In a dark vault, priests pray over compartments of water. The compartments are a liter in size, plastic in material, and yellow. When the priests finished with their prayers, the bottles were then taken. Replaced by yet more water. The water is then brought up winding stairs and to the surface where there are delivery vans. Young men in well-tailored suits load this water onto the van along with empty squirt guns. Other men ready themselves in the white clothing of chefs, doormen, waiters, and valets. An archbishop gives a heartfelt prayer, wishing them a successful mission. They then get in their vans and drive out of the city of Birmingham to the countryside of Herefordshire. Over the roads, grass fields, and rolling hills, they arrive at the Winthrop Estate. At the old manor, a party is being held for powerful individuals, rich businessmen, and the famous. All as a sendoff to a man leaving the world of business, a man named Dante Blasphemy.

The young men unload everything, hiding the squirt guns and water about the building. Labeling them in boxes as fragile or dangerous so no one would touch them. Blending in as the rest of the staff, the men lay in wait for the right time. Amongst the party is a man named Johnson Winthrop, the owner of the manor, and a symbol of money. A balding head, with greying hair around his ears and the back of the head. He smiled with his puffy cheeks and sunken eyes checking on all the guests one by one. While greeting everyone, he looked about for the man of the hour, Dante Blasphemy. From conversation group to conversation group he could find no sight of Dante. Amongst the clinking champagne and laughter, a man spoke up Winthrop’s name. From the crowd came a short man with glasses, his eyes moving from side to side as if to check for hidden daggers.

“A good evening I do not think we have met young man”

The man hopped at the words and stumbled over himself.

“Oh ah right, the names John Jefferies, I’m one of the members of the board of directors for Mr. Blasphemy’s company”

“Former business, he’ll be selling it soon” Winthrop shot back.

“Well that’s the thing, I’ve been hearing rumors that all the higher ups including me will get sacked if he sells”

“Ah a tragedy good day”

Winthrop was about to walk to the other room before John blurted out another word.

“Wait! I was hoping for you to convince him, in some way I beg of you”

“And what makes you think I would succeed?”

“I mean you threw a whole party for him, you have to know him in some way, come on at least try for Pete's sake”

Mr. Jefferies almost takes a knee, his hands over one of Winthrop’s. Winthrop sighed, frowned, and averted his gaze from the man.

“Fine, dear lord get yourself up man, you’ll be trampled to dust”

“Oh thank you, Mr. Winthrop, how could I pay this favor?”

“Stop asking me favors would be a start”

Leaving the energy of the party, Winthrop could hear the sound dying down. At that moment he realized where Dante was. Going to the farthest end of the manor, he came upon the study. All the walls, except the one with a fireplace, held a bookshelf. Each shelf contained thousands of books, the shelves reaching the tall ceiling. On the floor was a massive red Persian carpet. The carpet turned orange from the firelight. Firelight crackled and flickered. Sitting on a lonely well-cushioned chair was Dante Blasphemy. His leg went over the other, and a book was close to his face. Winthrop broke the silence.

“I should have guessed this from you,” Winthrop said.

Dante lowered the book, a small smile on his face.

“It’s great to see you again John. From how busy you were before and during the party, I thought I'd never get a chance to speak with you”

Dante’s voice lacked inflection but held a gentle charm to it.

“I was worried as well, especially when you disappeared after all the introductions”

“I’m deeply sorry, I was just so excited that I got cold feet”

Winthrop smiled.

“I don’t think you are, but let’s get that past us. I wanted to speak to you about some things”

Dante nodded.

“Follow me, to my office, we can speak without anyone eavesdropping”

The pair waded through the party. Winthrop spoke about the strange interaction with the Board Member.

“And then he took a knee as if he was about to ask me to be his wife”

“Looking at you, who wouldn’t?”

“I understand that, but he could have told me a bit about himself before making such a major step”

Dante chortled.

“You are correct, he was being a bit forward”

Walking up to the next floor, they made it to the room next to the guest bedroom. The office was massive. One side covered with items from hobbies long dropped. A fencing sword hung as well an elephant gun, a grenade, and boxing gloves. Trophies from competitions and valuable artifacts stood on shelves. The other side, was six feet wide, with rows of old pictures hanging beside it. The photos contained the faces of people long gone, the Winthrop family growing old and fewer. A story told from the photos, read from up to down. In one photo, in saturated colors, sat two young men with their arms wrapped around each other. They stood atop a mountain, Johnson Winthrop and Dante’s father, named Michael Talleus at the time.

