Oz yawned as he rolled out of the sheets in the morning. His five-year old body was stiff and tired. His cold feet impacted the floor and chilly morning air brought goosebumps to his bare skin. He inhaled sharply with displeasure but pressed on. He dropped down onto the wooden floor and began stretching. His eyes aimlessly wandered around the bare room, resting on his red and white checkered quilt. The quilt seemed to beckon to him with its curvaceous and seductive form… calling his name over and over again. He shivered with pleasure as he recalled the warm embrace of a cotton 800 thread count blanket. He reluctantly peeled his eyes from the luscious frame and well filled out bulges on his bed called pillows, their size wasn’t the greatest… but the texture and firmness was just right. But every good thing must be left behind on the path of cultivation! SAY NO TO TEMPTATIONS!!! Oz blinked away the licentious form of his immoral pallet and continued stretching.

After stretching Oz went to the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a black glass bottle in the shape of an eight. He uncorked it. A most unpleasant odor found its way into his nose. His nose wrinkled instinctively in disgust, he could practically hear Ebenezer’s mad cackling as he brewed this foul concoction. He tilted the bottle and foul-smelling molasses like liquid oozed into his hand. His little face scrunched in pain. A drop of the liquid spilled onto the floor and let off smoke as it impacted the wood, sizzling and fizzing. Oz looked down impassively, then muttered under his breath, “Papa’s gunna be pissed.” The new burn mark joined a growing family of burn marks on his floor, this one was dog-sized. When Ed had seen the grandfather sized mark Oz had a very difficult time sitting down for a couple days.

He then began to rub down every inch of his body with the foul, black and sticky liquid. Wherever the liquid touched his body felt like it was on fire, a fire that spread. Soon his whole body was coated in the thick ebony fluid. He wavered on his feet, the pain making him feel dizzy. He sat down on the floor and screeched in surprise as the floor reacted with the fluid. Smoke filled the room and Oz shouted in angst, “Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Oh —”

“What the hell you doing son?!” The door crashed open as Ed bounded into the room, his face contorted with rage. “The hell you doing to the floor?! Let me get my damn switch, Imma make your candy bottom the same colour as that floor!”

“Don’t speak like that to your son! And no spanking the boy with anger!” Edna’s voice floated up from the kitchen.

Ed blushed sheepishly and called back, “I know baby, I know!” Ed rubbed his bald head furiously, then took a series of deep breaths and calmed down. “Anger is the enemy, anger is the enemy…” Ed mumbled the chant to himself over and over again, then, having calmed down. Flashed Oz a toothy grin, “You gunna pay for this one later. For now, let’s finish this up. Dammit son… why don’t you put down the towels like I tell you to! Each damn morning it’s the same thing!”

Oz blushed awkwardly, “Sorry Papa.”

Ed’s jaw almost dropped, he whistled, “Well since you in a speaking mood, I’m in a forgiving mood. Alright, let’s get this done.”

Ed floated Oz off the floor and floated more liquid from the bottle to replace what was lost in the carnage. Soon Oz was suspended in the air and coated in the black fluid from head to toe.

“Damn apothecary said that this stuff was safe… What you go to say for yourself boy?!”

Oz’s brown eyes stared back at Ed, the expression of pain on his face only barely suppressed.

“Uh huh… same as usual… nothing. Looks like yesterday was a dream and today was a coincidence.” Ed pulled out a rag and dusted his hairless scalp. “Dammit kid… that floor is gunna collapse at this rate and you gunna fall right through there inta the living room.”

Oz smiled, barely. His eyes still tight with pain.

“You know, if you ain’t gunna put the towels down, you supposed to do that outside… I know you don’t like getting naked in public… but you still five… hell when we go to the beach you still swim butt naked.”

Oz’s face crumpled with displeasure. Ed tried to choke back a laugh, but brayed one out anyways.

“Oh, you’re one of those families.”

Ed shouted and dropped Oz to the floor with a crash, then yelled curses too profane to be written as he levitated the boy and lathered on the poultice for the second time. Ed turned and stared with anger at the figure of Joseph McCarthy.

McCarthy’s back was straight. He smelled lightly of tobacco, but today his stubble was gone, and his characteristically clean-shaven face was back. A strong jaw, blue eyes and slicked back black hair accented his formal attire. His jacket was gone today. It was just a solid grey vest, black tie and a white shirt with a few thick grey stripes. Grey pants and brown leather shoes completed the outfit. McCarthy clicked his heels a couple of times on the wooden floor and met Ed’s gaze for a second before staring at the suspended form of Oz.

