by J. P. Rice
“What are you talking about?” I asked, wondering how he fit a pill case into that tight back pocket.
Felix worked to pry a prescription bottle out of his pocket. He held it in front of his face. “I found someone who makes these pills that are full of calories, vitamins and minerals equal to a fully balanced meal. Saves me tons of time. I use water pills too.”
Alayna and I turned to each other as Burn scarfed down some bacon. I maintained eye contact with Alayna through her shades. “Say Felix. You think you could get both of those for our trip?”
He stuffed the case back into his rear pocket. “Sure thing. How many?”
Alayna and I smiled at each other and I shrugged. She said, “How about two hundred of each just to be safe?”
Felix exhaled another cloud of vape smoke, covering everything on the table. I had a feeling we were going to clash about this habit. The mage said, “I might need some cash, but I can make that happen.”
Alayna lifted her sunglasses and nodded confidently. “Perfect. Not having to worry about food and water is a major boon to this operation.”
Burn asked, “Are you from Pittsburgh, Felix?”
He stared out the window. “Nah. I’m from Seattle. My mom and dad still live out there.”
Burn followed up, “Why did you come to Pittsburgh?”
“The short answer is that an old wizard told me I needed to come here.”
“An old wizard in Seattle?”
“Yep. Lazuro was his name. Or is, hopefully. He owned a comic book store. My parents—they kind of looked at me as a burden. Comic heroes were my real family. The Thing was my favorite. And Lazuro had the best ones. One day he asked me to come down to the basement to see a special comic.”
I tried not to crunch into anything, which would interrupt his story. The lack of attention from his parents made perfect sense. I assumed that was why he had such a strong craving for the press to love him. Maybe I’d been a little harsh on the kid.
Felix continued, “I think I was like twelve or thirteen and when we got into the basement, there weren’t any comics. It was filled with books on Japanese magic. He gave me one book and told me to try some of the stuff in it. In private of course.”
He paused for a few moments. “I went back to him and showed that I could conjure fire and ice. From there, he took me under his wing and taught me almost all that I know. I consider him my real father even though we don’t talk much anymore.”
Alayna said, “Realizing your powers at twelve can be quite burdensome for just a boy. How come you and Lazuro don’t talk much now?”
He smiled and his dark eyes flashed with excitement as if he had great memories of Lazuro. “He’s old school. Only sends letters through snail mail. That’s it. And he’s not very good about getting to the post office. He has a brother in Pittsburgh named Fukutame. They can communicate telepathically so I get most of my updates on Lazuro from Fukutame.”
I was shocked. “They can communicate like that from all the way across the country? Over the Rocky Mountains?”
“Yes, sir,” Felix confirmed.
I wouldn’t have expected Felix to have such old-school mentors. How had he become so flashy? Was it so that he would be accepted by everyone? It seemed like he was searching for attention in one way or another.
I’d only learned about my powers two years ago when I was twenty-one. I had trouble imagining growing up with that secret. Hiding it from everyone else. Constantly feeling like a freak. Things today were very different from seven or eight years ago.
Luckily for Felix, magic practitioners were embraced in Pittsburgh now, especially by the press.
Felix looked around the table. “What’s the plan?”
I explained, “The plan is rather simple. We need to get a coin in a bar from a faun to get across Lake Geopold. Once we cross, it all depends on where we land. From there, Alayna will guide us into the great expanse to find the Horn.”
Burn asked, “When do we leave?”
I answered, “Our motley assemblage here will be leaving in two days. Do what you must to get ready.”
I felt a little better with a few more people coming on this journey. Burn smiled at me, her sleepy eyes fluttering. We needed to put the romantic stuff to the side until, at least, after the trip. The trip didn’t need any additional drama.
My heartbeat sped up as I imagined the trip ahead. Four strong magic practitioners invading a foreign land full of killers. What could go wrong?
I stuffed some eggs into my mouth. As I chewed, it really hit me that this was happening. I was officially leaving this world in the next few days.
Chapter 12
Warden of the East
In the middle of an evacuated city, four men sat around a conference table on the first floor of the PPG Place skyscraper. Maps of Pennsylvania, the surrounding states and the entire country lay on the lengthy mahogany table.
The Warden of the South said, “Seems queer sitting around here in this strange land with you three. We’ve been tasked with protecting Sleepy Willow. Say you, Sir North?”
“You worry too much. Nothing is going to happen back home. Soon enough we will seize control of Sleepy Willow and the earth’s surface. The curse can hold us back no longer,” added the Warden of the North.
The four main guardians of Sleepy Willow were known as Wardens. Each one was assigned to a directional quadrant of the land. They were referred to as Sir North, South, etc., but they were held in higher regard than a knight. The Wardens were the ultimate warriors and almost as powerful as the king.
The four sidhe men controlled the food supply coming into Sleepy Willow, which allowed them to exert influence over the land. There hadn’t been a major uprising in centuries, but unrest was brewing in certain pockets of the land. The Wardens ironically ruled with an iron fist considering they were vulnerable to the metal. They didn’t allow compassion to slow them down.
