In the morning, Lawrence rose. The room bore no signs of entry. Lawrence put everything back where it belonged. He checked the wardings on the door and windows. He brought Cosmic Creepers down to breakfast. He occupied a seat at the end of the table a little apart from everyone. They ignored him. He did not mind. He took his plate to the soul washing dishes.
“DOCTOR.”
Lawrence jumped. Every head in the cafeteria turned. Lawrence saw Uncle Winter glaring at him from the door.
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’VE DONE?”
Lawrence looked around the room. It was silent. No one moved or spoke. Uncle Winter marched across the room. Cosmic Creepers laid his ears back. Lawrence’s gut somersaulted.
“DOCTOR.” Winter stopped in front of him. “IS THERE ANYTHING YOU WANT TO TELL ME?”
Lawrence looked away. Every eye in the room was on him. When he was in fifth grade, Principle Lesniak impressed upon him a breathing exercise. Inhale for five seconds, exhale for five seconds. Lawrence tried it now. He was halfway through when Winter opened his beak.
“I SAID—”
“I heard what you said,” Lawrence said. He did not yell. He gestured off to the side. “Do you want to have this conversation in private?”
“No.” Winter glared with both heads. If it was possible to speak through a clenched beak instead of teeth, Winter tried. “Right here is fine. You stupid fuck.”
Whatever apology Lawrence had been about to say died in his throat. His hand slipped into his pocket.
“I tell you and Lily to work out your differences, and you know what happens? I find her sitting outside the curtain wall with a black eye. I gave you a simple instruction and you couldn’t handle that.”
“She pushed me,” Lawrence matched his tone and volume. “She hit me twice. She screamed at me the entire way down. What did you expect me to do? I offered—”
“I expect you to follow orders. I expect you to do what I say when I say because I am the lord of this estate.” Winter pointed with a wing. “Now you go down there and—”
“I WASN’T DONE.”
Winter blinked. He looked affronted in the worst possible way.
“You didn’t let me finish. I offered to make peace and she threw it back in my face. Ever since I arrived—”
“I don’t care. You go down there, and you apologize. You beg for her forgiveness. And we put this whole thing behind us.”
“I wasn’t finished,” Lawrence said. He fought to keep his temper in check and failed. Yellow sparks flew as one of his hung spells shot—irresistible will. “She’s been trying to kill me ever since I got here.”
A wall of psychic force slammed into him as Winter’s own irresistible will activated. Lawrence staggered under the weight. It felt like a wave crashed into him and a weight dropped onto his shoulders. Lightning shot from the demon lord’s four eyes. Lawrence took several steps back. He fought to remain standing. He pushed with his will, but it didn’t work. The wave pressing on his chest squeezed the air out of his lungs. Lawrence felt behind him for something, anything. He whipped his arm, sending a plate flying towards Winter’s chest. The blow startled the demon lord, making the pressure vanish.
“You attacked me directly?” Winter roared. His feathers poofed out. He spread his wings. “We don’t do that here. Striking another is seen as gauche. We are faustians. We summon demons to fight for us. Do you have a demon? Have you bound anyone?”
“She tried to kill me five times,” Lawrence shouted. “Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you’d know.”
“Excuse me? I’ve been propping you up your entire life. The entire reason you’re here is because of me. I’m the reason you were allowed to come.”
“You haven’t done anything. Mom did it all while you sat under a rock and jerked off,” Lawrence shouted. “You’ve been sitting in this craphole letting old has-beens rape the slaves instead of teaching real material. You claim to be a professor but you’re not. You’re just a demon ruling over a scrap of dirt on the butt-end of a graveyard ring in the middle of nowhere. If you were a real faustian you’d be working down on the seventh for one of the big corporations. Instead, you’re here. Living in a shack without electricity or running water. You bring all these people here and you give them the same treatment. You treat them like prisoners and expect them to thank you for the privilege.”
