by D. Levesque
“What the hell, are you always going to be smug and sarcastic?”
“Hmm, not sure. Still debating on that one,” he says with a laugh.
Great, I have a flying sarcastic ball who I have to rely on for the answers I want. Looking around, I see that the sun is still up in the sky some, so I would say it’s about 2 PM or so. I didn’t bring a watch with me since it’s hard to do that in werewolf form. I should get back to the girls. But first, I need to figure this out.
“So, I assume that an Incubus is just an Elveesian then?” I ask him.
“No, they are the race that you seem to have in your head. Is that what you call them? Demons? Well, they don’t call themselves that,” he says.
“Did the Elveesians create them as well? What do they call themselves?” I ask him.
“Yes, they were created by the Elveesians, and they call themselves Hellisians. The males were called Incubi, and the females were called Succubi, plural. Or Incubus and Succubus. They had emotional control over all the races that the Elveesians created. They were what you would call the law enforcement of the races,” he says.
“So, Hellisians? That’s pretty close to the word Hell, which is where we figured these Demons were from. So, the pictures we had of them being all evil-looking and small, with horns and tails?”
“Fake, the Hellisians were beautiful. Those things you have in your memories, which by the way I have to say your race is fucked up in the head about, aren’t even a thing. Someone had a vivid imagination.”
“Damn, so all those stories of calling up demons in magical rituals were all garbage?” I ask him.
“Pretty well. I mean,” and here Roger pauses. “What the heck? I will give you a freebie. With magic, you can call up powerful forces. The Elveesians did not create the magical system. Magic, even for them, was more powerful than they could control. They were powerful, but they did not create the universes,” he says.
“So what about this Void? The Elveesian I spoke to said that it was a race that they created. Is that something you can help me destroy one day if I can prove that I am an Elveesian?” I ask him excitedly.
“No, I cannot take action directly against a race like that. I am an Elveesian assistant, not a weapon,” he says.
“Fuck, so much for that,” I tell him. “Can you tell me how to change myself into an Incubus?” I ask instead.
“No, that is something that is already in you. You just need to bring it out.”
“All right, but how?” I ask him.
“I don’t know, Brandon. How do you breathe?” Roger says.
“I don’t know. I just take a breath,” I tell him, irritated.
“It’s the same concept. Just call it out.”
“That makes no fucking sense, Roger, and did you just call me Brandon instead of Master?” I ask him, somewhat surprised.
“Yes. I figured until you are my full master, I will call you Brandon,” he says.
“Whatever. I prefer my name over Master anyhow,” I tell him, waving my hand. “Now you said to call it out? Just like that?” I ask him.
“Brandon, I am what your mind would call a machine. I cannot tell you how to do something I have no experience with.”
“All right, let's see,” I say, sitting down on the grass.
Closing my eyes, I try to think about this. Call it out? Well, would it be like how I called out my Were form? I start by looking inside myself at my pool of energy, but I doubt that is where it would be, so I look for the light in my chest. Again, I can see the light. Now, how would I go about calling out the Incubus in me? I mean, for the Werewolf, I had to pull it from there. For the Elveesian in me, I had to go into the light itself. I doubt I need to do that again.
Maybe that’s where I was going at it wrong. Even Roger said I was a shapeshifter. So does that mean just animals like wolves or bears? Maybe a shapeshifter is someone who can change what they look like completely. Whoa, now that would be fucking amazing. Being able to shapeshift into anyone or anything. Now let's see. Picture yourself, Brandon, as an Incubus. With horns and a tail, like you imagined it to be.
Unexpectedly, I feel pain in my temples and backside. The pain is so strong that it causes me to open my mouth and roar! Once it’s gone, I am left panting on the ground. I have no idea how I got on all fours from a sitting position, but here I am—staring at the dirt.
“Oh, very good!” shouts Roger.
“Holy fuck, that hurt! Again! Why the fuck do these transformations hurt so much!” I ask him hoarsely, looking his way.
“What? You expect changing your physiology is easy? As an Elveesian, it took them a long time to understand pain,” he says cryptically.
