Then I was gone. My body felt cold and suffocating,
but by now, this effect was familiar to me. It could have been an instant or a
lifetime later that my body was released, as time meant nothing to the powers
of a god. I arrived exactly where and when he wanted me to. In this case, I was
standing in front of a very irritated Shio. This was not a surprise, for Shio
was a very irritable fellow.
Other methods of transportation would have been
easier on my body, but Vretial was trying to stay under detection. The fact
was, the gods never needed the books to transport their people; the books were
just a way to monopolize and protect the magic of the worlds. With their name
in the books, people could travel across worlds without help from the gods.
“Did Vretial send you to do my job for me?”
“Of course.”
He snarled at my smirk, and I had to refrain from
saying anything to cause more conflict between us. I didn’t particularly like
Shio, since he was foolish and quick to anger, but I understood him.
The world that Shio was born into was one of poor
technology and even poorer magic. The Noquodi of this world was a suspicious
man, who falsely accused Shio’s mother, who was unusually powerful to this
world, of being an enemy of the gods. For this unreasonable accusation, he
executed her, in front of her tiny child. Shio prayed to his god to punish the
Noquodi, but was ignored, for his god hardly cared about the unjust death of
one person.
Vretial, like an adopting father, heard the young
Shio’s prayers and took Shio as he had my sister and I. However, instead of
avenging the boy’s mother himself, which he had little power to do, due to the
other Iadnah, he gave Shio a very great power and the opportunity to kill the
Noquodi himself. Upon facing the Noquodi, Shio could only too well remember his
mother’s death, giving the Noquodi the advantage. Shio was nearly dead before
Vretial returned him to the outlands. When Vretial offered to heal his body,
Shio asked only for his master to close his wounds and leave his scars so that
he could live to serve Vretial with the constant reminders of Vretial’s love
and generosity. So while Shio was in a sorry state, full of anger and hatred,
he was a servant even more faithful to Vretial than I.
“Just stay out of my way, and when I find a Noquodi,
he is my kill.”
I didn’t bother to remind him our objective was not
to kill the Noquodi, but to capture their books. It seemed pointless to try to
explain to Shio that killing all Noquodi for the crimes of one man made him no
better than the man who had done him wrong.
“Of course,” I repeated. He returned to his task and
I sat across from him around the circle. I didn’t know what kind of building we
were in, only that the floor was soft wood, the ceiling high, and the large
room was full of many small and large statues of worship relics. “What world
are we on?” I asked. I had a suspicion that Shio would avoid his own world in
fear of the Noquodi’s wrath.
“Earth. It belongs to Tiamat.”
This surprised me. “Tiamat? Doesn’t Vretial like her?
Why would he send us here?”
“Apparently, he heard that the Noquodi of Earth is
emotionally weak. No one is sure why, but what does that matter? When we
capture the book, we can continue to more powerful worlds.”
With this, we got to work. Shio had already placed
the circle. The magics Vretial taught his servants were crude, powerful, and
outdated. If magic techniques could be called outdated, that is. We used
incantations and charms instead of pure nominal energy and will. This magic is
determined by ritual and available power as opposed to our mental and spiritual
strength. This is because, as Vretial’s servants, we had little will and spirit
of our own, but we had vast amounts of power at our disposal.
* * *
It took only a few days for Shio to forge the records
necessary for me to blend into society while I found the Noquodi by the name of
Ronez. It was more difficult than I had predicted to find information on him
because he was very good at changing his records. I did find out where he lived
and worked, that he was currently single and childless, and what he looked
like.
By the time Shio had my paperwork, I was ready.
Getting a job at the car repair shop that Ronez worked at was easy. When my
“boss,” Jerry, took me back into the garage, the Noquodi was nowhere to be
seen. The garage currently had two nice cars and an old, beat up one being
neglected. The air was hot and dry with the sound of flies being drowned out by
guitar music on the radio.
Jerry approached the nice, red sports car and knocked
on the back window, then stepped aside and waited. I admit at this point I was
thoroughly confused, and wondered if all my research had not been enough.