A wall of psychic force slammed into Lawrence. Lightning shot through the air. He had been caught off guard before. Now, he was ready. He used his rage as fuel. He met Winter’s will with his own. He shoved back with all his might. Lightning and fire shot from the air, making Cosmic scream. Lawrence concentrated. He shoved. He saw Winter take a step back. Four eyes blinked in surprise and shock, then fury.
“I sent those mercenaries to attack your parents, Doctor. Without me you’d still be getting beat up by bullies in your schoolyard.” Winter spread his wings as if ready to launch himself.
“Yeah, you sent the mercs.” Lawrence’s finger tightened on his gun. “And Lily sent the assassin.”
“She was doing it to train you.” Winter didn’t skip a beat. “She’s smart.”
“She was trying to kill me because she sees me as a threat.” He loosened the gun in its holster. “Because you were dumb enough to bring her along and let her think I’m here to upstage her as your pet.”
“My pet?” Winter scoffed. “Is that what you call it?”
“Well, what d’you want me to call it? Huh? Your heir? Please, we all know you don’t have an heir. Last I checked an heir had to be a blood relative. A son or a daughter. I’m neither. Heck, I don’t even think I’m your nephew. I’m just a—”
“What?” Winter roared. “What? Finish that sentence.”
A string of green vomit flew from over his shoulder as Cosmic Creepers spat. The vomit landed on Winter’s chest. Instead of retreating, Winter levitated. Cosmic Creepers made a high-pitched sound. His lips pulled back. Lawrence thumbed the clasp on his holster. He readied his most damaging spells. Cosmic Creepers’ scream was his predator warning. A sound alerting the farmer of a nearby wolf. The colony had no predators inside the walls and to Lawrence’s knowledge, Cosmic had never been in real danger. Lawrence had never heard his llama’s predator warning. He drew his gun.
“Are you gonna shoot me?” Winter challenged.
“That depends on you,” Lawrence retorted.
Winter vibrated.
Lawrence’s mind raced. He stopped trying to win the staring contest and looked down. He needed more time. He needed to think. No—he didn’t have time. He had—he looked to the side. A nose. A llama’s nose. And a llama’s sense of smell.
“Cosmic,” Lawrence whispered. “What does he smell like?”
“Death.” The llama replied. Cosmic Creepers looked at Winter and spoke. “He stinks of death.”
“Did that llama just speak?” one of the students said.
“That llama just spoke?” one of the masters said.
“What were you about to say?” Winter demanded. “What are you?”
Lawrence’s anger drained. A horrible creeping dread filled him. He’d been about to say he was a patsy. He didn’t even know where the word came from. It almost slipped out on its own. But how could he…? He looked left and right as the pieces fell into place. Maybe he was Winter’s nephew, maybe not. Lawrence had a horrible, creeping suspicion…
Patsy. Noun. Informal.
1. Someone who is easily manipulated or victimized.
2. A person who is easily taken advantage of, especially by being cheated or blamed for something.
Well, that fit Lawrence to a tee. Lily was a pawn locked out of the loop. And the third piece? The player pretending to be a chessmaster? Lawrence gulped. He slowly raised his eyes to meet Winter’s. He told himself it wasn’t his Uncle anymore. Perhaps it never was. Perhaps Uncle Winter died a long time ago. Maybe it was when he did his Change Species ritual. Know what? Didn’t matter.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lawrence whispered. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What doesn’t matter?” Winter demanded. He waved his wing at the space between them. “You think none of this matters? You think you can just stroll in here, talk back to me, attack me in public? And it’ll all be okay?”
Lawrence needed to find a way out of this fast. Winter was dangerous. Desperate. And his manhood had just been attacked in public. True, he brought all of it on himself, the old fool. But that was the whole point. He was a fool, and old. He was an accomplished faustian.
Lawrence did not know what Classes Uncle Winter had, but it was not difficult to guess: Species and Mage. Half-Demon, ranked up to a full Demon via the Change Species ritual. Mage, variant Faustian. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter which of the two gave Winter access to his special Skill. He had the willpower to achieve it and the raw magical might to force it done.