Winthrop stopped, noticing Dante’s eyes stuck on the photo. Winthrop nodded to Dante to come closer to the frame. With watery eyes, Dante stared. Looking at a time he never saw and a father he never knew, only the one who went to the grave cold and distant.

“He was a good friend, at least he was to me,” Winthrop said with a dash of longing and nostalgia.

“I’m glad he was” Dante Lamented

Winthrop stayed silent and then added.

“I’m sorry, a lot is happening”

“It’s alright John… now, about that talk, you wanted to give me”

“Ah right, I was meaning to ask why?”

“Why what”

“Why all this, why quit such a prestigious position in a million-dollar company, and why sell it all?”

Dante grinned.

“Well it’s hard to answer without sounding absolutely crazy”

“How so?”

“I’m not what my father was, and I don’t see my future in business”

“A lot of people aren’t for what you’re doing, and you’ll be losing a chance at greater riches”

“I care little for the opinions of businessmen, besides, there’s more to this world than money”

“Quite a privileged view”

“You may be right, but I’m not planning to hoard the wealth I’ve gained”

“Hmph, and what shall you do after all of this passes?” Winthrop gestured around the room.

“Actually I was meaning to show you what I’ve been up to”

Going through one of his pants pockets, Dante pulled out an aged coin. The coin was silver, Russian in origin. The head of Nicholas the second on one side and a two-headed eagle on the other. The eagle's wings held many symbols of the long-gone Russian empire. Rolling the coin through his fingers, tossing it in the air, and catching it. Dante readied to flick the coin.

“Heads or tails”

Winthrop smirked, wishing to humor the young man he answered.

“Tails”

The coin flew into the air, tumbling at a different speed than the rest of the world. In a single motion, Dante caught it and slammed it onto the back of his handed. It landed heads.

“It seems I lost”

“Wanna try again”

“May as well”

“Tails?”

“Sure”

Dante flipped the coin and again it landed heads again. A smug smile formed on his face. Winthrop could tell and sighed.

“Third time’s the charm”

Heads again. Dante showed an emotion that Winthrop rarely saw in him, excitement.

Flipping the coin, again and again, each time the coin lands on heads. Dante even threw the coin directly onto the ground and it landed heads. Winthrop was impressed, but for a reason, he couldn’t understand.

“And this is what? You’re new magic show?”

“No not at all, No strings, no tricks, I’m not causing it to always hit heads”

“Then will you divulge what is?”

“It’s the coin, the coin is doing it”

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard, could you say that again?”

“Let me give more context. This coin came from an old Russian poet. Like the average Russian poet, he was a very nihilistic person. Haunted by the unsureness of everything. So he asked for something that would be universally true, this coin would always land heads”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Whom did he ask this from?”

“A demon, my mother”

“You… you can’t be serious”

“I would never joke over my mother”

“Dear god, you’re serious”

“This is why I wanted to show you this. My mother, a powerful demon has made many deals over the past millennia. She has been seeking the desperate and offering them a chance at power. I may not ever meet my mother, but things like these could help me understand just a fraction of what she was”

“I mean this in the kindest way, but there are better ways to cope young man. I think you are a good man, but what you’re telling me is just madness, and would put a man in my time in a psych ward”

“Oh there is so much more than trinkets like these”

Dante smiled like a demon grasping on a soul-bound contract. His eyebrows turned to fire and blazed like a million candles. An imp appeared on his shoulder, whispering to tell him, to tell Winthrop or he may explode.

“Dear lord, I never knew insanity was contagious”

“What do you mean?”

“Take a gander!”

Dante straightens up, looking at his reflection in the window. He saw the flames and the imp cackling.

“Oh I’m deeply sorry, this tends to happen when I get excited”

Dante took in and let out slow inhales and exhales. He kept at it until his flame died out completely. Guilt touched Dante’s, shame curling his lips to a frown. Winthrop stepped closer and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Look, life is difficult, and if you need help, I’ll be around. Still, it’ll be a bit till I start believing all the things you’re telling me”

“That’s… understandable”

“Now, let’s celebrate, we’re at a party aftera-”

Three men threw the office doors open, all in waiter clothes, armed with squirt guns. They had the eyes of warriors out to sack a city. The grinding teeth of zealots. The suicidal aura that came from the extremes of the world. The middle man screamed a declaration of death.

“Dante Blasphemy! Son of Valtrua, an enemy of the church, scum of the earth who we shall clean away, make your final prayers!”

