense of satisfaction as the sigils dulled and his thoughts, words, unspoken telepathic conversation, whatever it was, receded along with the ebbing magic.
"A big one," I muttered, then focused my attention on the one man remaining upright in front of me. Carmichael was covered head to toe in gore. He was drenched in blood, had gobbets of flesh stuck to his tweed jacket, and for some reason didn't seem pleased to see me. He stared at me hard, not so much surprised as resigned, and then he did the strangest thing.
Without breaking eye contact, he smoothed a slender hand across his face, smearing the blood, then licked his finger.
"Fuck, I forgot."
And I had, sort of. I mean, I knew he was a vampire, but he was so unlike a vampire that it hadn't sunk in, not like it had with Ivan and Mikalus. He was a posh twat in tweed with a perfect haircut, full of presence, unlike every other vampire I'd met. Had rigid military bearing and a smug self-awareness, and I couldn't reconcile this man with being a bloodsucker.
But he was, and the facade was down. Carmichael's teeth snicked down in the most worrying of ways, and he licked his finger again, tongue running around lips now engorged with blood. He sighed as his eyes clouded over then became bloodshot. The pupils dilated and he grinned at me, not in a nice way.
"Hey, Carmichael, so not nice to see you again."
"You're a hard man to kill," he said, rolling his head until his neck clicked.
"No, you did a fine job. Actually, you killed me twice, but you know how it goes."
"Not really, but no matter, you're here now. I believe you have something that belongs to me." Carmichael nodded at the Teleron held tight in my hand.
"Why don't you come get it?" I asked.
"Maybe I will." Carmichael turned to the boffins in the room, an operations center by the seems of it. They were all still in their chairs, looking freaked. Some were crying. Men and women stared aghast at the lumps of meat on the floor, then glanced back at their screens where they seemed to be viewing places from a great height. "You can all leave."
They moved to stand but I growled, "Wait," and they stayed put. "Drone operatives?" I asked Carmichael.
"Amongst other things. Surveillance, data harvesting, things of that nature."
"The modern age, eh?"
"Yes, it's quite something, isn't it?"
"Yeah. And do they know what they are involved in?"
"They know."
Before he'd even finished speaking, Wand spat volatile fire gathered from the very air itself, sucking oxygen into a vortex around the workers, making the tiniest of sparks within the electrical currents cause an inferno. They were blasted into atoms immediately, and the room turned blinding white as banks of monitors, the cages full of servers, workstations, and who knew what else, was consumed by fire.
Apart from me, because I knew what I was doing and wasn't in the mood to play nice. I was wrapped up safe and sound in a cocoon of protection, leaving me standing unharmed as the world disintegrated around me. I was surprised by my own power, as by rights I should have been running on empty by now. The only thing I could assume was that Wand was drawing on power I myself didn't possess, which was kinda neat.
When the fire died as quickly as it had started, chunks of metal, brick, concrete, and bodies littered the room, or what was left of it. The destruction was complete, only stopping three feet away, piled high like a wall of flesh and steel. The walls were mostly blown out, revealing a corridor on one side and lo and behold, a new warehouse on the other.
"Nice," I said, turning to Carmichael. "Wasn't expecting it to be this easy."
He was naked, burned black, skin already blistering, peeling away to reveal fresh pink flesh beneath. His hair was gone, scalp like lava, but it was growing back and he was still standing.
Things got ugly after that.
The Lion's Den
"It's not possible," growled Carmichael through the blackened hole that was his mouth. His lips were gone, just large blisters that oozed as he spoke, but they were growing back fast. Trust me, it was gross. Like a puckered anus talking, which is utterly disconcerting.
"Surprise," I said, grinning.
Sirens wailed, lights flashed red in the corridor, people rushed past, and Hounds amassed. The massive storage room, the new warehouse, was lit up like they'd never heard of energy-saving bulbs.
"How did you get here?" he asked, voice raw even though most of him had recovered by now.
"You know how. Used your Teleron." I bet he hated that. It was his, and now it would be his downfall. Although, I was surprised it had worked. All credit to Wand. I never would have thought of it myself, or risked it. But Wand was right, and about the scrubbers too. There weren't any. Backup locations are never as secure, but it was still a major risk.
"But... but you've never been here," he wailed.
"Careful, Carmichael, you're losing your twat-like calm, getting all stressy. It's bad for your blood pressure, you know?"
Carmichael glared at me, not looking smarmy and dapper any longer, instead looking deranged and dangerous. He was annoyed as hell, and couldn't figure it out, so maybe I'd share, just to piss him off.
"I've got you in my sights, buddy. I can jump to anywhere you are. I got it figured out. I don't have to picture a place to get it to work, I can picture you instead."
"Liar! That's not how it works." And with that he sprinted for me. His flesh split at the knees and elbows, the new skin so tight it wasn't prepared for such exertions. He screamed in agony as his body was torn apart once more.
Wand moved without me even having to think, and the room exploded with white light once more, throwing Carmichael back and away, a true Second but I was beating him down. Goes to show how important the element of surprise is. But he was vampire and I'd never fought one as powerful as this, so didn't know what to expect.
I didn't have to wait long.
He slammed into what remained of the wall leading to the warehouse. Brick and concrete rained down, denting flesh and cutting him to shreds, but he was up in an instant, his mangled body recovering before my eyes, and then he was coming for me again. Wand blasted, but Carmichael raised a hand and the magic spread and bounced off, a shield protecting him.
He careened into me and I went down, but I already had a protective bubble of my own wrapped tight to my skin so no damage done.
Hounds were everywhere now, cramming into the room, unable to do anything because Carmichael and I were tangled tight. The sirens grew louder, the lights brighter, flashing incessantly as Carmichael tried to strangle me. I felt nothing even though he was shaking my head like a rag doll's.
So I kicked him in the nuts. Works every time.
Carmichael's grip loosened and this ancient vampire gasped as I shucked him off
easily, using the precious second I had before Hounds got their act together to run to the trashed wall and clamber through. I took in the sight of the warehouse, focused like I'd never focused before, and tried to imprint an image of it in my mind.
"Remember," I said, turning as Carmichael got to his feet and the Hounds crowded around. "Anywhere, any time, I can come get you. Watch your back, dickhead." And with that I twisted the Teleron and stepped back through the portal I knew was behind me but not even checking, wanting to make a cool exit and all.
Back in Satan's Breath I brushed at my dusty clothes, took Grace off and cleaned her up, and although I knew I'd regret it, I peeked around the edge of the lockers because I heard a familiar humming sound.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked the old dude standing naked with his leg up on the row of sinks, hairdryer blowing at his balls like two battered walnuts in an old pair of tights.
He grinned at me and carried on his despicable act.
I shook my head and returned to my locker, carried on counting in my head.
I hurriedly grabbed a few artifacts from my locker and finished the countdown. "Nine, ten," I said out loud, then twisted the Teleron once again and walked through the portal.
Guess Who's Back?
Infinite bags are extremely useful, especially when you go on holiday. They're also cool for going to the supermarket, as you don't get caught short and have to pay for a plastic one—curse my impulsive shopping habits. They're also a right royal pain in the ass as you can imagine how long it takes to find anything.
Nevertheless, the moment I stepped through the portal into the far reaches of this new warehouse, I opened the fastener of the bag that looked like something Mary Poppins would love for Christmas, an old-fashioned thing made of thick wool, like a knitting bag with robust leather handles.
Things made weird noises in the crates I was surrounded by, but rather than dwell on them too much, or consider how wise a course of action this was, I pulled out Wand and asked, "You ready for this?"
The bag growled.
