Dread Night (The Legacy Series) (2 page)

He made that hissing sound that cats seem to master.
“You say that, and yet look at the way you choose leaders. Look at the bullshit you make up just to go to war, for the prize of a depleted energy source. And look at your TV shows:  I swear, those Kardashians have more in common with my kind than yours.” He hissed again. “Fine, I can go look out for the kid. It’s gonna cost you three boxes of cookies and a six pack.”

“You get cookies and a belly rub a day for a week,” I countered.

“Deal.”

Bartering with the cat. No wonder I’m so cranky.

The familiar remained stationery. “This would go a lot smoother if I had thumbs and some power, Erik,” he said in an irritated tone.

I raised my eyebrows. “What do we say?”

Amaymon was not having it. “Give me my powers back, or I’ll keep doing what I do best – lick myself in very intimate places and sleep.”

And that’s how the cat wins arguments.
I reached around my neck and removed a ruby pendant. That was Amaymon’s key to restoring his powers from before he became a kitty. I attached the ruby to his collar and channelled power through it. Amaymon’s feline form shimmered, and in his place stood a stocky teenager with a black tank top, black cargo pants and a black beanie.

“So
, what do you want me to do?” he asked in an urban accent. “Shall I just tail ‘im or pummel ‘im?” he asked as he flexed his clawed fingers. His feline, yellow eyes bore pure malice.

“No,” I replied sternly. “Covert observation only. I want information, not a bloodbath.”

The demon yawned. “Pussy,” he muttered. The ground beneath him crackled, and he sank into a chasm.

The hole filled with earth again, leaving only a giant
crater in my floorboards.

“Oh
, come on,” I yelled at the hole. “You asshole.”

He’s a demon
, Erik − he destroys stuff
.

It’s what they all do as a species. At least he was reliable enough on missions.

Amaymon’s powers could track down Tobias in minutes. He
is a hunter, and his senses and instincts are far superior to Earth’s top predators. I’m sure asking him to track down and spy on a boy was like asking Einstein to add two and two.

But at least that was one part down. I had another lead to investigate – the children at the hospital. I need
ed to figure out exactly what they were hit with so maybe I could reverse it. And it wasn’t like I could simply walk in and see them.

I dug out my phone and called one of the few friend
s I had in this town. It also helped that he was recently promoted a Detective at the local PD.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Roland,” I said in a chipper voice. “I got a favor to ask you.”

*****

The hospital is not a place I like.

Well, I don’t really know of anyone who actually likes hospitals. Bu
t I guess it’s even worse when you can sense magic and energy since there’s darkness and despair everywhere. Pain and death tends to do that to people. No matter how many times I visit, the initial wave of negative energy is overwhelming.

Don’t get me wrong
, the healing intention is clear. But number-wise, the bad stuff tends to win.

I felt Roland’s hand on my shoulders, pulling the leather of my trench coat gently.

“You OK?”

Detective Roland March was a recent addition to the PD’s ranks but he was a great ally. I bumped into him a couple years back when he was still a beat cop. Not a very good beat cop. He bumped against some creature, not that I remember which, and I saved his skin. He learn
ed his lesson, became a detective, and now calls me every time something goes amiss in the city.

I nodded. “Yeah
, I’m fine.”

Roland knew better than to probe further. He led the way to the room where the kids were.
When I’d asked him, he made a big deal about how that wasn’t his case. Then, I pulled out the I-saved-your-life card and here we are.

They were in the same ward, placed on three beds next to
each other like coffins. Two kids, a boy and a girl, and a larger boy a little farther: Jeremy. They looked so serene, as if they were merely asleep. The little girl even had a frock on – like in one of those old picture frames. The incessant beeping ruined the fantasy – a constant reminder that they could die, perish forever, at any second.

“What do the doctors say?” My voice was hoarse and distant.

Roland gazed over the kids and shrugged. “According to their charts, they’re perfectly fine. No viruses, no injuries, no conditions − nothing at all. It’s like someone pulled the plug on them.” His expression softened. “Poor kids.”

I focused on Jeremy
.  I didn’t think I could have handled looking at the children.

“Give me a moment,” I said.

“What are you going to do?” asked the cop with a raised eyebrow.

I grabbed the kid’s hand. “Take a very deep look.”

Magic, just like electricity, needs a conductor. Most wizards just use a catalyst, like a crystal or the like, and channel magic through it to create an effect. It’s not the only way to cast a spell but it is the simplest and safest method. Usually, it’s an inanimate object. That way you can discard it if it breaks. There is a rule, though – do not use living beings, especially sentients like humans, as channels. It messes them up, forcing your magic, your very nature, onto another’s. The effects are usually a slight permanent change in their behavior, like a tick.

There’s also the risk that your magic might awaken the other’s magic
– and that isn’t always a good idea. Just look at Tobias and the mess he’s put us in.

So
, I took Jeremy’s hand and focused on feeling the energy inside the boy. Nothing. I was expecting a trace amount given his druid practices, but I suppose being part of a group doesn’t mean you’re good at what you do. Maybe Jeremy sucked at magic. That would be one reason why I saw nothing.

Time to do the deed.

I would probably be crucified if I was ever caught. On the other hand, I never really cared about rules, and the kid’s life was at stake. Screw the rules.

My magic flared and slowly crept over the kid, like a viscous liquid. I felt no opposition or barriers – it was as if this kid was a hollowed out shell. There was no Core or magic. There was no soul.