“Not again”

Their weapons aimed, the assassins fired or rather squirted at Dante. The water splashed onto his skin, and it began to sizzle like intense burning. Gnashing his teeth, Dante held in a yelp of pain. He crouched, putting his arms in a shield. It did nothing to prevent the water from going through his suit and burning him. Receding, Dante fell onto Winthrop’s office table. Winthrop's mouth stood agape, and rage filled his soul. Taking back initiative he charged the three men. They fired their weapons at Winthrop, the water had no effect. His arms were up in an old-school boxing stance, and he threw a left and right jab. The jabs hit their mark on the unsuspecting assassin who tumbled back from the quick attacks. His head smacked the wall, his body sliding to the ground. The two other assassins got their hands up to fight, their amateur skill clear to the boxing champion. The taller assassin came next, attempting to out-range Winthrop. Slow and weak jabs came towards Winthrop's head, an assault countered by blocks. To Winthrop, the hits felt like pillows tapping his forearms. Winthrop watched the overcautious fighter refuse to make any counter. Winthrop pushed through, taking advantage of the opening. A left hook and a right uppercut brought him down like a bag of sand.

The last fighter kept a distance like the other man before, but so far that not a single punch hit its mark. He stood well away, shadowboxing, a confident grin, making loud grunts with each hit. Winthrop was not cowed by the devastating showing of power and stood firm. The assassin did not make a significant move, so distracted that he did not notice the chair swung at his back. The assassin's legs collapsed from under him, out cold on the wood floor. Putting his arms at rest, Winthrop scanned the room for other threats and found none at the moment. Dante, on one knee, ripped off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Dante was covered in red burns reminiscent of second-degree burns.

“What the hell just happened?” Winthrop said through deep breathing.

“Church assassins”

“I hate how matter of fact this is to you”

“You have no idea”

Winthrop picked up Dante, taking an arm over his shoulder.

“What the hell did they use on you?”

“Holy water, a little of it burns, and a lot could disintegrate my flesh”

“Jesus, you could have chosen something less powerful than the bloody church to make an enemy out of”

“Trust me I wish I had that choice”

“Now what devil boy?”

“I need waterproof clothing and an escape route”

“We can plan in my room, hopefully, my clothes fit a tall bastard like you”

Moving down the hall, Winthrop carrying the still recovering Dante. He moved in a stumbling half-step.

“Work with me young man, one two one two”

The sound of multiple men shoving through the party came from the bottom of the stairs. Quick steps made the old wood steps creek. Winthrop pushed Dante forward past the steps, standing guard at the top. 5 assassins dressed as more wait staff marched up, stopping at the imposing sight of Winthrop. One shot their water gun at him, Winthrop's face scrunching at the water hitting his face.

“Stop taking a piss and face me, you cowards!” Winthrop growled.

One brave soul made the trek only to take a black leather shoe to the face and kicked down onto his compatriots. Like dominos, the suited killers knocked each other back down. Seeing his chance, the old man ran to his room where Dante entered. Slamming the door, locking it, and wedging a chair under the handle. Winthrop turned to see chaos in his bedroom. Clothes were thrown about, Dante discarding his wet clothes to trade for clothes not his size.

“You could be a little less messy”

“I promise you, I’ll clean up after people aren’t trying to kill me”

“Not on my watch, you’re getting the hell out and laying low, promise me that”

Dante put on a windbreaker and a leather jacket, zipping them tight. Next, he put on multiple layers of pants and socks, fitting over a rain poncho over all of it. The final touch was a motorcycle helmet that Dante had to squeeze into.

“I never took you for a biker”

“Oh my boy, that's merely the surface of what I’ve done”

A body slammed into the door, then another and another. The door buckled and broke and young assassins poured into the room. They froze at the armored Dante and the hardened Winthrop. They took a step back, and Dante took a step toward them. In the time of a single breath, Dante launched a spear kick into the chest of the Assassin at the front. Gasping for air and searching for balance, the Assassin fell back. Like a wave, the other assassins receded out of the room to regroup. Grabbing two umbrella’s from the coat hangar, Winthrop handed one of the umbrellas to Dante.

Advancing out, the fighting duo pushed the attackers away. Winthrop used his Umbrella like a shield to guard Dante. Like a club, Dante smacked people on the head with the end of his umbrella. Breaking through the mob, the duo slid down the stairs and off to find an escape. The attackers pursued but found it difficult to push the confused guest out of the way.

“What’s the plan now?” Winthrop strained through his tired voice.

“There’s somewhere they won’t chase us, but we need to be outside for me to do it”

“Easy enough”

“Stop!”

Dante put an arm up to halt Winthrop.

“Now what?”

