Birthright - Book 2 of the Legacy Series (An Urban Fantasy Novel) (21 page)

“Deal. Don’t screw me over, Alastair,” I heard Dad reply. “If I go down, we both fall together.”

I turned my head toward Gil, who swallowed hard and closed her eyes tightly. The poor girl was pushing back tears.

“Heard enough?” I whispered.

She nodded, and her eyes darkened with conviction.

“Make Crowley pay,” I said. “Dad’s mine.”

We stood up, and I took a step backwards. I could feel my power building up and itching to explode. I kicked out, and the door flew off its hinges with a loud bang. Inside, I saw Dad and Crowley holding a leather-covered box, the type nineteenth-century doctors used to store chemicals.

The blade shone azure, and from its tip shot a blast of blue energy, headed straight at the two men. The table behind them exploded, and the two were sent flying apart from each other. The box careened into the air and disappeared behind the many tables and storage lockers.

“Hi, Dad,” I said with a slight growl in my voice. I lifted Djinn, its blade emitting menacing light and power. “Looking for this?”

“The Athame,” croaked Crowley. At the sound of his voice, I heard Gil let out a snarl and a lance of orange flame shot at him. Crowley yelped like a puppy and scrambled on all fours away from the fire. His fedora was smoking on his head.

Gil took a deep breath and pursed her lips. She let out a whistle. The sound increased in intensity until our ears rang, and the high-pitch of the whistle became a ringing siren. Dad and Crowley rolled in agony on the floor, and I found myself pressing my palms against my ears and hunching forward. Something trickled between my fingers. In between the spasms and rolls of my father I noticed blood oozing from his ears and between his fingers. Crowley had ripped off one glove, exposing a gnarled blue-gray hand with two-inch yellow nails on each bony finger. He clawed at his ears, squeezing the air around them. Slowly, he managed to crawl on all fours, away from his position and toward the fire escape that would lead him up to the ground floor of the mansion.

Gil’s whistle spell stopped abruptly. She sucked in a deep breath and hyperventilated for a few seconds, giving Crowley the time he needed to make for that fire escape. My head rang from the spell, but already I could feel warmth around my ears and head. As I healed, I found the strength to stand upright.

“A little warning next time,” I directed toward Gil. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath.

“Wasn’t sure if that would work or not,” she said. She took a step after Crowley. “He’s mine.”

“Happy hunting,” I said as I faced my father, who still rolled on the ground in agony.

“You, too.” And she walked away. She never looked at our father — not when we burst in, not when I threw that energy wave, or when she nearly burst their eardrums. She never made eye contact, not even when she was leaving him to die by my hands.

“Erik,” I heard Dad say. He slowly got up to one knee. “Erik, my son. Why?” His tone was apologetic and surprised. As if he didn’t plan to kill us. As if he were the perfect father and we were the rebels.

And I just couldn’t take it.

“Fuck you!” I yelled as I swung the short sword at him. A crescent-shaped wave of blue energy shot at him along the direction of the swing. My dad, along with the table behind him and all of its contents, were sent flying.

How dare he? How dare he pretend to be a good guy? How dare he make Gil hurt? How dare he use my dead mother’s body for some sick experiment? How dare he, how dare he, how dare he?

I kept swinging Djinn wildly around me, streaking waves of azure energy all over the place. This building was sick — toxic. This is what led to the curse in the first place. My family wanting to explore, to go further. They conquered and killed — we captured and dissected. All for what? Just so we could have power. Why does power matter so much? Why couldn’t we just enjoy what we had?

Why did my mother have to suffer?

I stopped throwing energy waves around when I felt empty again. It was like I had unleashed all the pent-up feelings inside me. Now, I could think clearly. Now, I could fight. Now, I could kill this bastard, burn the place down, and start fresh. Maybe give my sister and myself a semblance of a normal life. This was it, right here. The beginning of the end.

My father sat up and ran his hands down himself, checking for permanent damage. The bastard was lucky — just a scar and some bruising. I hadn’t focused my power properly. I just wanted to destroy things.

But now, I could think straight. This time, he wouldn’t survive it.

