John stared at the ceiling of his apartment bedroom, trying to follow the blades of his fan as it spun in circles. The day after the incident at the club, the police had politely, if ever so firmly, asked him down to the station for questions. A man had nearly been pummeled to death, it only made sense if you thought about it. That didn’t make it any less frustrating having to play 21 questions with dumb and dumber in their matching cop cosplay. It was embarrassing seeing these rent a cops take their vendettas out on him.

Nothing was more frustrating than two new idiots with something to prove, and everyone wanted to prove the stray that ex detective Clayton had taken on was not worth anything. Most of the men at the station knew John at least indirectly through Clayton. Clayton had been a detective and a damn good one before he was fired under messy conditions. There had been lots of blood and gore by the time they finally managed to pull Clayton out of that home. The cult gathering there had been performing blood magic on children. Magic that had left only single survivor behind. Claytons only daughter had been among the victims who hadn’t made it. The man had taken it hard. The bad taste they had for magic in general and their soft pot in protecting the weak was probably the reason John and Clayton got along so well.

The officers and detectives had seemed professional enough whenever JOhn or Clayton had to stop by and ask for the police’s help on a tip for one investigation or another. Claytons work as a PI kept his skills sharp and gave him something to do with his time. Whenever John came alone though, everyone clammed up and treated him like he was in the way. John started to see the way they stone walled Clayton as well, giving him short brief answers and immediately finding places to be. There was no reason for the hostility, not after all this time. Still it festered there, beneath the surface of the easy words and glances.

The twisted wreckage of the mans knee from the club flashed in his minds eye and the arms, forced at different angles as the man sobbed on the floor in pain. Alright, maybe sometimes they had some valid reasons to be hostile with him. John still thought he had de escalated the situation pretty well. The man had pulled a gun trying to kill him and he had de-escalated the situation in a non lethal way. Seemed like he still did less to the man than what would have happened coming the other way. What did they expect, for John to politely ask the man to stop waving a weapon around?

At 38, John had lived through more than most would ever want to. His life had been a series of choices made for him, starting with his father's disappearance when he was 12, followed by his mother leaving him at 17 with a family friend who had a better handle on his chaotic magic. After a disastrous attempt at finishing high school, the military seemed like a way out—a way to find purpose. But the Sylverdol military was a facade, a system that chewed up the young and spit them out in the name of national security. It was a relentless grinder, pushing soldiers into futile battles over territories and resources that slipped through fingers like water. John entered without a plan, but soon realized he was disturbingly good at taking lives—and worse, he found a dark satisfaction in it. The rush of stalking his targets and the finality of their deaths became his twisted release. This grim journey brought him face-to-face with others who wielded magic, though his actions often led to there being fewer of them in the world.

He'd been stuck, he didn’t know how to get out, until the twins. If the killing itself affected him, the twins had shattered him like nothing else could. He’d been a wreck, angry and violent to friend and foe. He hadn’t recognized himself, he hadn’t felt human. What was left when the soul was already rotten.

John looked over at his watch at 6pm. He sighed, he was spirally again. Getting lost in his thoughts. It was about time for his meeting with Clayton. John grabbed his phone and keys before heading toward the elevator down from his floor. He shared the floor with a dozen other people, but still he had a spacious area to himself. John felt like he had more than he needed with a kitchen, a bedroom, a living room, and even a spare room he had turned into a workshop of sorts. A computer he had spent time building himself hummed softly behind the glow of led lights. Across the workbench stone spheres, with runes etched along their surface were lined in a neat row.

John wasn’t hurting for money, even if he went long stretches without a real job. If his absent father was going to bail but leave his ex-wife and son access to his seemingly infinite fortune, well of course John would use it. John didn’t care to know about the man or where he was now, but free money was still money. Too many people struggled just to survive in this world. John wasn’t one of them. Still, the time alone with his thoughts was not exactly the best thing for him either.

John took the elevator down, exiting on the first floor and nodded to the doorman who let him out. He headed towards his meeting with Clayton. Big Lou's was a local pub, coincidentally a few miles away from Johns apartment building. It specialized in servicing to the magical clientele and the owner was a close friend of Claytons. Hell Louie was a friend to anyone that tipped well and didn’t leave a mess, food or blood didn’t make a difference as long as he didn’t have to pick it up. As John walked down the noisy street, he was already looking forward to the calm of the pub. John arrived at the spot after a refreshing walk, making his way down the nondescript steps situated between a local market and a laundromat He pushed on one of the double doors and let it cut off the noise behind him.