Sir West said, “We still need to go over the plan involving the king. It seems too risky if we should fail.”
The Warden of the East slammed his hand on the table, capturing the attention of the other men. “He’s given us no choice. Recently, he’s been consorting with devils from several pantheons, which is absolutely abominable. How soon he forgets about what Balor did. We all know his mental faculties have been slipping, but this proves his madness.”
Sir South added, “Which is as dangerous as can be.”
The Warden of the North backed him up. “Exactly. We must keep constant watch over him. I can’t believe we convinced him to invade the earth. He’d been reticent for so long, I wondered why he switched his attitude so fast. We just better hope those dragons don’t turn on us.”
The Warden of the East stood up. “I convinced him to do it. I told him if we could control the United States, we could export anything we wanted back to Sleepy Willow. And those dragons follow me more than our king.”
Sir West said, “But is that due to your association with the king or is it on a personal level? We can’t afford to get this wrong.”
The Warden of the East raised his voice, “They. Will. Follow. Me. There is no debate. Move to a different topic.”
A knock on the door prompted the Warden of the East to yell, “Enter.”
A sidhe page named Rory stepped into the conference room, and announced, “King Ballistar shall be arriving shortly.” He bowed, turned to leave and collapsed to the ground.
All four Wardens rushed over and turned the young man onto his back. His face was purple and he wasn’t breathing.
Sir South asked, “What the hell is going on? Is he dying?”
The Warden of the East inspected the young man for a few more moments. “He is dying, yes, but being immortal, he won’t stay dead if we hurry. This is a right reminder to stay on top of your pills. This city is dripping with iron. Let’s get him a pill or two and get him back to Sleepy Willow. He’ll be right as lightning soon enough.”
Sir North and Sir South worke
d together to drag the body outside the room and get the page help. They re-entered the room and shut the door. Sir North said, “Speaking of the iron pills, can we produce enough for this massive takeover?”
The Warden of the East explained, “Once we conquer a city, we will raze all the buildings and get rid of all the iron. We’ll send it to the bottom of the sea. Then we use the humans to build our new cities. Once this cycle starts, we will only need enough pills for the original take overs.”
A forceful knock arrested everyone’s attention.
Sir West spoke under his breath, “All salute the senile king.”
Sir South chuckled as the door swung open and the king hobbled into the room.
The one-thousand-six-hundred-and-forty-four-year-old King Ballistar had seen better days. Immortals aged differently, but also similar in a way to humans. Two people or sidhe could be the same age and look twenty or two hundred years apart.
The king had been aging gracefully until the crop curse in Sleepy Willow. The unsuccessful murder of his wife and the resulting starvation of his citizens had proved too much.
Guilt had eaten away at him over the past five hundred years, slowly pecking at him like a lazy crow. He preferred to take his anger out on his underlings. Despite his brilliant purple robes, stitched with golden thread and belted with a shimmering silver tie, the king always sported a dreary look on his face.
Although hard to see because of his wild beard and mustache, the corners of his mouth curled down naturally. The hair on his head and face was white as a ghost, except for some spots of black in his eyebrows. His sunken, dull brown eyes hid under a wrinkled forehead. Today, like most days, he carried a golden scepter that doubled as a cane instead of his crown that weighed down his weary head.
Despite his appearance of vulnerability, the king possessed amazing magic skills backed by a wealth of knowledge. If necessary, he could spring into action and do some major damage, if not kill everyone in sight.
The Warden of the East was privy to the rumor that the king was faking his feeble condition. He wasn’t sure what to believe, but he would never underestimate the king’s prowess in battle.
Two guards helped the king sit down in a chair at the head of the table.
The King spoke through his bushy mustache that covered his lips, “Where are we at? Have we won yet?”
The Wardens stood around the table, on the end near the king. Sir East bowed and addressed the king. “Highness, we are still in the preliminary stages.”
The forgetful king asked the same question he always asked at every meeting, “What’s our plan? Do we have one yet?”
Sir North dipped his head and said, “We do have a plan in order, highness. This is our first city to conquer. It shall go more speedily in the future. Next, we will leapfrog to Cleveland, Ohio and Baltimore, Maryland. After we seize control of the United States, we will branch out to other countries and continents.”
“Excellent, excellent. How long will this take?” asked the King, looking down and rubbing his eyebrows.
Sir South explained, “Your highness, it will take some time to execute the entire plan. Decades, if not centuries. However, we all know we have little choice...” he stopped suddenly.
The king, screechy voice filled with irritation, said, “We have no choice because this dimwitted pea brain from the east couldn’t kill a woman. Pathetic. He failed in his only duty and we’ve all suffered for the past five centuries. Look at him, he’s always been a failure. He better not fail in this endeavor.”
The Warden of the East lowered his head in shame. He was used to being belittled by the king, but that didn’t make him happy about it. The seven-hundred-and-two-year-old sidhe warrior had conflicting feelings about the king.