He reached for Crowley’s case and opened it. All the vials were shattered and the purplish liquid oozed uselessly from the case. He stood up and threw it away.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” he snarled at me. “Do you know how much you’ve set me back?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” I replied.

He slapped the coffin beside him. “It was for her,” he screamed. “It was always for her. I could have brought her back to life. I could have brought all of you back to life. Once I had that power.”

“Get away from her,” I said.

He ignored me. “I could have given you anything. I could have done anything. It’s the power of the gods, Erik, and we have it.”

I didn’t really hear him. I was too angry as I watched him slap the lacquered black coffin with every exclamation. I swung the sword around and threw another wave of energy. Dad screamed something indistinguishable and held his hands out. Energy blasted around him, but never touched him.

“I’ve been a warlock far longer than you have been, boy,” he said.

“You’re a washed up has-been,” I shot back. “When was the last time you actually went up against a monster?”

His expression darkened. “I may have my handicaps, but I am more than capable of taking you down, whelp.” He reached inside his robe and pulled out a small vial with the tiniest of syringes attached to it. He stabbed it into his thigh and injected himself with violet liquid.

“Handicap, my ass,” I said. “You’re nothing but a junkie.”

He responded by snapping out his palm, sending a torrent of fire my way. I swung Djinn upwards and shot out my own spell. Red flame met azure energy halfway through its journey and exploded. Debris clouded the battlefield. I heard crackling and saw something white and crystalline shoot at me, too fast to dodge. Pain flared from my shoulder, and I looked down.

A long spike of ice went through my shoulder, its sharp tip emerging from the other side. The spike’s shaft went on until I saw it was attached to my father’s fingers. I swung my blade on the spike, breaking it. The ice melted into a puddle of water and evaporated with a hiss. I struck the shard of ice still impaling my shoulder with the pommel of my sword and pulled the tip out. The ice evaporated and my healing magic took over.

I yelled and shot two streaks of energy at him. He ducked under the first, but the second one, at a slightly lower angle, caused him to buckle as he blocked it. He flicked his palm and slapped it on the ground and I felt something cold wrap around my ankles. Shadows in the form of black tendrils shackled my legs to the ground. My dad grabbed the metal leg off a table and wrenched it apart. He smeared some blood on it and the pipe transmuted, its tip warping on itself, becoming a spike.

Before he took the first step toward me, I stabbed the ground with Djinn and channeled my magic. The tiled floor cracked and shattered, disrupting his shadow spell. I pushed even more energy into the ground. The blast lifted me into the air, and I twisted and somersaulted. Djinn’s blade had elongated to the size of a full broadsword, and its blade shone azure. At the end of my summersault, I landed right above my dad and swung the sword at him.

My Dad brought his hands together. A desk moved in front of me, blocking my strike. I yelled louder and swung through the furniture. My strike was enough to bisect the desk, sending the pieces away, but not enough to cut through the metal pipe. He blocked my strike and we stood there in a blade lock for a few seconds, just pushing against each other. Djinn’s elongated blade shattered like glass as my concentration wavered, and the short sword shrunk back to its original size. Dad smiled, thinking he had the advantage.

My hand-to-hand combat training took over the moment I came face-to-face with him. I angled my blade so that his spike moved away from my face. My knee shot into his gut, doubling him over. Before he could bend completely my fist caught his throat, sending him a few steps backwards. He gasped for breath and found it after the fourth try. I closed our distance, but he kept me back with the pipe. Smearing more blood on it, the pipe elongated into a spear and he began stabbing wildly with it. He hoped the longer weapon would keep me at bay and safeguard him from my attacks. But it was years since he had done any serious training, and I was fresh off the wagon.

I blocked a strike and vaulted over the pole. My leg shot forward, catching him in the chest. I pulled the spear, and he stumbled toward me as I spun my sword and slashed. He yelled in pain as a deep cut across his chest and shoulder appeared. I slid Djinn down the length of the spear and channeled a small blast of power. The weapon shot from his hands and clattered ten feet away. I moved in for the kill. My father snapped the heel of his palm at me and a blast of air punched into my stomach. The shot was enough to lift me off my feet and throw me across the room.