“There”

Dante pointed at a waitress talking amongst others.

“She’s a member of the assassins”

“How do you-”

“I’ll talk more when out of here”

Ignoring the weird looks and questions, the two stayed low while making it to the door outside. Slamming the door open, they rushed outside. Yells came from the manor, an invisible countdown for what Dante was planning. The two stop at the precipice of the estate, where woods and grazing land take over.

“Not meaning to repeat myself, but what now?” Winthrop stresses the words “what” and “now”.

With hands pointing forward and fingers spread open. Dante concentrated energy into the tips of his nails and the palm of his hands. A six-foot by two-foot area in reality folded in on itself. Incomprehensible impossibility unfolded before them. The laws of physics became mere suggestions, bowing down to Dante. The air popped with energy and matter that did not exist before. A requiem was made to the long ago lost world of old primordial chaos. All of these things happened, but all Winthrop and Dante saw was a yellow door form in front of them.

“What the hell is that?”

“A door we’re going through”

“Good answer”

“Stop right there!” A voice shouted.

A golf cart with a pressure washer strapped to the back came to a grinding stop, churning the dirt and grass under it. Standing on top of the passenger seat, a woman put a foot on the dashboard and looked down at the two escapees.

“Take another step and you’ll get a bath with god” The woman declared with teeth barred.

Dante turned around with his hands in the air, eyes closed in what looked to be defeat.

“Ah Joan, it’s great to see someone who wants to talk for a change” Dante gave a sly smile.

“Don’t be too cordial demon spawn, I was hoping for you to beg one last time”

“Whatever gets you off I guess. I’d personally suggest healthier outlets”

“Hardy har, I’d suggest you take off that helmet. So your head is first to go and you don’t feel this juiced-up pressure washer tear into you”

“How kind of you, I’ll make sure to give god a good word for you”

Dante took off the motorcycle helmet, his head able to breathe again. Bringing it down and dropping it, Dante used the moment to pick a particular item from his pocket. His arms were back up, something in his hand, which Joan immediately noticed.

“What is that, show me what you have right now!” Joan demanded

“Stop right there, take another step and the earth under you might just erupt!” Dante warned.

A big grin formed on Dante’s face, a glint in his eye, and a look of confusion on Winthrop's.

“Have you gone mad, that coin will do nothing for us” Winthrop whispered.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you! This coin guaranteed something else, a tidal wave of magma by twelve miles if it touches earth”

Dante spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’re lying! We’ve tracked you’re every move and nothing hinted at such power” Joan retorted.

“I know you’re smart Joan, and very cautious, you want to take a bet now with all your soldiers in the blast zone?”

Winthrop’s mouth was wide open, eyes white with shock. Dante spoke with sincerity, a tone of undeniable truth, the tone of fiery priests and zealots. Joan attempted a poker face, that broke down the instant she had time to think of the risk.

“You bastard! I never took you for suicidal, but I guess you learn something everyday… go, just go you smug bastard”

Joan kept back a wave of frustration in her eyes. All her tricks moot, and risk too high, she clenches her fists and accepts defeat. Walking backward, Dante opened the door and gestured for Winthrop to enter, and he took the offer. Winthrop looked at Dante to see his eyes again in a blaze of fire. An imp on his shoulder whispered to let everyone in on the joke.

“Hey Joan”

“What!”

“Catch”

Tossing the coin in the air, everyone dived for cover, Dante stayed standing. Dante caught the coin, landing heads again, and he cackled, the fire bouncing with his laugh.

“Oh and Joan”

Joan looked up, fire in her eyes.

“No!” Joan screamed.

“I just wanna tell you”

“NO!” Joan screamed louder.

“I lied”

Dante jumped through the door, slamming it on the way, Joan’s screams being silenced. Ambiance took over, a soft thrum coming from the distant halls. Water dripped down a white painted-over metal pipe. The fluorescent lights hummed and flickered. It made Winthrop nauseous while he caught his breath. His body started to remind him how old he was, his bones ached and groaned.

“Why’d you think it was a good idea to let her in on what was going on”

“Couldn’t help it, her reactions were always funny”

“I’m sensing some history” Winthrop Speculated.

“She was the first church assassin ever after me, and she hasn’t stopped since”

“Charming, where are we?”

Winthrop took a good look around, grimacing at the oppressive conditions.

“Welcome to the Metro Layline. It's the main way supernatural creatures travel across the world”

“And this works how?”

“The earth has sort of veins of magic that you can travel, even changes depending on the world’s mood”

“Mood?”

