by Ryan Attard
Gil blinked once, then twice. “Give me a minute to get ready,” she said.
***
We took turns watching over each other that night. Or rather, we took turns watching each other try to sleep. I kept twisting and turning, trying to find that one spot where my hip didn’t dig into some small stone. My thoughts wandered around, making sleep completely impossible.
The sun had just risen when we decided to venture out of our hidey-hole and find some food and drink. There was a stream up ahead from our cave, maybe an hour’s walk. We had to be careful and cover our tracks, but it wasn’t something we hadn’t done over and over again before. This forest was our playground, and those security guards in the mansion sure as hell would not find us unless we wanted to be found.
We sat down by the stream eating a protein bar and scooping water into our flasks. Gil sat quietly under a tree and was completely absorbed by the papers I’d given her. Before leaving Dad’s office last night, I had found a stack of papers and copied the entire ritual down. I also traced down the symbols on Mom’s coffin. It took me a few minutes as I worked automatically, ignoring everything around me, including the talkative cat statue. After reading those notes Gil came over to my side, figuratively speaking, although she did berate me for not including her in my grand plan of infiltration.
We were halfway through our breakfast when the black dog emerged from the bushes and came in full view. I had my hand on Djinn and extracted the blade for the first time since taking it from the coffin. Gil looked at the dog cautiously, then at my short sword, and back at the dog. It paced around with its head low and tongue hanging. It breathed heavily, as if it had run for miles. The wind picked up lightly, rustling leaves and causing them to tumble around in wide circles. The dog disappeared and Mephisto, in his impeccable suit and polished shoes, stood very still in its place. I raised my blade, pointing its tip toward the demon. There wasn’t much I could do if it came down to a showdown between us and Mephisto, but at least now I knew I could wound him, maybe take him down with me.
Mephisto slowly walked over to me, completely ignoring the sword pointed at him. He bent down and scooped up my water flask, draining it in one go.
“It took me five hours to track you down,” he said. A proud smile appeared on his face. “Well done.”
“Why are you here?” asked Gil.
“He probably wants to take us back,” I said.
“Yes, and no,” said Mephisto. He raised his hands. “I am here because it is time that someone divulged the whole truth to you, the descendants of the Ashendale clan.”
He motioned with his hands. “Please, sit and listen intently. We have little time if my plan is to work.”
We sat down in a circle, rolling boulders near each other. Mephisto removed his swallow-tailed jacket and dropped it carelessly on the ground. His white shirt shone bright as the sun’s rays hit him.
“First, I must explain my own situation,” he began. “If you remember my lesson on demons, you would remember also a small comment I made when I mentioned that some demons can be placed under contract with humans. This applies to me. I am bound to your father, forced to abide by his orders. It is not that straightforward, however. Demons bound by such a contract often find themselves being changed. Demons, you see, do not have such a thing as a personality – that is exclusively a human trait. When bound to a human, we often begin developing a personality similar to that of our owner. Over the years, I have become more power-hungry and unstable.”
“Yeah, we noticed,” I muttered.
“Yes, I must apologize for that.”
“What changed?” asked Gil.
“I had a revelation last night. Thanks to Erik, I communicated with my brother for the first time in centuries,” he replied as he smiled at me.
“Brother?” I asked. Did that mean there were more of his type out there? Talk about your nightmares. One was already a handful — the last thing the world needed was two manipulating demons.
“The cat,” replied Mephisto. “His name is Amaymon.”
“Oh, yeah. He did mention he had an asshole for a brother.”
“Yes, we disagree on most things. It is our nature. But we do agree on one thing: no one must tamper with our nature. Your father is changing me, turning me into a twisted version of himself. This will lead to a situation where, one day, he will completely subdue me, and that must never happen,” he said emphasizing the last few words.
“In light of that, I managed to find a loophole in my contract with your father, and this is why I am here, now,” he continued.
“Well, that’s nice and all,” I said. “But I’m more interested in the whole family secret thing.”
“Yes, I was just coming to that,” replied the demon. “It all began in a time before time. These events occurred so long ago that most of them were not recorded, due to language having not yet fully developed. The magical community consisted of clans, large collectives of families who all had an ancestor in common. The Ashendale clan was a prominent clan of warlocks, wizards who dedicated themselves to exploring the worlds beyond this one. They invaded and conquered wherever they went, often enslaving the population for their knowledge and powers. They established themselves as one of the most powerful magical clans in the history of this plane.
“Everything, however, changed at the height of their prominence. Nothing was documented about the world they invaded, save that many of those who returned called its inhabitants gods. The clan conquered a small fraction of this world before it began to collapse on itself. This was a fragile world, held together by a delicate balance. A balance that your distant ancestors upset. What followed next is highly ambiguous, and most of it is driven from speculation, but we think the so-called gods placed a curse on their invaders in retaliation. Your father is obsessed with finding out what this curse is. In simplified terms, all the power is siphoned from the elder members of the clan and passed through the younger generation as they grow. Eventually, the only members with any power would be the last generation, leaving the others as powerless husks of their former selves.”