King Ballistar had ordered the killing of the Warden’s parents, but not before he had raped his mother. Then, in a surprise move, the king had selected the Warden to be trained as a guard. The Warden had developed a type of Stockholm syndrome concerning the king, and vacillated back and forth from hating to loving the man as a father.
It helped the Warden of the East develop a personal code of honor that he never broke for anyone. His code was vastly different from a noble superhero or most humans for that matter. The closest alignment would probably be the code of conduct for an organized crime family.
The Warden hated demons and devils passionately and finding out about the king associating with them had been the last straw. He’d turned on the king, and there was no turning back.
The king continued in his screeching voice, “The humans have been living too well for too long. Meanwhile, we are all cooped up in that cursed land with poisoned crops. We’ve suffered long enough.”
The Warden of the East agreed, “Exactly, highness. Every human will be killed or enslaved. Our dragons are itching to lay waste to this land.”
The king screamed, “My dragons. They don’t belong to you. They are my dragons, not yours. Don’t forget it.”
The Warden of the East bowed, and said softly, “That is what I meant, highness.”
“It’s not what you said.” The king slapped his scepter against the table to cap off his point. “And no one is authorized to command them under penalty of death. I make the final and only call on the dragons. Does everyone understand?” He pointed at them with his scepter.
In some form or fashion, all four men confirmed that they understood.
Thoughts of Rachella crept into the Warden’s head and he tried to flush them out.
Sir West asked, “Have we started the torture experiments yet?”
“What torture experiments?” asked the memory challenged king.
Seeing that the king was looking the other way, the Warden of the East rolled his eyes. “We are torturing humans to test their pain thresholds, but not kill them. We are also finding out which methods of torture motivate them.”
The king released an evil laugh, bordering on cackling. “Won’t be so bad if a few of them were to die.”
Sir West said, “You’ll be happy to know many of them have already perished. We are still early in the testing and analyzation phase. We are finding several methods that are eliciting a great response.”
The king stared at the Warden of the East. He wiped his mouth under the mustache overhang, and said, “And none of it would even be necessary if this sheep-biting codpiece could carry out a simple order. So cocksure until he’s asked to kill a woman.”
The Warden of the East stood still and took the verbal abuse. He’d gotten used to it over the past five centuries, but he smiled internally, biding his time until the assassination plot was realized. Memories of his only love rushed back into his head.
The Warden of the East had fallen in love when he was a young man. Rachella was a human who’d ended up in Sleepy Willow by chance. Their love burned as fierce as the morning sun. The Warden was convinced that he would spend the rest of his life with Rachella until he woke up one morning alone. As he frantically searched around for his love, one man told the Warden what had happened.
The man reported that he had seen Rachella frolicking in the fields with a human named Verboli. He said he’d watched them enter the portal leading to the earth’s surface. The Warden never saw his lover again, and a slow developing hatred for humans had been planted. Over the years, the bitterness had driven his hatred for humans to constant paranoia.
The heart wrenching experience had also caused him to hate women. The misogynistic Warden had no problem killing women because he felt that they were all the same. Out to hurt him eventually.
The king said, “This one better hope that the Dragon Horn story is nothing but a tale.”
The Warden of the East spoke with his normal vigor for the first time since the king had entered, “It. Is. A. Tale. Those dragons are dead and...”
The king screamed over him, “Don’t interrupt me before I finish. Now, what was I saying?”
Sir West reminded the king of the topic. King Ballistar continued, “
Right. If that Dragon Horn story is true, you will be the first person to die at my hand. And I will take great pleasure in it. You three, drop to one knee.”
All the men except the Warden of the East kneeled before the king. “If those other dragons ever come back to Sleepy Willow, I want you to pledge that you will strike the Warden of the East dead on the spot.”
Sir North pledged, “You have my word, your highness.”
Sir South promised, “As well as mine, highness.”
Sir West assured the king, “As you command, we shall follow.”
The oaths didn’t bother the Warden of the East. He was convinced that his associates were just placating the crazy king. At least, he hoped that was the case.
Chapter 13
The werebear bouncer dressed in biker gear stared down at Alayna, and said, “Get this rag-tag crew the fuck outta here. They’ll be chewed up and shit out within an hour.”
Jonathan said, “I believe the saying is ‘chewed up and spit out.’”
The werebear named Primero wore a black jean jacket covered with various patches. I focused on a skull-and-crossbones over the pocket near his heart. He had the form of a hirsute human crossed with a black bear but leaning more toward human features. He wore tight black leather pants and a red bandanna on his head.
He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear, stuffed it into his elongated mouth and lit it. He took a few drags and moved closer to us.
As smoke poured out of his mouth and nose, Primero spoke, “What? Why the fuck you chew something up and not swallow it? Pretty asinine.”
Jonathan shrugged and nodded, avoiding further confrontation.
The bouncer’s short fingers had trouble keeping control of the cigarette and he struggled to get another hit. “Vampire, are you vouching for these...these fools?”
Jonathan nodded slowly. The vampire was draped in a long gray trench coat with the entire group’s necessary items hidden within.
