by R. J. Wolf
“Ignore it,” Gary said with a stern face. “We all hear them. We all lust after that power, but it corrupts the soul.”
Eric laughed. “Not sure my soul can get much worse. So, you gonna tell me what all that was back there?”
“These diamonds…they don’t belong here.” Gary reached over the seat and grabbed the bag then opened his door. He stepped out of the car and rolled his shoulders. “Come on…I need to talk with Noll right now.”
Eric swallowed and paused before closing the door. “Something isn’t right about this,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Something…something doesn’t feel right.”
“I told you, the diamonds aren’t normal. Just try to ignore it.”
“It’s not that…something isn’t right in there,” Eric replied and nodded toward the hotel.
Gary followed his eyes and grimaced. “There’s always something wrong in there. You’ll get used to it.”
He started toward the door and Eric lingered behind him. He knew it was more than just a feeling from the hotel. Something terrible awaited them inside and while he couldn’t make heads or tails of it, he trusted his instinct.
Closing his eyes, he let his darkness reach out, using its immense power to probe the inner workings of the mysterious building. He felt the darkkin amassing in staggering numbers. He felt their evil power growing as they came together like a pack of wolves. But he also felt something else.
It wasn’t dark or evil, but it was plenty powerful. He’d never felt it before, but he’d never forget it. And that was the force he was worried about.
“Gary,” Eric called out.
Gary had already pushed open the doors and was heading inside. Eric grumbled then hurried to catch up. They stepped into the lobby and he grabbed Gary’s arm and pulled him close.
“I’m serious,” he whispered. “Something isn’t right in here.”
Gary started to reply but froze as an icy chill rushed through his body. A pale man standing at the front desk turned to face them, his eyes lingered on Eric as his hand slipped beneath his dark, gray robe. Gary took a step backward and mumbled a hushed incantation.
“I’ll show you to the elevators,” Safron announced and ushered the pale man forward. “Ah, Mr. Abbot and Mr. Strange. I hope your day was enjoyable. Will you be joining us for tonight’s festivities?”
“Safron?” Eric said as he turned toward Fostu, his heart beating in his chest like a war drum.
CHAPTER 3
THE ASSASSIN
Eric could feel the attack before it happened. He felt the energy surge in the mysterious man right before he lashed out. He felt the air change and the buildup of anticipation. He didn’t know how or why, but he knew it was coming.
The man’s hand zipped from beneath his robe in a flash of light. He charged through Gary’s spell and lunged across the lobby.
Straining, Eric leaned back just as the gleaming dagger carved through the air in front of him. The blade sung as it sliced through the tiny particles, igniting every molecule it touched. Before he could recover the man called Fostu spun and sent a wave of energy charging toward him.
“Take it,” a voice spoke inside of Eric’s head, awakening to defend against the assailant.
Fighting against reason, Eric didn’t move and took the full force of the spell. It slammed into his chest and he could feel the writhing power blazing through his body. It boiled inside of him and he roared as the foreign energy coursed through his veins.
“Use it!”
As if it was his own, Eric unleashed the stolen power from his hands. A ball of electric energy jolted forward, hitting Fostu in the face and sending him tumbling onto the floor. Eric dove and landed on top of him then wrestled the dagger from his hands. It slid across the stone and Eric scrambled after it.
“Aspernti!” Gary cried.
A cord of golden light shot from his hand and snared Fostu by the leg. Gary yanked it back and Fostu squirmed as the lasso moved its way up his waist.
“I’ve got his little knife,” Eric groaned as he pushed himself to his feet.
“You okay?” Gary asked. “That spell should’ve killed you.”
Eric looked down to the smoldering hole in his t-shirt. Pieces of charred fabric fell and crumbled to the floor, but he was unharmed. Shrugging, he held his hands up then glared at his attacker.
“Who are you?” Gary shouted.
The man didn’t reply.
Eric held out the dagger. “What is this? I can hear it.” He twisted his face in confusion as a chorus of hushed voices seemed to amplify from the blade.