Ed stared at his boss. He looked like the head of a newspaper company… if he was the company would be called the Grim Tidings because that’s all McCarthy ever brought with him. Ed sighed in his mind. I don’t need this… first I got to fix my friggin’ floors… then I gotta go to work but DAMMIT!!! Work came home! Wait… how the hell did he get in here?

“Those families at the beach…” McCarthy paused and licked his lips and then his fingers twitched. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, “Those families…” He repeated emphatically, tapping the pack open. “… At the beach… with their kids running around naked.” He pulled out a cigarette from the now open pack and then put it in his lips and chewed on it thoughtfully. “I hate them.” McCarthy spat out the chewed-on cigarette. Ed watched the cigarette bounce to the floor and the tobacco spill out because of McCarthy’s chewing. Both men stared at the pile of tobacco on the floor. McCarthy gave Ed a meaningful glance and pulled another cigarette out and put it in his lips. He pulled out a match. Struck it on his shoe. Then held it up to light his smoke.

But Ed doused the flame with his mind. McCarthy glared at him. Ed whispered, “There’s kids in here... it’s my house.”

“You don’t order me around… everything is my house. Think of me like a big brother… who’s also your landlord… who’s also your boss… and your penitentiary.” McCarthy grinned, tossed the old match away and struck another one. “Just think of me as your big brother… right comrade?” McCarthy glanced up — as he was lighting the cigarette — at Oz. The boy frowned in disapproval at him. His black hair, greasy with poultice and overall neutral countenance reminiscent of a certain someone. McCarthy dropped the match, his cigarette unlit, in shock.

McCarthy was absolutely stunned. A name leaked out from his lips, “Da Shan?”

Ed’s eyes went wide. The boy looked confused. McCarthy stormed up to Oz insanity alight in his gaze, Ed shouted and tried to grab his shoulder. But a fierce gale pushed Ed’s hand away and then pummelled him out of the room — hissing and screaming as it howled at him.

Edna’s voice called out again, “Baby, what’s going on?”

Ed struggled against the cascade of wind that pinned him to the wall. He tried to shout, but the wind funneled into his open mouth preventing him from crying out. Through blurry eyes he saw McCarthy wipe away the fluid around Oz’s neck with a light breeze. McCarthy traced his finger around the base of Oz’s neck. He mumbled to himself. “There’s no scar here…”

The spark of insanity in his gaze subsided. Ed stumbled to the ground as the air stifling him vanished. He gasped for breath, gulping in as much air as he could.

“Baby, is everything okay?” The sound of Edna’s footsteps reaching the base of the stairs startled Ed.

“DON’T COME UP HERE!”

He heard her shuffle her feet in retreat. Ed’s mind fumbled for a follow up.

“That… that damn Ebenezer’s poultice messed up the floor… let me… let me patch it up a bit first.”

Ed could envision Edna wagging her finger up at him as she spoke, “You need to disassociate yourself with all these shady characters baby.”

Ed heaved a sigh of relief and chuckled to himself, “Baby, maybe I’m a few more shades greyer than I thought.”

“Well you a black man ain’t you?”

Ed laughed, “That’s not what I had in mind.”

Edna huffed and shouted to him as she walked away, “That damn McCarthy’s the worst of them all. Frig… he’s a damn elf-skin!”

Ed felt beads of sweat pour down his face and he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of McCarthy’s feet creaking on the floorboards right next to him. The man had simply teleported from Oz’s side to his, but there was no scent of mana nor a flash of light.

“McCarthy! How are you doing that?!” He whispered.

“I hear everything Edmund. I won’t forget what your wife said.” McCarthy’s voice was cold and hard like drawn steel and he stared intently down the stairs.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Ed tried to muster up the courage to stare down McCarthy, but the Chancellor was incredibly unhinged today. He knew if he antagonized McCarthy the man could snap and just kill his wife on a whim. He needed to play some softball.

“Awww… hell man… you should forget.” Ed tried to smile as he pulled out a match and lit it with his mind. He extended it in front of McCarthy’s cigarette. McCarthy eyed him for a moment. The sweat dripped down Ed’s neck. McCarthy gave a tight smile. He sucked a breath of air through his cigarette, the tube of tobacco glowed orange as McCarthy inhaled, filling his lungs with the noxious smoke.

McCarthy waved casually, “It’s forgotten… for now. Come to my office later… we have things to talk about. And —” McCarthy and Ed turned to Oz who was now being suspended by a gentle updraft, the swath of liquid McCarthy had peeled off his neck replaced with fresh fluid. “— Bring the boy with you sometime… not today… but later. I’m going to have Elderweiss look at him, just to be sure.”