I pulled back immediately as soon as I felt the darkness. The chair I sat on was sent tumbling as the kids rose from their beds, ever so stiffly. I gently pushed Roland out of the way, and the both of us backed up.

“Are you doing this?” he stammered.

The kids walked unnaturally, like marionettes having their strings pulled.

I focused my magical senses and saw them
− three phantoms, masses of dark energy, one coiled around each child. Tendrils of darkness wrapped around their limbs, guiding their movements.

“That’s not me,” I said.

“How are they walking?” Roland’s hand reached for his weapon, and then he realized the kids were the victims and indecision made him freeze up. The man had no idea how to react.

Not that I knew what to do.

“Hey,” I tried. “Can you hear me? Jeremy?”

The eldest boy cocked his head violently. His eyes were rolled over, exhibiting only the white, emotionless part.

“Erik? Are they . . . zombies?”

I was considering answering the question when an IV stand swung at my head. I dodged and the weight of the swing sent Jeremy tumbling. Instinctively
, my fist shot out and I caught the back of his head with a back fist.

As soon as
I touched the kid, the phantom dissipated like smoke in wind.

As I explained before, my magic i
s trapped within my body. Over the years I learned to focus that energy in different parts, especially whilst fighting. So, even a simple punch was charged with magic. That must have been what destroyed the phantom. The dark magic must have been quite weak to be countered by such a small amount of magic.

Of course, it’s weak, Erik
, said the inner voice.
It was cast by some weak-ass kid. This case is a piece of cake
.

The two kids had a fire extinguisher between them and headed towards Roland. I laid Jeremy gently down
, so he didn’t crack his skull open, and vaulted over the bed, landing behind the two children. Both my hands snapped forwards, hitting the back of their necks. I tried to be as gentle as possible but there had to be enough force to knock the dark magic out. This time I heard a faint screech as the two phantoms disappeared. I grabbed the kids’ shoulders and slowed their fall.

Roland just stood there, eyes wide open.

“What the fuck just happened?” he screeched.

I placed on
e kid, then, the other, back on their respective beds.

“Dark magic,” I replied. “Weak, but effective enough.”

“So, the cause of their coma is dark magic?” hissed the cop. “You know I can’t put that mumbo-jumbo on the report.”

I hoisted Jeremy up and
Roland helped me place the teenager back in bed.

“Just give me some time,” I said. Before he could complain I added, “You know just as well as I do that this is beyond what the police can handle. Just let me do my job.”

He nodded, but his expression made it clear he didn’t like it. Let’s just hope I could solve this case without any more collateral damage.

*****

“Dreadnite.”

Amaymon, Francis and I sat in a diner booth. The place had some people coming in and out
and just enough noise to mask our conversation without hindering it.

“
Dre-what?” The club sandwich I was wolfing down made it impossible for me to properly hear Amaymon, let alone pronounce the word he said. The demon chomped on his burger and swallowed the bite whole.

“
Dreadnite. That’s the name this Tobias kid is goin’ by,” he said. “He’s already got a gang and everythin’. Controls ‘em all with some mind juju. Weak shit, but it works.”

“Yes. That was his speciality,” added Francis. He quietly
slurped on a smoothie and eyed the demon wearily. Maybe it was the way Amaymon was mutilating his burger. Or maybe it was the golden, feline eyes or the serrated, shark-like teeth.

“What did you find
on your end?” asked the demon.

I recounted what happened at the
hospital.

“They had no soul
s,” I told Amaymon. “There was no magic, no spark, no Core.”

“Did you say they had no soul
s?” Francis turned pale. “Tobias took their souls? Can he do that?”

Amaymon belched and waved his hand around. “Hold y
our horses. The soul is what makes a person a person. It’s like your ethereal blueprints. The Core, the source o’ magic − that’s just one component of many. Ain’t nobody capable of stealin’ a whole soul – that just ain’t done.”

He turned to me. “Y
ou said they ain’t got no Cores?” I nodded. “Well, then he musta figured out how to rip out a person’s magic source. And without their batteries in, they just powered down.”

“Yeah
, but this is just some kid in some dumb druid circle,” I spat. “Sorry, no offence,” I quickly apologized to Francis. He held his hands up. That kid is really tolerant.

“We’re talking about some of the darkest magic out there. Surely a minor practitioner can’t just willy-nilly rip out souls?”

“You humans all got potential for magic and ya’ll got power,” said Amaymon. “But it’s untapped, unfocused and unprotected. A sitting duck.”

“That’s just scary,” muttered Francis.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Amaymon. “Once you start usin’ it, it gets harder to tamper with the Core. That and a strong will usually does the trick. This dude is using fear to chip away at their willpower."

“But how? How is he doing it?” I asked. “The Core ain’t even real. It’s ethereal. Unless he can
become a ghost or a phantom − ”

That was it.

All the clues, the pieces − they all just fell in place. It was simple, so obvious.

“The phantoms,” I repeated.

“What about them, Mr. Ashendale?” asked Francis.

“It’s so obvious,” I said ecstatically. It’s not
every day that I get bouts of genius – so I tend to enjoy them to the fullest.

“You said Tobias uses fear, right? That’s what the phantoms are: fear incarnate. He probes their minds, gives the fear a form and the phantoms become the victim’s puppeteers. They’re not tough but they get the job done. That’s how he accesses the Core – the phantoms do it for him.”

Amaymon licked his fingers, clicking his claws against his teeth.

“Yeah, makes sense. But y
ou’re not askin’ two very important questions.”