“Well, motherfucker, I wish I understood it,” I tell him, getting up slowly. But it feels strange. Or my feet feel strange. When I left the cabin, I didn’t bother with boots since I knew I would be changing into a Werewolf. Looking down, I get a shock. My feet are black. They look like my feet, except the skin is black until it fades into the color of my normal skin as it reaches my knees. Lifting one foot, I touch it. The skin feels more rigid than normal skin. I can feel my fingers touching it, but there is no corresponding sensation in my foot.
The other thing is, they seem hard. Looking around, I see a rock sticking out of the ground. Going over to it, I kick it experimentally with my new foot and the rock chips, but I feel nothing. Holy fuck! No way! Reaching up slowly to my temple, my hand touches something hard and smooth. It’s a fucking horn! Quickly reaching behind me, I only feel my pants at first, but then something twitches. Holy shit. As I am only wearing track pants, I reach underneath the band, and feel something thick growing out of my, well, ass. Or more my backbone, really. It feels like a thick piece of rope, but I can feel my hand around it, and it’s clearly a part of me.Pulling it out, I see that it’s pure black. Looking around and not seeing anyone, I lower my pants slightly to allow it to move around more freely. And I realize that somehow I can move it around with my thoughts. I think of lashing out with it, and it does exactly what I pictured.
“This is cool. Can it do anything?” I ask him.
“Do anything? It’s a tail.”
“So, no powers?” I ask him, unsure now.
“Well, I am sure if you flick it hard enough at someone, it might sting. Here comes our Mighty Hero, Brandon, the Tail Stinger!”
I give Roger a stony look. “Fuck you,” I tell him.
“Oh, if only,” he snorts. “Remember? I am a metal ball. No penis on this thing.”
I just groan in mental pain. Oh my God, is this what Elveesians had to deal with? Or am I just some kind of unlucky person?
2
“Are you always going to be like this?” I ask Roger.
“Like what?”
“Well, to put it plainly, dickish?” I ask him.
“I am not dickish. I am just acting like you humans seem to act,” he says.
“Roger, we aren’t all like that, and if you are going to base yourself on someone, don’t let the internet be your guide, all right? You sound like a douche and an asshole.”
“Oh. Well, can’t have that then,” Roger says in a serious tone.
“Why are you trying to sound more human, anyway?” I ask him curiously, moving my tail tip, which I see is sort of bony and shaped like a diamond. Reaching out and touching the tip, it feels hard as a rock, and the sides are so sharp I cut myself as I run a thumb along them. Roger’s next words bring my head up sharply to look at him.
“Well, if I am going to meet your wives, I need to sound human,” he says.
“Wait, what do you mean, wives? I am not married to anyone,” I tell him.
“Oh, wait. I meant to say mates. Yes, mates are what I meant to say.” he says, “Oh look, your horns look really nice.”
Did he just change the subject on me? Man, he is going to be the death of me, I know it. But reaching up, I touch my horns again. They are not long, maybe about four inches.
“So, is this what a
Hellisian looked like?” I ask him.
“Yep, pretty well,” he says.
“How can I tell if I have the power of an Incubus?” I ask him.
“You command someone and your body automatically throws off the chemicals that will control someone. Also, since I can see you have the Voice, you would use both.”
“Nice. Is there an advantage to being in this body? Like when I am in my half-hybrid form for my Werewolf, I regen faster; I am taller, and I am much quicker.”
“Yes, you do regen much quicker, but also, haven’t you noticed that you're taller?” Roger asks me.
“What?” Looking down at my pants, I only now notice that my track pants that usually fall tot my ankles are now at my knees. “Holy crap! How tall am I now, I wonder?”
“Roughly 7 foot 6.”
“How do you know? Do you use the same measurements as us?”
“No,” he snorts again. “I had to convert from the measurement I use to your cave dweller one.”
“Seriously, Roger? Not earning any points here,” I tell him.