“Just to be sure of what…” Ed swallowed nervously.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“He’s my son.”

McCarthy barked a laugh, “He only looks like your son now, but when that stuff comes off he’ll look like my son. Maybe I’ll adopt him from you, how’s a thousand spirit stones sound? Hm? That’s your price isn’t it?”

“The hell is your problem?”

“YOU!” The shout was unexpected and violent.

Ed shuddered as he was shoved back, blood dripped from his eyes and ears. He coughed and blood sputtered out, almost hitting McCarthy’s suit, but was intercepted by a breeze that blew the globules back into Ed’s face. Ed was shocked, the control on this shout was new… next level. Normally Ed would be flung back or knocked against a wall. The blast of wind this time was so concentrated and direct, the most it did was push him back a step. But the pain… the pain was far more immense. Ed stared defiantly at McCarthy as blood dripped through clenched teeth. Ed’s gaze shot to the stairs to make sure his wife wasn’t coming.

McCarthy smiled, “Don’t worry, only you and I heard that shout. I’m a fair man Ed. I only punish the guilty party.” McCarthy blew a puff of smoke into Ed’s face. “And you look guilty to me.” McCarthy leaned in and adjusted Ed’s black kimono. He dusted off the shoulders and blew another puff of smoke into Ed’s face. “I can’t see any evidence of conspiracy… just based on looking at the boy. But Elderweiss will do a full diagnosis and then we’ll see what you’re hiding from me.”

Ed gulped, if McCarthy thought he was a traitor… it would be a fate worse than death. He regretted that powerplay he made in McCarthy’s office to see Da Shan’s grave. The swagger of me being Commander Grade has gone to my head… damn Ebenezer warned me. Ed put on an ingratiating smile. McCarthy’s eyes rose in suspicion at the change of expression.

“Chancellor —”

“It’s Chancellor —" McCarthy stopped abruptly and his eyes narrowed as he realized he didn’t have to correct Ed.

Ed continued as if nothing strange had happened, “I have served you well for over 50 years. I went from being the most useless of Auditors to the most effective. I am your best assassin and you’ve even put me in charge of the Investigators. I don’t think I could have hidden evil motives from you for this long… unless you really think I’m that much smarter than you?”

McCarthy snorted, an untoward and unexpected sound from him, “I am the smartest. But everyone makes mistakes. Da Shan taught me that lesson with his own body. Twice. I don’t need to learn it again. If you come up clean… you come up clean. If you don’t… just remember what I said to your wife five years ago.”

Ed closed his eyes and shuddered involuntarily. The man’s psychotic! He opened his eyes and almost collapsed to the floor when he realized McCarthy had disappeared. Ed held his breath then gasped in fear, “Don’t tell me… he’s advanced in cultivation? Prick… EDNA! I’m going out baby, I got to do some work!”

“But it’s a Sunday baby!” Edna’s irritation was evident in her tone.

“It’s a work day, I’m out! Oz, go shower! Your morning wash is over.” Ed reached with his mind and plucked the boy, who’s face was both confused and neutral — (an odd combination to say the least) and floated him to the bathroom and turned on the water. At least that damn fool left his wind to keep Oz from ruining my floors. Ed raced down the stairs, kissed his wife and was out the door before she could respond.

Edna was floored. But after a few minutes of huffing and puffing she went back to preparing breakfast for her son. Ed’s domain was the little shop and their training yard. But this house was her domain. She ran this place, in here, Ed had to take orders from her. The pinnacle of her authority was the kitchen, Ed was a slave to her food. It was one of the reasons that she — a mortal — had managed to marry a cultivator. Whenever Ed didn’t eat food, she felt like he was slipping away, like she was no longer the center of his life. Ever since what had happened with Da Shan five years ago, things had been different. He didn’t eat for a solid week, before that she had never seen him skip a meal. Ever since then he would find a way to miss meals, breakfast, lunch, dinner — even dessert on a couple occasions. It worried her. She felt like he was catching McCarthy’s insanity. She shook her head. Edna had other people to feed today, she couldn’t spend all morning worrying about her husband.

The twins were still sleeping and probably would want oatmeal for breakfast. She hated oatmeal. Oz didn’t care for it, but he liked making it for the twins. She smiled at how adorable her boy was. She heard the flow of water in the pipes, Oz had just finished his bath. She started to hum as she pulled out a fresh loaf of bread from the oven. The smell of crisp and fresh bread filled the house. The gentle sound of a knife on a cutting board echoed in the quiet kitchen as she neatly cut the loaf into thick slices.