Fostu turned his head to face Eric and smiled. He started a rapid chant under his breath, his lips barely moving. The words tied together like a knotted vine, slithering from his snake-like tongue. Gary could feel the change, but he was too slow to react.
Suddenly, the golden rope ripped from Gary’s hands and reared into the air. The frayed edge split and turned into the head of a massive Cobra. Gary barely had time to conjure a weak defensive spell as it struck. The sheer force knocked him across the lobby.
Fostu rose to his feet and summoned the dagger by name. “Valesi,” he cried. The powerful weapon tore itself from Eric’s grip and sailed to its rightful master.
“Stop this now!” Safron screamed in a booming voice.
Fostu spared a quick glance over his shoulder and sneered. Gary was intertwined with the golden serpent doing his best to parry its multiple strikes. He’d been bitten, and his magic was waning, but as the air sizzled with power it was certain that he was still very much in the fight.
Safron rallied the other employees and they slowly began to encircle Fostu. He laughed at them then thrust his hands out to the side. An invisible field slammed to the ground between them, shutting out Safron and everyone else except Eric and Fostu.
“No!” Safron screamed.
Fostu turned back to face Eric. He twirled the dagger from one hand to the other with a crooked grin spread across his face.
“Mr. Strange,” he said in a bearish voice. “Know that I don’t take pleasure in this. But what is done, must be undone.”
Eric took half a step back and mumbled, “What?” The words had just left his mouth when Fostu slung the dagger at him. The glimmering steel burned through the air like a flash of lightning. Eric twisted, and the dagger sliced through his arm and hit the invisible barrier behind him.
It ricocheted from the force field with a bell-like gong and returned to Fostu’s hand. In shock, Eric looked down at his shoulder, pressing his hand against the pulsing wound. The jagged laceration burned like someone had poured fire into his blood.
Grimacing, he looked out to the lobby as Gary yelled for him and beat his hands against the powerful barrier. Anger rose in his chest and his eyes flashed the color of death. Clenching his jaw, he pushed the darkness back down and turned to face his attacker.
“Who are you?” he growled. “What do you want?”
Fostu narrowed his eyes and began to circle Eric as he planned his next move. He could feel Eric’s power rising and a shadow of fear simmered inside of him. He searched the hotel for energy he could use, but only evil hummed in the walls. He needed something pure something untainted by the darkkin. Druid’s used earth magic, they bent the natural world to their will. The energy inside of the hotel, it was all wrong, it came from Hell.
Eric could feel the power too, just as strongly as the curse, crawling its way through his body from the dagger. The air was alive with magic and he shouted down the calls from his inner demon, begging for him to absorb it and unleash death and destruction.
“No,” he grumbled through a tight jaw.
His anger slowly quelled and for the first time he felt something else reaching out to him. Something more powerful than the darkness, but not vile and tainted. Something that felt more like himself.
“We are here,” a voice said softly.
Eric felt the unfamiliar force vibrate through
out his body then a blinding pain shot up his arm and he collapsed to one knee. He closed his eyes, roaring in agony as he felt fibers of skin in his arm, pulling themselves back together. His body was healing itself.
“Get up!” the new voice urged him.
Something jolted him forward and he opened his eyes just as Fostu poised to send another attack. Eric jumped to his feet and spun out of the way, letting Fostu’s spell skip past him. He could feel the heat radiating from the hex as it collided with the barrier and was absorbed.
Fostu sent another spell and Eric swatted it to the side like an annoying bug. His hand moved without thought and for a brief moment he felt an eerie connection to his attacker. Contorting his face, he stared at the man and from the look in his eyes, Fostu could feel the connection as well.
“What, what are you?” Fostu stammered.
Eric shrugged as his inner battle boiled to the surface. “Kill the druid,” the evil voice begged.
“Druid?” Eric asked. “You’re a druid?”
Fostu dropped his jaw and took a step backward. Blinking, he shook his head and refocused. “Who do you speak with?”