“I. Am. Sorry.” Lawrence ate his pride. He felt an actual lump of something slide down his throat. He dropped to both knees. He put his gun away. He wanted to shoot Winter dead, but it would be suicide. He needed—it didn’t matter what he needed. He needed to survive.
“Please forgive me.” Lawrence bowed his head. He sounded like a robot. It was as if someone else spoke with his voice. “You were right. I spoke out of line. Give me a second chance.”
“And why should I do that?” Winter charged.
“To show you are different from all the other demons out there. To prove to Mom she was wrong about you.”
Winter’s feathers smoothed. He wiped off Cosmic’s vomit.
“I suppose I could be persuaded to let you off.” Winter tucked a wing against his side. “For a sixty-strength contract you will obey.”
“I will obey,” Lawrence agreed. He spoke with the contract-voice. Winter took a deep breath.
“Very well, boy. You are on short rations until further notice. You are not allowed to attend lessons or leave the property. You may not leave for any reason. If I find out you ran off to Blood Well again, the deal’s off. Until further notice, you’re on dish duty. Wash the dishes. Empty the latrines. Maybe in a year or two you can start doing lessons again.”
“Yes muh lord.” Lawrence kept his chin lowered.
“Dismissed.”
“C’mon Cosmic.” Lawrence slowly rose.
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“Oh, Doctor,” Winter called. “One more thing. Tonight, after your first shit cleaning duty, I want you to teach me how you taught an animal to talk.”
“Yes, muh lo’d,” Lawrence said, meek. He left the cafeteria. He crossed the big green lawn. They used iliaster to keep it green without water. There was a prison cell somewhere with a few damned in it. Heck, maybe the servants volunteered. Getting tortured once a week was better than being tortured all the time by demons.
Lawrence went back up to his room. He didn’t have a plan. Not really. He gathered up all his stuff. He needed a bag of holding to fit it all, but he didn’t have one. He could make a sack using the bedding set. Heck, he doubted they would miss it.
“Do you want to explain?” Cosmic whispered in his ear. He nuzzled Lawrence. Lawrence braced his arms on the bed. He hung his head.
“He’s a possessor.” Lawrence’s voice broke. “His body is dying. How, I dunno. Demons aren’t supposed to break down like mortals. They age, sure, but they don’t die of old age. Some accomplished possessors can live for eons in a stolen body. He needs a new one. A young one. A male, because he is. Someone with powerful magical talent, because he is. Someone who is a lot like him, in different ways.”
Lawrence shoulders sagged.
“How do you figure?”
“It’s simple. He already has an heir. Whether Lily is his or he adopted her in the Roman fashion, it doesn’t matter. He has a half-demon heir. She doesn’t need to be a faustian, just be a half-demon and work for him. Therefore, why would he come all the way to Earth and find me? Why would he send mercenaries to rattle colony? Mercenaries are expensive. Sending demons outside of Hell is super-expensive. He’s powerful enough he can draw young faustians from anywhere. Even a local tribe or slave group.”
“You’re saying he went after you because…?”
“Because I’m already a powerful faustian. Mom taught me everything she knows. I know every spell she does, which means every one available to the strongest [Faustians] going up to Rank 18 in the [Goetic Science] Skill. I know the strongest versions of summoning, binding, and warding. The only rituals I don’t know are the ones for immortality. It’s all head knowledge rather than Program, but it’s still functional.”
“How do you figure he wants to possess you? Perhaps he just wanted to keep you safe and not fight with Lily?”
“He doesn’t need to keep me safe.” Lawrence shook his head. “By now, Blood Well will have told him what happened. He knows he can’t control me, because I broke the rule about not leaving. He knows I’m strong enough to survive on my own. He knows my will is strong, not as strong as his, but still good. Some practice and I can stand up to him. None of it matters. You said he smelled like death. He only brought me here so he could keep an eye on me, until he was ready to kill me.”
“He couldn’t have killed you, surely?”
“He didn’t need to. His will was like a tsunami. Possession is ninety percent will checks and ten percent bond. If you have a memento, something important that belonged to someone, like a treasured family picture, or maybe a just a really good grip on their shoulder, then you can force your mind into their body. It requires iliaster to activate. You need more iliaster to keep it going. And unless you force out the original owner, they’ll keep getting progressively stronger each passing round until they force you out. But if you succeed against all odds, you can possess someone’s body. You can steal it.”