Temporarily blinded from the scar lights, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit establishment. As details sharpened, he saw the rows of cushioned booths were mostly empty. A group was using the pool table and a piano sat silent in the corner. At the bar counter three men sat spread apart, chairs in between them to keep their privacy. Two of the men were looking with varying levels of concern at their giant mugs of beer, trying to determine whether they were thinking the pros and cons of finishing it. Clayton, you could tell by the cowboy hat, the permanent scowl on his face, or by the fact he was chugging a giant beer of his own while two more sat waiting and two empty cups spoke of a horror best left unwitnessed though the current view was not much better

. “You don’t want to be called an alcoholic but you’ll drink this much?"

“Labels. Just Labels. Im a drug addict too, way your aunt tells it. Got a pack of cigarettes in my coat pocket and a bag of some sweet grass back home whoever you want to take that stick out your ass.”

“Ok Boomer”

"Fuck off, you little shit. Just pull some of that trust fund money out of your ass and you can buy me a new liver. I hear the medics over in Willowmere are getting so good they can grow a limb back on“

"I'd give you a pig liver but then I’d feel bad for the pig. Its a new set up lungs your going to need first you don’t stop smoking.”John muttered with a grin.

Clayton started on his next beer while John ordered some food with a coke and whiskey from the bar server Delilah. When John had been dumped with is Aunt Liz, he had been quite a handful, he could acknowledge that looking back. Getting into fights and running off to fight in the wars without a word to the only adult who had cared about him. Lucky for him, his aunt had welcomed him back 10 years later like nothing had happened. She even went as far as to introduce him to her private investigator friend Clayton. He took on some unusual work and John was the kind of muscle that came in handy from time to time. Even if the only skill John had really developed over the years was how to track and hunt down his kill. Office work or retail would have driven him insane. His two month stint at the University had not gone well. Clayton had been a steadying force for John while he tried to find his feet. Making friends with people like Richard had also gotten him the odd security and PI work that gave him something to do. Though John was sure returning to that specific security job was out of the question. Clayton had a habit of making enemies during his work and John was always a good person to have at your back when things got bad. If only his temper wouldn't get the better of him.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

John nodded in thanks to Delilah before taking a long drink and then looking at Clayton, "So what’s going on?"

Clayton smiled wide as Delilah put a giant burger in front of him and John.

"Remember DeVito?" he asked before biting into his meal.

“Didn’t you tie him to that drug bust the cops had last month?” asked John.

Clayton nodded, “Looks like he might have something to do with the kids that have gone missing recently.”

DeVito led one of the largest organized groups in the country but the cops hadn’t been able to pin anything on him yet. Or at least they wouldn’t, with half of the judges and congressmen in DeVito’s pocket. Recently children across Qorluna had started to disappear. Every day news stories covered the heart wrenching events as parents sent messages out for their children’s safe return. So far it looked like the entire city was affected, from Up Town down to the slums. Even the reservation had announced a dozen more kids missing from their own villages. The kidnappings always happened in the middle of the nigh while the kids were supposedly safe in bed. The parents would put them to sleep only to find an empty bed in the morning. It was horrific but John didn’t see why Clayton thought DeVito would be behind it. He usually stuck to weapons and drug trafficking, though they couldn’t prove it on paper. Clayton pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket and smacked the bottom of the pack agains his leg a few times before pulling one out and holding it out to John.

"You mind? He asked John, an eyebrow raised.

John stared at the man, feeling his face stiffen as he fought to control his emotions. He had no control over his magic, Clayton knew that. Yet the man refused to believe that John couldn’t control it with just enough practice. Every time the man did this, John touched the paper with the end of his finger and with an effort of will heated the paper until it caught fire. He felt the same sense of relief he always did when he used his magic and it listened to his will. Clayton popped the cigarette into his mouth and puffed on it softly, the end glowing a soft cherry red. He took a few puffs and then focused, tendrils show out from the pupils of his eyes until they were two solid black orbs. He took another large pull from the cigarette, pulling in smoke for a few moments. He blew out a cloud of smoke in a soft whoosh, a cloud of blood red smoke. It swirled and slowly condensed into the shape of a chameleon.

Clayton but the cigarette in the nearby ash tray and nodded at the smokey creature “Show him”

The chameleon slowly crawled up Johns arm which rested on the bar and made its way up to his shoulder. John felt a tickling in his ear and is if he had just inserted an earpiece, voices could he heard. They were as clear as if they sat next to John at the bar.

"Sir the cargo will be ready to ship from the docks on the 12th. There are concerns about some loses due to the length of the voyage and storage conditions"

"Why would there be loss?"