“What?”
“I can hear the whispers…the voices in your head. Who do you speak with?”
Eric didn’t respond. He glared at Fostu and tried to quiet the demonic rambling, bouncing around his skull. Fostu stared back and shook his head.
“Don’t worry, I’ll put an end to your suffering.”
Eric frowned. “Or maybe I’ll put an end to yours, druid.”
Smiling, Fostu sheathed his dagger then raced forward. He moved with blinding speed and before Eric could react, he punched him in the face with a right hook. Eric doubled over as Fostu’s knee slammed into his stomach and he gagged then fell to the ground.
Fostu placed his hand on Eric’s head and tilted it back. He stared into his eyes then punched him again in the nose. Blood exploded from Eric’s face and he dropped to all fours as Fostu paced in a circle around him.
“Kill the druid!” the darkness urged Eric. “Kill him now!”
He ignored the evil commands. Swallowing a mouthful of blood, he staggered to his feet, struggling to contain the evil power. The darkness inside of him wanted revenge and it took everything within him to keep it at bay.
“What do you want from me?” Eric asked, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
Fostu grinned. In a poetic dance, he gripped the dagger and spun toward Eric. With one hand on Eric’s shoulder, he swung the other and plunged the magical blade into Eric’s stomach.
“Argh!” Eric bellowed and slumped forward.
Fostu grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into an almost friendly embrace, shoving the dagger deeper. Eric collapsed into him and Fostu turned into his ear and whispered.
“I’m sorry my friend, but you must die. It’s the only way.”
He twisted his hand then yanked the dagger back and let Eric fall to the ground. Blood gleamed from the blade and dropped onto the marble floor, dancing across the stone.
Eric blinked wildly, pressing his hands against the gushing wound. In disbelief, he lay on his back staring up toward the ceiling at a mural depicting an ancient battle between demons and angels. He could hear voices mumbling in the distance, but everything was starting to fade.
He shivered as the trepidation of dying again, latched onto him like a leech. The feeling was familiar, like he was greeting an old friend. A friend he never wanted to see.
Suddenly Fostu’s face came into view as he leaned over him. “You proved worthy,” he said. “But the light always wins. I regret what I had to do.”
Eric groaned then he felt a darkness shoving him to the side. He was too weak to resist, and his fear of death made him vulnerable. As his life poured onto the hotel floor, he closed his eyes and gave in.
The evil power ignited a spark inside. With an angry moan, he rolled over and staggered back to his feet. Fostu shuffled away and raised the dagger, ready to strike again. Eric smiled, and as his blood rolled down Fostu’s blade, it turned to black and the enchanted weapon melted in his hand.
“No!” Fostu cried. “No! What are you doing?”
Eric laughed, but it wasn’t his own. With narrowed eyes, he advanced on Fostu and raised his hands into the air. Fostu seethed and conjured a spell, pouring in every ounce of energy he had left.
“Kill the druid!” the voice in Eric’s head commanded again.
Eric brought his hands down, unleashing a wave of power. Fostu charged and fired his spell at the same time. The magic collided and arched into the sky like two converging waves.
Fostu was thrown back by the blast. The barrier he’d constructed was obliterated, and he sailed through the air and slammed into the wall on the other side of the lobby.
Eric wailed and lurched forward as he wrestled back control. He stumbled, and Gary rushed to his side and grabbed him before he collapsed.
“What the hell just happened?”
“I don’t know,” Eric replied as he glanced around with a wild look on his face.
Safron was standing near the front desk, fangs bared, eyes gleaming with rage. Another vampire was standing beside him, but everyone else had left the lobby.
Leaning against Gary, Eric hobbled toward Fostu’s smoldering body. Bits of rock had fallen off the wall from the impact and were partially covering him.
“Safron, who is this?” Gary asked.
“I do not know, but I will find out.”
Eric nudged the body with his foot, but it didn’t move. He kicked him hard then did it again several times, ignoring the condemning sideways glance from Gary.