“So, this is what’s happening now?” asked Gil. “We are absorbing our Dad’s power?”
“Your father has the collective power of all the previous members of the clan. He is the last Ashendale, now that your mother has passed. Your father made sure to eliminate any other members of the bloodline, monopolizing his power.”
“That can’t be good news for us,” I remarked.
“No. You are at the top of his list of people to eliminate,” replied Mephisto. “The Ashendale clan imposed two laws on its people. The first was that no family could sire more than one child. This made sure that the elder members would have some power remaining, even with the curse still active. The second was that Ashendale members had to breed with other members, so as to keep the powers within the clan.”
“Eww. Inbreeding and incest,” said Gil with a look of repulsion on her face.
“Now I know why we never had any black cousins,” I said with a grin.
“It was a necessary survival tool,” replied Mephisto. “This situation is troubling for your father. Not only are his powers decreasing, but they are being split in two, because there are two of you.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” I asked. “The less power he has, the less trouble he gives us.”
“Yes, that would be the case, if it were not for Alastair Crowley. That man is giving power to your father, supplying it like a drug. And once the Siphoning Ritual is complete, your father will become more powerful than you could ever imagine.”
That pretty much silenced us.
“Your father’s time is limited. He must complete the Ritual tonight, before his powers deplete to the point of uselessness. Crowley’s aid would only suffice for a few more weeks before taking their toll,” said Mephisto.
“Why?” Gil slapped her fist on the stack of papers on her lap. “Why would a father want to kill his own children? What p
ower could ever be worth all that?”
“This one,” replied Mephisto without so much as a pause. “Imagine the power to reshape the world as he sees fit, to control everything and everyone. He could extinguish lives with a mere thought, and he could even resurrect the dead. He could resurrect your mother.”
“And for that, he kills his children?” she screamed back. Gil had tears streaking down her face. Her knuckles were white as she slammed them on the papers before throwing them off her lap.
“Your father is a madman,” said Mephisto.
“And the worst thing madmen can have is power. Their worst nightmare is losing that power,” I said. “We are no longer important to him, Gil.”
“And you can just accept that?” she directed at me.
“Yes. Because he’s never shown any form of love or care toward us. He kept us simply to kill us when the time is right,” I replied, louder than I had intended. I took a few deep breaths. “I’ve seen what he’ll do to us.” I stabbed Djinn into the ground in front of us. “He’ll use that to stab us. He’ll start with you and make me watch. Then, he’ll kill me. All the while, Crowley is eating our mother’s corpse. You wanna know why I’m accepting this? Because if I don’t, the one person in my life that I truly care about will die.”
Gil looked down and wiped her tears away. “When did you see it?”
“The Baku’s poison. It’s a hallucinogen of sorts.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I need you with me on this, Gil.”
She nodded, her eyes hard.
“Well,” said Mephisto. “Now that you two are done with your heart-to-heart, shall we move on to the plan I devised?”
When we said nothing, he continued.
“Yesterday, I went to your father’s office after you broke in. It was a sloppy infiltration, mind you. I went there with the intention of removing any trace of sabotage. However, I discovered that a certain artifact,” he said pointing at Djinn with a gloved finger, “was missing. So, I made sure to cover Erik’s tracks and told my master that a mysterious person broke in yesterday. After outrunning me and knocking you out after entering your room by mistake, he disappeared. I then instructed you to hide in the forest for safety as I made sure that no further intruders were lurking around.”
“And he bought that?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“Yes. After he saw that the sword was missing he ceased to care about anything else,” replied the demon. “He has summoned you this morning for breakfast. I suggest that you hide that weapon, Erik, and both of you stick to my story.”
“What is that sword?” asked Gil.
“A very powerful relic,” replied Mephisto. “It was a channel, one of the special ones I told you about. It belonged to an ancestor from your mother’s side. And it is now Erik’s personal channel of power.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?” she asked me.
“I’m still trying to figure it out myself,” I replied.
“Be that as it may, that artifact may no longer be used for the nefarious purpose your father planned for it,” said Mephisto. “But as long as he has Crowley to supply power, your mother’s corpse, and you two, he may still enact the Ritual.”
“So, how do we stop him?” I asked.
Mephisto stood up and picked up his jacket. “Play along for now. Go back home, act indifferent. Once you are finished seeing your father, meet me for a lesson. We will discuss a plan of action and examine the details of the Ritual.” His form shimmered and he transformed into a large, black dog.
“Thank you,” said Gil as she stood and began gathering her stuff. The dog turned its snout to face us.
“Everything in this world has a price,” it said with a low voice. “My services included.”
25
“Daddy!”
Gil ran the last few steps and threw her arms around our father. Dad hugged her back as she dug her head in his shoulder and began sobbing.
It seemed a little over the top to me, but I suppose to someone who barely knew his own children, nothing would seem out of the ordinary. Gil was a good actress. Dad was completely taken by her performance.