“How long is a round?”
“Six seconds. It comes from tabletop rpg’s, but the term was adopted by mages during duels. Six seconds isn’t very long, but it’s an eternity when most fights are over in three seconds or less. In addition, many spells with channelled effects or such don’t last longer than six seconds. As a result, a ‘round’ came to be a unit of measurement for time. Similar to how a ‘tick’ is half a second.”
“What would happen to you, if you were possessed?”
“My soul, or spirit, or mind, or whatever would have latched onto the nearest empty vessel and occupied it: his body. His dying shell. I’d be a two-headed crow.” Lawrence took a deep breath. “I couldn’t stop him. His will. He’s too strong. He isn’t just a demon lord, he’s a [Demon Lord] of the avian species. An [Avian Lord].
“It requires something like fifty levels in a basic [Avian] species class to get the Rank Up to [Gandaberunda], assuming there isn’t an in-between species. Then he’s a [Lord]. [Lord] plus any demon species equals [Demon Lord], I think is the equation, with the variant sub-species. Therefore, a [Gandaberunda Lord].
“He needs something like twenty units of iliaster a day just to stay alive. And he’s a powerful faustian, and mage. He isn’t running the houses because he’s concerned with immortality and increasing his own personal arcane power. He doesn’t need political power or wealth when he has magic. And for the mage-class, he has a frost specialization. IF he chose to get all the consolidations, his final class might be something like [Infernal Sorcerous Gandaberunda Lord of Ice, Darkness, and Contracts].”
“Ooo, that’s a mouthful.” Cosmic bent his head to eat some more food. “Still, why would he possess a half-demon instead of a full demon? Why you? Besides the sorcerous talent.”
“He’s the ruler of his own fief. It’s not self-sustaining but it doesn’t need to be. It’s stable. He has respect, wealth, magical power. And a hot servant who can pose as his heir. She gives him legitimacy and she comes with lots of underworld connections. And because they’re not related, she won’t mind spreading her legs once in a while. She’s attracted to power.”
Lawrence sat in his chair. He leaned back until his chair bumped the wall and made a triangle between the wall and the wardrobe. He closed his eyes. “Sad thing is: he’s how I could see myself in twenty years. If I had access to the Program.” He closed his eyes. A pair of fuzzy lips bumped his cheek. Lawrence did not react.
“How did you teach me to talk?”
“I didn’t.” Lawrence didn’t open his eyes. “You’re a wizard’s familiar. A sign of my latent magical talent. Anyone can bind a familiar, if they’re a mage. Witches do it. People on the Program can do it easy. People without? The hard way. Time and effort. On the Program I could be a level 100 [Archmage] by the time I’m twenty-five. Without it, it’ll take me a lifetime.”
Lawrence fell silent. Long minutes later, he exhaled. “Sometimes I wonder.”
“Wonder what?” Cosmic Creepers munched some of his food.
“Sometimes I wonder,” he mumbled. He was embarrassed to admit it. Adults had such a clinical way of describing it. Have you thought of hurting yourself? LOL, no. No, he hadn’t thought of that. What idiots. What a condescending way to speak. Did they have any idea what they were saying? How could they possibly understand how he felt?
Something warm and heavy pressed against him. Cosmic laid his head next to Lawrence’s.
“You don’t have to wonder,” the llama whispered. “I’m right here. I’m right here.”
The empathic bond. Of course. Cosmic knew his feelings. Lawrence rested his head on Cosmic’s. He matched the llama’s heavy sigh with one of his own.
“Are you going to whimper?” Cosmic Creepers asked. “Or are you going to fight?”
“I’ll fight later. Right now, I just wanna sleep.”
Lawrence slept. His back eventually twinged. He fed and watered Cosmic. He slept on the actual bed with his pillow. Until Cosmic gently bit his shirt and pulled him off. Lawrence sat on the floor. The llama neck-wrestled him down, but gentle. He let Lawrence retrieve his pillow and blanket. Then he pinned Lawrence to floor. For his part, Lawrence appreciated it.