“I think he’s dead,” Eric announced.
“What is that?” Gary asked and held out his hand.
On the back of the man’s calf was a branding. It was a triangle with two vertical lines running down the middle. Eric leaned down to get a better look and suddenly Fostu’s leg snapped out and kicked Eric in the chest.
Fostu jumped to his feet, his eyes raging, his face ready for battle. Snarling, he scanned the lobby then leapt forward and sprinted for the exit. As Gary sent a spell tumbling after him, he burst through the doors and apparated.
CHAPTER 4
THE DRUID’S CURSE
Fostu reappeared on a crowded street and quickly fell in step with the swarm of partygoers. No one gave him a second glance as they hurried along the sidewalk vanishing into bars and ear-splitting night clubs.
“I’ve failed,” Fostu mumbled and turned down the first alley he crossed.
Hobbling, he scampered into a cluster of shadows and fell to his knees. His body ached and his pride burned with defeat. But he knew the cost of his failure and was prepared to pay it.
A cold chill rushed over him and his arms erupted in goosebumps. The street lights flickered and dimmed as a blackness swept in, moving like it was alive. The void filled the alley, draining away all of the light and warmth.
“He still lives,” a voice spoke from the darkness.
Fostu shrank at the sound and turned his head away. He swallowed down his shame and choked. Gagging, he gasped for air that wouldn’t come then fell face first into the asphalt.
“You knew the stakes,” the voice said coldly. “Speak!”
Air rushed into Fostu’s lungs and he blinked tears from his eyes. With a deep breath, he pushed himself to his knees and stared into the shadows. “There’s, there’s something else there. More than we know.”
“Excuses!”
“No. He had help.”
“You were forewarned of the warlock’s abilities. You should have taken the proper precautions, Fostu.”
“It wasn’t the warlock. The psychic, he speaks to the shadows, he has a connection to the ethereal realm, it is unlike any I’ve ever seen.”
“Impossible.”
Fostu sighed and twisted his face into a painful frown. Shaking, he slowly rose to his feet, and tried to balance on rickety legs. He sniffled then untied
his robes and let them fall to the floor, revealing his scarred and peeling skin. Large blotches of his torso were discolored, the skin was rotting and falling away. Black ichor seeped from festering gashes, rolling down his legs and covering his feet.
Fostu lifted his head and stared into the swarming, black mass. “His magic destroyed Valesi. The bond has been broken.”
“Your shell was not meant to last. Another must be found. But what you say cannot be true, he is only a means to an end. The fallen have always presented our greatest threat.”
“Not anymore,” Fostu replied grimly. “What I say is true. They have returned.”
There was a long silence as Fostu’s words echoed through the alley. He shivered and stared into the darkness, awaiting what he knew was coming. His end was inevitable but he’d felt something that night, something that made him question everything he’d known.
“Father?” Fostu finally whispered.
“The brotherhood must keep the faith,” the voice replied. “We will proceed as planned.”
“I understand.” Raising his arms, Fostu closed his eyes, and leaned his head back. A violent shock ripped through his body and he let out a painful growl. He staggered as the burning sensation lessened and he could feel part of himself slip away.
“Let the pain cleanse you. Accept it.”
Fostu straightened up and nodded. He took a deep breath and braced himself. “I am ready.”
“You will be reborn; your magic will continue to flow until you have fulfilled your destiny. Let this pain remind you of the cost of failure.”
Before Fostu could respond another jolt of pain hit him. His back spasmed and he fell forward, landing on all fours. This time the pain didn’t stop. He felt shock after shock, tearing through him like he was being ripped apart from the inside.
His screams were terrifying. A ballad of death and agonizing pain that seemed to have no end. Tears of blood poured down his cheeks as he collapsed face first into the asphalt and broke into spine-altering seizures. He tried to breathe but every gasp was razors slicing into his chest. Every exhale a hammer slamming into his back. He was in state of perpetual torture, writhing across the ground.