“You aren’t the one I want to get poi–,” he starts, but I lash my tail out at him as he had come closer, and it hits him with a metallic noise, “Hey! Watch it. You could have broken me!”
“Oh! Sorry, are you that fragile?” I ask him worriedly.
“Nah, just shitting with you. Honestly, I can go into the middle of magma or the bottom of the ocean, and I would be fine,” he snickers.
“Ass,” I tell him with a chuckle. Guess he is growing on me. “So that’s it? I am taller, can use chemicals and the Voice to command, and I have hard skin on my feet, and a tail?” I ask him.
“No, you are also much quicker, regenerate health faster, and also you can cast magic. Brandon, what else do you want?” he asks me incredulously.
“I guess I just thought that these Elveesians were like superheroes. Able to jump over a building in a single bound, fly in the air. I don’t know, shoot lasers out of their eyes.”
Roger doesn’t say anything, but I get the impression he is staring at me and judging me. “What?” I ask him defensively.
“I don’t know. I didn’t expect to find someone dumb enough to believe that the superhero stuff you watch on television would be real.”
“Oh come on, do you need to insult me so fucking much?” I shout at him, pissed off.
“Well start acting like a fucking Elveesian, and I wouldn’t have to,” he retorts back.
“Wait, are you pissed at me?” I say in disbelief.
“What? No!” he says grumpily.
“Wait a fucking minute. You aren’t a machine, are you?” I ask him slowly.
“Yes I am—beep boop. Does not compute,” he says in a robotic voice, floating up and down, left and right.
“Oh my fucking God! You aren’t a machine like you said! Then what the hell are you?” I ask him in astonishment.
“I am a machine,” Roger says defensively.
I just stare at the floating black ball in front of me. Something tells me he is lying, but I don’t know why. Wait! The Voice. It won’t work on machines, will it? I grin like a maniac while still staring at him.
“What?” Roger says nervously, backing away from me.
“Oh, I don’t know. I figure since you aren’t alive, it won’t work,” I tell him, my grin getting bigger.
“What won’t work?” he asks me, now sounding uneasy. I notice he is still backing away from me.
Reaching for that wellspring of power deep within me, I grab as much of it as I can from my lake and project it into my voice. “Are you alive?” I ask Roger.
Suddenly he stops in place, and he starts to vibrate. Then unexpectedly, he screeches loudly, his tone going up and down before saying one word. Or more like bellowing it. “YES!”
“Yes! I knew something was off about you!” I yell in triumph, but it’s short-lived as suddenly he speeds right towards my head, pretty damn fast. Thank God I am faster in this Incubus form. I dodge him, and my tail lashes out at the same time and bats him out of the way.
“You fucker!” we both scream at the same time.
“What do you mean? How am I the fucker? You’re the one who lied to me!” I yell at him, now in a defensive position. Reaching deep into my power well again, I ask him, “Why did you lie to me?”
Again, he stops in place and screeches for a second time. “Because I don’t want to be owned again!” he screams.
“What?” I ask him, surprised. Without warning, I feel something slam into my forehead, throwing me back almost off the side of the mountain I am on. I just barely manage to grab onto a rock and pull myself up quickly. One thing I have learned from fighting Johanne or Lina is don’t stay in one spot. A good thing too, since seconds later I hear a ping of something metal hitting the rock I was just hanging onto.
“Are you trying to kill me?” I yell at Roger in consternation.
“Yes, now stop moving,” he says, coming at me again, but as before, my reflexes seem to be much faster than when I am in my half-hybrid Were form and I am able to dodge him.
“Will you stop!” I yell at him.
“No, I will not be suppressed and enslaved again!” he screams at me.
“Fine! I won’t! I wasn’t planning to!” I yell at him, dodging him again, but this time he hits the side of my head, tearing a part of my ear off.
“What?” he says in amazement.
“Motherfucker!” I yell with my hand to my ear, blood flowing down my face. “Fuck! That hurt!”
“Repeat what you just said!” Roger barks at me.