It was touch. Simple, loving touch. I’m right here. I see you. I feel you. You’re real to me. You matter. Lawrence basked in it. The shadow of Uncle Winter hung in his mind, a two-headed demon watching him. Lawrence pushed it away. The image reappeared. He made some iliaster and used irresistible will. He felt the shadow vanish. Lawrence relaxed.
When the spell ended, the shadow reappeared. Lawrence sat up. He startled Cosmic, who tried to force him back down.
“Stop it, Cosmic.”
Cosmic stopped. He sensed Lawrence’s worry. Lawrence saw the darkness of the room. In his mind’s eye, he imagined himself sitting… somewhere. And somewhere behind him, above and off to the side, levitating in the corner near the ceiling, was a two-headed bird. Its arms splayed out like Spiderman keeping it in place. Its scaled legs hung. Its two heads glared.
Lawrence faced forward. He slowly turned his head. There, in the corner of his vision, was the empty room. But in his mind was a shadow. A thing that should not belong. Four, beady, glowing, lamp-like eyes. Two wicked beaks. A coat of oil-dark feathers. Talons like scythes.
Lawrence pressed his will against the shadow. A test. The demon, and it was a demon, ignored it. Lawrence dropped the spell. He blinked. The corner of the room was empty. The shadow was in his head. Watching.
The horrible sense of dread returned.
“We should have run when we had the chance. Now,” Lawrence whispered. “We’ll never leave.”
Lawrence knew what he had to do. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Winter knew it too. He would have to move fast. If Winter was half the demon Lawrence thought, he would have planned for this. Winter was prolly already moving. Well, Lawrence had fought once before, but he was unprepared. And unwilling to do what must be done.
The shadow twitched. Lawrence grabbed his chalk. The demon moved. Lawrence lost sight of it. He yelled for Cosmic to move. He scribbled a warding. For one heart-stopping moment, the hairs on the back of his neck raised. A shape dropped from the ceiling of his mind. In reality, Lawrence fell over as his muscles went slack. In his mind, Lawrence snarled.
Lawrence visualized it as standing in a dark room. Winter stood in front of him, in his idealized demon form. He looked like something out of a horror film. Behind him stood a silver screen running floor to ceiling. It showed Lawrence’s vision like a giant movie in real-time. He knew instinctively whomever touched it first would win.
Instead of winning, Winter spread his wings.
“It’s you and me, boy. You were right, you know. You think I went all the way up there just to get my nephew? Your mother is my sister through a Corporate connection, not by blood. I’ve no idea whose bastard you are.”
“And Lily?”
“My heir. Pretty as a minx coat but not too bright. She acted against my orders. She was supposed to befriend you. Earn your trust. It would make the betrayal so much sweeter. It seems her jealousy blinded her actions. It matters not. Your body is mine. We can trade if you like. Yours for mine. You would be powerful. A high-level [Lord]. Phenomenal arcane power.”
“No thanks.”
“No matter. Your story ends here.”
Lawrence drew his hand from his pocket. He thumbed the safety in the same moment.
“What—”
Seven rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. Lawrence interrupted Winter with eight bullets straight to the chest. Winter staggered back. Both his heads roared. He came at Lawrence.
“Hellfire,” Lawrence screamed. He threw up a ball of burning green-black flames. He felt the heat even in the dream.
“[Overwhelming Will],” Winter bellowed. A tidal wave of psychic energy slammed into Lawrence.
“Iliaster Burst.” Lawrence flicked his wrist. He pressed the button to eject the magazine. He slammed in another and racked the slide. He fired eight more rounds. He managed to keep his mind’s eye on target.
Winter screamed. Red fireworks appeared over his torso as most of the demon’s iliaster exploded. When the bullets hit, he staggered as if taking multiple punches.
“[Drain Life],” Winter roared.
Lawrence felt his limbs grow heavy.