I lingered a few feet away, bending and trying not to fall down from exhaustion. It wasn’t completely an act. After an adrenaline-fueled evening, where I received a permanent emotional scar and a sleepless night in a forest full of lurking monsters, it wasn’t acting. I really was tired.
Just not as tired and weak as I was letting on. When Dad came looming over me, I was down on one knee, panting hard. It was a psychological message — I bow to you, my superior. I hated myself for acting all weak and submissive. But it was vital for him to think that we were nothing but two teenage children with little control over our powers, and no clue as to what was awaiting us once night fell.
Dad placed his hand on my shoulder and helped me up.
“Are you alright, son?” he said. I could see traces of concern behind his spectacles. Perhaps there was still some humanity inside him.
“I’m fine. Just had a tough night,” I replied, without making too much eye contact. I wasn’t exactly subtle with my feelings. I was afraid of showing him too much, of giving off some signal that would jeopardize our faked innocence.
“Understandable,” replied my father. “Both of you need to rest after such a night. But first, go shower off the filth and join me for breakfast.” His tone was so sweet and caring. It shouldn’t be allowed. Bad people should just speak with subtle growls and no emotion. For a second, I couldn’t believe that this bespectacled, middle-aged, wiry guy in front of me was a psychotic maniac who was going to sacrifice his children for the sake of power. For the briefest of moments, I could actually believe he was a caring father, acting all concerned when his twin children showed up on his doorstep covered in grime and exhausted. I could believe that he was capable of something called love.
Then again, crocodiles always smile as they bite your head off.
Our dining area consisted of a huge room decorated with ostentatious, tall portraits of some very unfortunate-looking family members who were either naturally ugly or unlucky enough to find a dyslexic painter. The rectangular table wasn’t too long, just enough to seat twenty people. Although, I’m not sure why we needed such a table — we were just a family of four.
I mean, three.
And Gil and I never sat here. This room made me nervous. It seemed like something straight out of Macbeth, and we all know how well that ended.
On this happy occasion, our father decided to open the tall windows on one side, bathing the room in sunlight. The white cloth glowed as if made out of neon. I picked the chair facing the window, with Gil sitting opposite me. Dad sat between us at the head of the table.
The spread was fantastic, and it was the one thing I was actually looking forward to. Say what you will about rich people — they know their food. As soon as I sat down I drank an entire jug of water before wolfing down the pancakes with something close to a fervency. Anything within arm’s reach I clawed at and stuffed into my mouth. Fruit, pastries, cupcakes, you name it. Screw acid reflex. After the night I had, the deer population in Trinity Forest was lucky I didn’t gun for it.
“So, yeah,” I said between mouthfuls. “I followed the guy as he ran out of your office. Didn’t get a good look though. That corridor needs better light. When I got too close, I got knocked out. Must have been some kinda spell or the bastard had a friend around. When I came to, Mephisto told us to run for it and stay there until he came to pick us up. Said it was safer since someone got in without an invitation.”
Gil nodded a lot and quietly drank her juice. Dad pushed his coffee cup against his lips and took a tentative sip.
“Well, an investigation is underway,” he said. His eyes twinkled. “I’m glad both of you are safe.”
“Did they take anything?” I asked, casually spearing the pancakes with a fork.
“Just a ve
ry precious and sentimental artifact,” replied Dad. “I will get it back, don’t you worry.”
There it was. A small sliver of hatred in his eyes, peeking out from behind the mask. Anyone else would have chalked it up to being pissed off at the robbers. But I was looking for something, anything, to silence that hopeful voice in my head that kept telling me that it was all a dream or a misunderstanding, or some other crap. That glimpse into the darkness inside my father renewed my conviction. I nodded and dug my head behind my pancake. Anything not to look in his direction.
“But do not worry about such little things,” continued my father. “In fact, how about tonight we have a light snack instead of a dinner and spend the night watching the stars? It’s a moonless night tonight, but with some luck we can still get a starry sky. Did you know that this area is one of the last few areas in North America where you can actually see a full starry sky and not just a few constellations? We should spend some time together, make up for all the times I was too busy.”
Gil looked at me with a confused look. I suppose Dad’s charms worked better on her — she hadn’t seen what I had, after all. I stared back at her with a hard look and turned to our father.
“That sounds nice, Dad,” I said. “We have a lesson this afternoon. How about after we finish?”
“Yes, of course. I look forward to it.”
Breakfast didn’t last much longer after that. We remained at the table for ten minutes, eating at a slower pace now that we were no longer on the verge of starvation, and after a while we excused ourselves.
***
“That was… different,” said Gil, the moment we were alone in our study.
“He’s a bastard, Gil. It was a mask, a rehearsed speech,” I retorted. “No second thoughts,” I added.
“I wasn’t having any,” she replied coldly.
“Good, because we have a lot of work to do,” came a cold voice behind us. Mephisto came into view and sat down.
“I managed to get a sample of the chemical Crowley is providing your father, as well as more details on the Siphoning Ritual,” he continued. “It seems that your father requires both of you as well as your mother for the Ritual.”