After several moments, the back door of the sports
car opened and a man who could only be Ronez stepped out. To say I was startled
would not do his appearance justice. His hair was short and black with shocking
red spikes, which was emphasized by the silver hoops and studs in his ears. His
eyes were dark brown. He wore a black tank top with a tear on the chest showing
off a nipple ring. His light blue jeans were skin tight and covered in grease
and dirt. Silver chains wrapped around his waist through his belt loops.
Sufficed to say, I was not expecting this of a Noquodi over
two-thousand-years-old. I had read that he was currently posing as
twenty-five-years-old, but his attire made him appear younger.
Ronez turned back to the car to help a small woman
climb out. She wore a tight, dark blue dress shirt, clearly lacking a bra, and
matching miniskirt. Both were disheveled and the buttons on her shirt were
wrong. She smiled at Ronez with a flushed face.
“Your car will be ready tonight. You can pick it up
in the morning. I’ll be the only one on duty.”
“Nick will be here in the morning,” Jerry
interrupted.
Ronez continued to focus on the woman. “Nick will
have something to do elsewhere between nine-thirty and ten.”
“I’ll see you then,” the woman said. She was halfway
out of the garage when Ronez pulled something out of the car and held it up.
“You forgot this,” he said. Jerry groaned and I saw
that it was her missing bra.
The woman just smiled. “Keep it. The matching panties
are in the glove box.”
With that, she left. Jerry shook his head in
frustration. “My God, you’re a whore.”
Ronez grinned proudly with no shame at all. “No, I’m
a slut. I put out for free, and I like sex, not money.” He then turned to me
and smiled. “I’d shake your hand, but I should probably wash mine first.”
“Uh…”
“This is Krael,” Jerry said. “Krael, this is Ronez
Rayne. He’ll be training you this week, and you’ll be telling me when he blows
you off to play with his floozies.”
“Call me Ron. And don’t worry about me blowing you,
you’re not my type.”
“RON! That’s sexual harassment!”
“No, it’s not. He’s more in danger of the customers
than me or the other stiffs who work here.”
This is the guy who Earth depends on? This is the
one who is emotionally distressed? If that’s emotionally distressed, I want to
be, too.
“I’m going back inside now. Get Krael started on the
Thunderbird,” Jerry said. Without another word, he left.
“I’ll be right back.” Ronez left through another door
and I heard water running. Then it was shut off and a moment later, Ronez
returned. “Now, to business. What experience do you have working on cars?”
None whatsoever.
“My father worked on them as
a hobby.”
“So I guess this is your first job out of college?”
According to my story.
“Yes.”
“What’s your major?”
“Business.”
“And you figured out just before you were done that
it was a boring field and you didn’t want to do it?” he asked.
It was a plausible excuse, and Ronez’s easy-going
expression held no suspicion. “Pretty much. I’m still looking for a good job in
the area, though. I thought this might be worth trying out.”
“Well, you couldn’t have picked a better place. Jerry
might not let you get away with murder, but he’ll let you get away with
three-week colds, two-hour long coffee breaks, three-hour long fuck breaks, and
any religious holiday you can come up with.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I doubt you will,” he said, considering my clothes.
“Why’s that?”
“White dress shirt and black slacks? You hardly look
the partier and I would be suspicious to find you of drinking age.”
“I took college very seriously and don’t party. I
have drunk alcohol before. This is how one is supposed to dress for a casual
interview. And I am twenty-five.” I knew my story was solid.
“Liar.”
I sputtered. No one has thrown me for such a loop in
ages. “I’m not lying! I am twenty-five.”
He laughed. “I meant that you never drank before.”
“How would you know?”
“Because of the way your tone changes when you lie.
It did it when you said you’re twenty-five, also, but that could be from you
defending your age often. I’ll get better at it quickly as I get to know you so
I’ll warn you now not to lie to me. The more you lie, the more I’ll be able to
tell the difference.”
This could be a problem.
“But, don’t worry about it, I’m sure you won’t make a
habit out of lying to me and we’ll become good friends. Also, we’re going out
this Friday.”