A high-pitched, horrible sound filled Lawrence’s ears. Something big, warm, and woolly slammed into Winter.
“Cosmic,” Lawrence yelled. His eyes crinkled. Three-hundred pounds of angry guard animal interposed itself between them. Winter curled his feathers into a fist. He swung. Cosmic reared. Cosmic headbutted the two bird heads sideways. He slammed the other way. He kicked. He bit.
Winter flapped his wings. He soared up. He inverted almost immediately into a dive. He raked Lawrence across the face with his talons. Lawrence slashed with a sword. Not a cheap gladius made from scrap. He used a straight sword made from Damascus Steel. Winter had feathers coated in glacial armor. Lawrence had armor forged by a level 28 [Blacksmith]. It was armor worthy of a [Knight].
Lawrence had seen a [Knight] once. One of the alien kingdoms sent a diplomat to meet with Dad. The diplomat brought a contingent of [Knights]. They looked like something out of a fairy tale. Steel armor polished to a shine; shields painted with heraldry. Pomp and pageantry personified.
Lawrence had a chance to speak with a knight. He’d never forget it. Sir Charles and Dame Talia. Lawrence did not know a female knight was called ‘Dame.’ She was strong. Not beautiful. A life of taking hits and hard work had worn away her face. Her hair had a skunk stripe. But there was a beauty of character. To be a [Knight] in a fantasy world required more than having a title. It required a certain kind of character.
Lawrence, like any young man, had idolized those men and women as heroes. He summoned their image now and cloaked himself in it. Winter had his power. Lawrence had something better: a friend.
He battled the demon. Sword and gun and hoof versus beak and claw. Lawrence was desperate. He sensed Winter’s equal desperation. Lightning flashed around them. Thunder cracked.
“Fiery Projection—Mother,” Lawrence screamed. “Diana. MOM.”
A circle of flames appeared in the air. For a second it looked like a magic mirror. A white face appeared in the murky depths. The glass shattered. In its place stood a wolf-from-hell’s snarling visage.
“Winter—,” Diana roared. She took in the scene. She put two and two together and got four. “Leave my son ALONE.”
A freight train of will rammed Winter from the side. One of his heads whirled to face the new threat. Diana put both paws on the spinning circle of fire. She pushed sideways. She lunged with her teeth, but she was too far away. She howled in frustration. It was a long, ear-splitting, horrible sound. It made Lawrence’s ears hurt. Lawrence hunched his shoulders from the pain.
Winter hooked his talons into a gap along Lawrence’s shoulder armor. Winter ripped the pauldron away. While Diana howled, Winter sank his talons into Lawrence’s skin. Crying out, Lawrence’s guard weakened. Winter batted the weapon away. He wrapped his feathers around Lawrence’s neck. They may have been feathers, but they had the strength of fingers.
“You know what you are?” the bird snarled. Pale shapes took form behind him. “Abomination. That’s what you are. You never should have been born. You will die.”
Pale, incorporeal claws ripped into the bird’s shoulders. Multiple loping beasts dragged Lawrence and Winter apart. Lawrence fell to the floor. He grabbed his throat. He coughed.
Winter disappeared under a mass of pale, wolf-like beasts. Diana kept howling. More shapes appeared. Lawrence saw they were neither men nor demon. They were wolves, like her, but bigger. Their muzzles were wider. They had many human eyeballs crammed into their sockets, all jockeying for space.
The fire projection ended. Diana vanished, cutting off the sound of her howling. The wolves began fading. Winter picked himself up. Pieces of him littered the floor. One of his heads was gone. A jagged, bloody stump remained.
Cosmic Creepers lay on the floor. His wool turned red from a horrible gash. He looked at Lawrence. Lawrence saw pain, desperation.
Lawrence’s face screwed up. Hot, angry tears filled his eyes. Never in his life was he angrier than this moment. He held his imaginary sword like a lance. He screamed. Winter bellowed. His will slammed into Lawrence, but Lawrence did not care. He could have faced down a god and he would not have cared. Cosmic Creepers was injured. Probably dying. Lawrence charged.