As I gasped for breath and tried to get back on my feet, I saw him pull out another vial and inject himself. He convulsed on the ground and blood spluttered from his wounds before quickly sealing. He stood up shakily.

“Never had to use two before,” he rasped. “I suppose this is your true power, then. I want it.” I tried to get on my feet, but he snapped his hands and a blast of air smacked against my back, driving me into the ground.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Are you really that insane?”

His eyes widened. “Because I found it, Erik,” he said. “The power source. It’s here, Erik, right beneath our feet, and we are feeding off it constantly.”

“What are you talking about, you crazy old man?”

Dad let out a growl and pushed both palms downwards. I felt as if a grand piano had been placed on my back and the ground was sucking me into it.

“I found something right beneath our feet, Erik. I don’t know what they met during their last expedition, but our ancestors didn’t come home empty-handed.” His voice was quick and erratic. “And it’s our power, Erik. We have it. It’s the power passed through the generations.”

He walked around. “At first, I thought I found a way to stop my wife and me from having our powers drained. But when I realized you were twins, I knew there was no spell we could cast that would cover both of you. So, I came up with a plan. I tested the power, and it led me straight to the source. And then I realized I needed that power. I could have brought her back to life. I could have brought all of you back to life with that power.”

He bent down and grabbed my hair, twisting my head to look at him. “I will become a god, Erik, and I will shape the world as I see fit. I can have my wife back. I can have a thousand of her. You and you sister will become the perfect children, and we will live an eternal life in the world I built for you.”

He cupped my face. “Join me, son. Give me back my power. Give me the power of a god, so that I can give your mother life again. I will make all the monsters go away. Just. Give. Me. Power.”

His face had a wild, psychotic expression as he squeezed his hands around my face. I saw veins breaking in his eyes and sweat rolling from his brow. My father was sick — in all senses of the word.

“Gods don’t exist,” I replied. “You’re just a junkie who’s willing to kill your family for a fantasy. You killed your wife for nothing. You killed my mom for shit, and I. Will. Kill. You,” I spat in his face.

He let go of me and walked a few steps away. He extended his palms and the weight on my body doubled.

“My sources tell me that you have impressive healing abilities. No doubt linked to the power source. But I wonder, will you be able to heal when the gravity around you is so strong that it crushes you?”

I felt myself being squashed into the tile floor. Breathing had become impossible, and everything ached. I heard something snap and felt a shot of pain. I don’t know where it came from – as I said, every part of my body was in agony.

I heard my father chuckle. “Let’s hope Crowley likes his payment a little flat.”

Great. I was going to die, and the last thing I heard was a junkie’s lame pun.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone. I looked up.

A desk slammed into my father, carrying him into a wall. Gil stood at the entrance of the fire escape and waved her hands. A blast of air shot right into my dad’s face, smashing his skull against the wall.

“Get away from my brother,” she growled. “Daddy.”

The two spells acted against each other. Dad’s gravity spell was crushing me while my own healing magic kept healing me. If Gil hadn't shown up, I would have been caught in an infinite loop, but once the gravity spell was turned off my body was back in shape and I instantly regained full control. I scrambled to my feet, Djinn's tip pointed at Dad.
Always point the tip of the blade at the enemy
, I remembered.
Always point at the thing you want dead
.

“I thought you were supposed to go after Crowley,” I told Gil.

“The little rat escaped,” she muttered. Her face was flushed with anger. Crowley must have used an ace up his sleeve to give my sister the slip. But no matter, what mattered was she was safe.

“I told you, I don't want you to be around this.”

Her eyes locked onto Dad, who was slowly getting up.

“I can handle it,” she replied coldly. “Besides, you and Dad are equal in terms of power right now. You've got the strength and he's got the versatility. It's a stalemate.”

“And you're here to turn the tables in my favor.”

“Our favor, Erik. We're together in this,” she said as she readied herself.

Dad's figure rose. Steam emerged from him, and I saw veins popping out. One lens of his spectacles was shattered, and the rims curled unnaturally around his face. His eyes were wide, bloodshot and feral.