“What?” I asked. That was the first time my voice
cracked since I was a mortal.
Ronez took one look at my face and burst out
laughing. “We’re going drinking to pick up
women
! You’re so scared I’m
gonna molest you or something.”
Ronez showed me how to fix cars. The first day, I
mostly watched him work, fetched tools, and held things. He teased me a lot,
but it didn’t bother me, and he wasn’t hurtful about it. It was actually fun to
get out of Vretial’s lair and do something I’d never done before.
Jerry closed the shop at seven and I didn’t bother
following Ronez. I fully expected him to go pick up some woman. Ronez was a
very carefree man who lived for the simple pleasures in life, that being
physical pleasures. He also loved solving problems, and seemed to thoroughly
enjoy the most damaged cars. Was that the personality of a Noquodi, or of a man
two-thousand-years-old?
* * *
The rest of the week I learned about cars. I learned
a lot about cars. A lot more than I ever wanted to know. Ronez had a way of
making me learn what he taught whether I wanted to or not, sometimes with such
vulgar references I could never forget. He also made me feel the age my body
portrayed, which, considering he was around fourteen hundred years older than
me, was somewhat understandable. I learned a considerable amount about humans,
which I once felt were underdeveloped sago. How very wrong I was.
Many would have considered Ronez out-spoken, crass,
and utterly insane. I learned by the second day to steer any customer with a
bad attitude away from Ronez at the door. In truth, he reflected or
complimented the personalities and moods around him. He would never arrive in a
bad mood. When someone needed to be cheered up, he knew exactly what to do and
say. When someone needed to argue and fight, he was a willing sparring partner.
When someone needed an ego boost, Ronez would meet them in the back seat of
their car.
Shio was nowhere to be found, though I confess that I
never looked, and certainly didn’t care to. I assumed he was either slacking
off or looking in the wrong place for the book. It was not that I forgot my
assignment, only that my interests were in learning what I could. That being
said, I could have lived without Ronez inviting himself into my new apartment
and forcing me to watch the entire six movies of Star Wars with extras and
commentary. I was much more interested in Shark Week episodes. Sharks
fascinated me, and I wished that I could import some to Vretial’s worlds.
In three weeks, I learned very little about Ronez,
nothing about his book, and became very good friends with him. He excelled at
deflecting personal questions. He seemed so open and willing to talk about
anything, especially sex, but was actually brilliant at hiding secrets. Both of
us got used to not asking each other personal questions. I actually don’t know
how our friendship worked, but he was certainly enjoyable to be around.
Unfortunately, I was here for a reason, and it was
unavoidable. Three and a half weeks after we met, on a Friday night, he invited
me over to his house instead of coercing me into a bar for a purely platonic
“guy’s night out,” as he did both previous Fridays. I accepted, knowing I had
to get closer to his book. Instead of beer, which he insisted I drank at the
bars, he brought out a bottle of Southern Comfort. It smelled nice, and having
never drunk whiskey before, I quickly learned that even immortals could get
wasted.
Soon, Ronez had out his guitar, the television was
muted, and I was trying desperately to hold onto the floor. By the time I was
thinking clearly enough to listen to Ronez play, he was playing an old Duran
nursery rhyme – one about the days before the Reformation. I had only ever
heard it played on ancient wind instruments, but even on the guitar, it sounded
beautiful. When Ronez finish, I had never seen such a look of loneliness
before.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, fully expecting him to brush
off my question.
He sighed and shook his head, setting the guitar
aside gently. “I miss my brother,” he said finally. I was struck with what I
thought was sympathy. “We had a fight a few years ago.”
“What about?” I asked.
“It was my own damn fault. I had…” He couldn’t get
the words out and had to start again with moisture in his eyes. I hadn’t known
men were allowed to cry. “There was something I couldn’t tell him, and I
couldn’t stand that he didn’t know. I needed his comfort and I wanted him to
tell me I did the right thing. I know what he would have done, though, and I
couldn’t do it.” He looked at me now, with tears on his cheeks. “Who did you
lose?”