“It changes every few hundred years, I missed the last change, so I only know this drab place”

“Anything out to kill us here?”

“None that I can think of. The place works on a sort of honor system. Don’t mess with them and they don’t mess with you. Some creatures live off stealing from travelers, but we’re in a group so it’s too risky for them. Unless it's one of the Metro elf tribes that is”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll say more at the Metro Diner”

Winthrop grumbled under his breath, following Dante through the tight hallways. Things spoke around a campfire, keeping their distance from the people traveling by. Some beasts with many arms tried to sell strange wares, others had many eyes, while some had none at all. The few panhandlers grew into a small bazaar. The scents and thoughts of a thousand worlds gone or still thriving. Traveling through the louder areas, the two came upon what seemed to be an old-fashioned diner. The neon lights and curving architecture shine through the rags and cardboard. Walking inside, the two could hear a jukebox play old classics from the fifties. Waiters with red and white striped shirts walked about taking and giving orders. The restaurant’s patrons took many forms and sizes. Gnomes sat in booster seats, wild men scanned their menus. A sorcerer did minor acts of levitation. A dog spoke in perfect English while receiving coffee. A waiter greeted the two, taking them to a secluded and clean booth. Winthrop ordered a steaming order of coffee while Dante got orange juice.

“You have some explaining to do” Winthrop commanded.

“Understandable, where should I start?”

“Start with this diner”

“Oh this one is simple, sometimes places are created in the Metro Leyline. Have you ever felt nostalgia for something?”

Winthrop nodded.

“Everyone does” Winthrop shrugged.

“Exactly, collective nostalgia can make sort of time capsules in the metro leyline. This could be one of them” Dante suggested.

“Seems more a guess than a certainty”

“I’m not an academic in this, and this place is out of the way compared to the other time capsule worlds”

“There’s more?” Winthrop stammered.

“In a way that you can’t even imagine”

Winthrop reclined in his seat, sitting back up after he took it all in.

“And all the magic and stuff? How the hell does it stay hidden?” Winthrop wondered.

“Well, it doesn’t a lot of the time. People like you slip through the cracks. Other than that supernatural creatures are good at keeping secrets.”

“Why keep it away from the public eye?” Winthrop questioned.

“Beauracracy”

“What?”

“Beauracracy, some of these creatures enjoy the fact no one knows who they are. It gives them the freedom to do whatever they wish and not deal with the consequences of their actions. Gnomes hate the idea of having to have their buildings fit zoning laws. Wizards hate following laws that could prevent them from doing more seedy magics. Most importantly vampires hate paying taxes”

“It’s just that?”

“Yes”

“No secret order with interest in keeping this a secret? No fear of man’s fury? No eldritch beings popping up when you know faeries exist?”

“The reason monsters stay secret is quite mundane. There are however secret orders and supernatural governments that protect each other's interests. They’re more like gangs than the Illuminati.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing too important, I’ll tell more as things pop up, well if you want to know more”

“I’ll pass for now. I have one more question that sort of pertains to our situation”

“Go ahead, John”

“Are... you sure you want to know more?” hesitation in Winthrop's voice.

“What do you mean?”

“These things, all sound terrible for one’s health, and you seemed to be marred in it. I’d hate to see you get found dead after getting in over your head.”

Dante stopped what he was doing, looking up to see Winthrop.

“You remember that name they said? The assassins at the manor?”

“Some of it, I wasn’t registering everything that was happening”

“They said my mother’s name, Valtrua, a name I never knew until a year ago. That’s still the only thing I know of her. That she is a powerful demon who dealt in souls… and I can’t help but know more. These demonic items could be the key to my greatest question, Who was my mother?” Dante confided.

Winthrop took a drink of his still-warm coffee, breathing in and out.

“I want to trust you… and I will, but I think you should be careful, you may get more than you asked for. I don’t want to see my friend’s son get killed doing something foolish.”

“I’ll make sure not to follow your example then” Dante joked.

“You sly bastard, let’s order something, I’m starving”

After a delicious meal, the two traveled down the Metro Leyline. Going past different doors until stopping at a Yellow door.

“We found it” Dante announced.

“The yellow door we went through?”

“Well yes, but not exactly, this is my door, but it leads to somewhere else. This is where I want to go, so the door is here” Dante answered.

Winthrop calculated the logic in his mind and found a paradox.

“Fine, let’s just get out of here”

Dante opened the door, walking out to show that they were now at the entrance of Parliament.

“You think you can find a Cab?” Dante laughed.

“Hotel first, cab later”

“Never took you for the tired type”

“I’m full of surprises”