“Procedures for sanitation and maintenance of the packages are still being prepared.”

"Don’t worry about that. They won’t be conscious and the medical professionals will be on hand to keep them healthy."

"As.. you say sir.“

“You are very good at what you do and you have been useful to the organization which is why I had you in charge of ensuring we got past customs. Im giving you a chance to show them what you can do. But you need to let me take care of the rest, stick to your part. If you mess this up it will be both our necks on the line."

“Yes sir. I should have known you would take care of it…. Kids huh? By any chance do you know what they are doing with them and why they need so many?

There was a smack

"Shut up! We don’t mention details and there are things you don’t need to know about. You don’t know who can be listening, even out here”

The chameleon spoke suddenly in a low grinding sound that tickled John's ear.

"That was all I heard"

John nodded and thanked the chameleon, disturbed by the sudden shift in pitch.No. it was more than that. Claytons shadow beasts were creepy as hell. They were sentient monsters and animals that were created by Claytons magic and a mixture of his blood with the ash. His magic came with a price that would likely kill him before he got to too old an age. He shivered once before controlling himself as the creature crawled down to the countertop and then disappeared in a puff of dark red smoke.

John looked at Clayton," that sounded like DeVito for sure. Who's the other guy?"

" Drug dealer named Kieren, he's been meeting with DeVito quite a while now. Not exactly the suits and briefcase types that DeVito normally associates with. He tends to stay as far away from the riffraff as he can. “

“What “organization are they talking about?” John sighed and drained the rest of his mug.

“Caught that did you? Looks like DeVito might be taking directions from someone else. Whatever he’s doing, he brought in a mind ripper for this one.”

" Tell me it’s not just you and me. You know I’ll help. We can’t let them keep taking these kits, but mind rippers are no joke. We still don’t even know if DeVito can use magic or not. No ones ever been able to confirm anything..”

Mind rippers were some of the worst and most unusual of magic users, They could connect to a person’s subconscious through touch and bring a person’s worst nightmare to life, giving them physical form in the real world. People had a way of letting their fears twist their thoughts into monsters worse than anything they might actually encounter in the real world.

" I'm always prepared " said Clayton with a smile." Crystal is going to lend us a hand too. But we need to keep it small, can’t make too much noise until we actually know where we are going. Crystal’s getting the Nexus on standby in case anything magical starts getting out of hand. “

John was quiet. Actually, that made him feel better. A long time friend from high school, Crystal was ex-military like John, but she had been special ops within the marines, eventually becoming a liaison between the Nexus of Balance and the Sylverdol military. She’d gotten very good at speaking politics. She was now part of a group that coordinated with the organization to handle magic related issues. If there was anyone he wanted watching his back it was her, and she always came leading the cavalry. John as a person was the hammer where she was a scalpel. He hadn't seen her in years though. Not since she'd pulled him out of the rubble. Memories flashed by again, burning flesh and screams. The flames burning everything and searing into his mind. Clayton didn't say anything as John sat there.

John coughed and tried to cover up his blank stare." That’s good. Shell be able to make this work"

Clayton nodded his head" Any issues I should know about between you two?"

John shook his head but inside he know. Oh so fucking many he thought but instead said "No were good…. So she's back in town then."

Clayton snorted," you've been ignoring your Aunt's calls I see "

The missed calls and voicemails seemed to scream out from his pocket louder than his silence ever could. His aunt Liz didn't believe in texting.

Clayton shrugged," Crystal's old man is having an art show at the Ridian tower. I'm going to need you to drop by so we can plan. Got some of Javier’s paintings I want to show you.”

"Why couldn't she come here today?"

“She's on the reservation. Said she had something to do first. It was the earliest she could make it and they aren't going to move the kids for a couple days at least. "

"And this gets me in the room with my aunt."

"And this gets you in the room with your aunt " agreed Clayton cheerfully.

" So why are you always getting involved in my family business? "

" You know kid. Liz is one of the few decent ones in this world but she scares the crap outta me just like everyone else. Ive seen her angry, been on both sides of the fight too. If “she’s trying to get ahold of you, I recommend you answer. Cause if she asked me to pass a message, I sure as hell am going to do just that. You don’t scare me much as she does boy.”

John grumbled and sat for a while, drinking and finishing his food with Clayton before paying his tab and leaving. Art show for Javier Fuentes meant it was going to be a formal, invite only type event for rich people. That meant a suit and tie. Knowing his cousins, they would be there at least. He let out a long groan and started walking back home, palling out his phone to listen to his aunts invitation. He hated family reunions.