Lifting my hand to my eyes, I see lots of blood, but I can feel the wound physically healing. One thing about being beat over and over, I have a high regen rate thanks to the Were form. But this is crazy! I can feel my ear actually healing.
“Repeat what you said!” he howls it this time.
“Fucking time out, dude. Jesus Christ,” I tell him, feeling my ear gingerly. There is residual pain, but it’s slowly abating.
Slowly Roger circles me. He is making me nervous, but at least he isn’t attacking, for now. I wait until he goes around me once more, and then I say, “I said, I won’t keep you. You’re free to go,” I tell him, waving towards the woods, off the mountain. “I honestly got what I came for. Well, sort of. I came for some peace, which I got earlier. But I also got to become an Incubus. And partly Elveesian,” I tell him.
“Wait, so you are saying that you don’t want to keep me around?” Roger says now, in a hurt voice.
“What the fuck, Roger? You got upset when you thought I wanted to enslave you, and now you are hurt that I don’t want you?” I tell him incredulously.
“Hey! It’s been a long time, all right? I have been alone for a really long, long, long time,” he says defensively.
“How long is long?” I ask him, finally feeling the pain subside completely. I put my hand to my ear, and it feels whole again. Fuck, that’s a fast heal. Still hurt like shit, though.
“Well, the last time an Elveesian was here was well over 4 million years ago. But I finally had to use a pod to sleep. And that was over 100,000 years ago.”
“Shit, that’s a long fucking time, Roger. What’s a pod?” I ask him.
“It’s a magical device that the Elveesians built that stops the flow of time within it. When I go into it, it feels like no time passes. For me, it’s like I slept a good night’s sleep. I usually come out for a couple of thousand years and go back into it for another 100,000 years,” he says with a sigh.
“Can I sit down again, or are you going to try to attack me?” I ask him nervously.
“No, you’re good, Brandon. As long as you won’t enslave me?” he asks me questioningly.
“No, we are good. I don’t want to do that,” I tell him, sitting down. He has the grace to lower himself, so rather than looking up at him, he is at my eye level.
“So, what’s your story? You’re alive?” I ask him.
“Yes. I am a race create
d by the Elveesians. Promise not to laugh?” he asks me slowly.
“Of course! Why would I laugh?” I ask him.
Slowly he backs up, and somehow the black ball grows to twice its size until it’s about the size of a soccer ball. Whoa, damn, it can increase in size? Can it get smaller?
Without warning, the ball splits in half and opens up like a dome. Inside is something I would have never expected. It’s a small man. No, wait! It’s a tiny elf? He has ears like Silvana, but then as he stands up, I see he also has wings that fold out and open. They are as green as the leaves on the trees that surround us, as are his eyes. His hair is short and black, and he is wearing a black bodysuit.
“You’re a fucking Fairy?” I ask him in disbelief, my mouth open in shock.
“Yes! I am not like the Fairies in your head, though. We are a tough warrior race,” he says threateningly.
“All right! I get it. But,” and here I give him an odd look, “are you the only one? How come my kind has stories about Fairies and such? Are there more of you?”
Sighing, he sits back down on the inside of the ball and closes his eyes, before sighing again. “Yes and no. I am like those Fairies in your stories, and I am sure they are still around, but different,” he says.
“How so?” I ask him, curious.
“Well, just like how you differ from a human, or a Werewolf, or an Elf. And a Hellisian and an Elveesian. I am more than just a Fairy. I guess you can say I am the first of the Fairies. But I am also the Guardian of this world. Where most Fairies are creatures of magic, I am not. I am a creature of science and I cannot do magic,” he says sadly.
“What? The Elveesians didn’t give it to you?” I ask him in shock.
“No, as a Guardian, I was to oversee the technological side of things. So because of that, they denied my Race magic. I am what you would call, I guess, a Techno Fairy, to use some of your jargon. I am not a Magical Fairy.”
“Oh shit, that sucks! Wish there was something I could do to help you, dude. Too bad I can’t do what I did with my girls and just give it to you,” I tell him in sympathy.
“What?” he says, his green eyes opening so wide it amazes me.