As Edna sliced downstairs Oz rubbed his head vigorously with a towel upstairs. His skin was raw, red and itchy. Ebenezer’s poultice was designed to penetrate his muscles from the outside. Toughening his skin and thickening his blood… or something or other. Oz didn’t really understand why he needed to endure the painful procedure everyday, it felt like a thousand needles puncturing his skin. Soon the redness began to fade and his skin and hair looked more vigorous than ever. But in his eyes, it wasn’t worth it.

I don’t want to be a cultivator.

He mulled the thought over and over again as he put on a loose white shirt, grey pants and a black rope belt. His brown eyes shone from the medication, his skin glowed and his hair gleamed in the light. In a word, he was “fresh”. An overall pleasant sensation, but not so pleasant that it was worth all the suffering he went through. The thought came to him again, stronger this time.

I don’t want to be a cultivator.

He resolved himself to be a little more forceful when he talked with Ed next time. Oz ran the towel through is hair a second time, then started to walk down the stairs. His bare feet gently falling on the wooden floor. He was careful to avoid that one creaky step in the middle of the staircase. And that odd dent in that other step. Ah, and how could he ever forget the part of the rail that wasn’t attached anymore? After carefully avoiding all obstacles he hopped off the last step and made his way to the kitchen, his stomach grumbling.

He was sore. He was tired. He was hungry. He had met McCarthy. It reminded him of the first time he laid eyes on Ed, a torrent of vengeful emotion had seized him. But when he looked at McCarthy, he only felt a pungent sense of sadness, but it was an emotion that was altogether alien to him. He didn’t understand why, but there was a heavy bitterness veiled behind the sorrow, a bitterness Oz could only vaguely sense the shape of. Most of it was sealed away in the box in his mind. The morning was too eventful for him. He began to drag his heels, burdened with adult-sized problems in his toddler-sized mind.

Then he felt it.

His senses were assaulted.

They were overwhelmed, and his defences were breached!

A battering ram of smells burst open the gate of his mind and troops of sounds poured in like a flood.

He smelled freshly toasting bread. Oh, and did he ever smell it. The pop of the toaster sent his stomach rumbling, it tantalized his mind with its sound. With a lopsided grin Oz bounded into the kitchen, seeing Edna slathering butter into toast he waited a moment — just a few feet behind her. The sound of a butter knife on toast was the greatest morning symphony ever written. Oz’s eyes closed in full appreciation of this stately composition. A butter on toast concerto, in Edna Major! His heart fluttered in appreciation for this immensely gifted woman.

Ah! The jam solo! He grinned with his eyes closed at the pop of a jar opening. His body shivered involuntarily at the sound of a utensil plunging into the jam. Then his body froze. Huh?! Spoon! What blasphemy!!! The sound is ruined! His breath shortened, and his cheeks flushed with indignation as the sound of a spoon on toast filled the kitchen. The grate of metal on grain was uneven… the roundness of the spoon clipped the sound of the treble! It was ruined!!! The great morning orchestra of happiness was plunged into an abyss of grossness. Disgusting… an abomination! Oz’s bottom lip quivered with umbrage of the highest order as he haughtily approached Edna. He crossed his arms and stood beside her, waiting patiently to be noticed. He didn’t have to wait too long.

“Aw there you are darling, good morning!” Edna ruffled Oz’s slightly damp hair. She glanced down at him upon noticing his lack of reaction. His face was stoic. Almost majestic — if a five-year-old could look majestic. She ruffled his hair again. No response. She tried one more time. Again, no response. Edna huffed aloud, “First your Papa has gone all crazy and now it’s rubbed off on you.” She looked down at him and glared, “If I don’t get a smile out of you, I ain’t fit to be a mother!”

A tickle attack, some scratches and a near incident of pant’s wetting later and Oz had finally forgotten his morning woes. Edna was quietly sitting with him at the breakfast table, drinking her coffee and watching him eat his toast. She watched his peculiar mannerisms with amusement. He ate like a fussy senior, not like the sloppy toddler he was.

Edna sipped her coffee and cocked her head and asked, “Oz, how was your medicine bath this morning?”

Oz set down his toast on his plate and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. Edna quirked a grin but didn’t say anything. Oz looked at her with his soft brown eyes and said, “Mama… I don’t want to be a culti —… A cultiba —…” Oz frowned and stared at Edna.

“It’s okay darling, try again.”

He gathered his courage and inhaled deeply, careful to pronounce each letter, he tried again, “I don’t want to be a cultivator anymore!”

Edna raised her eyebrows, but patiently asked, “Why not Oz?”

“Because… it hurts.”

“Boy, the pain will go away after awhile. You should stick to it.” Edna tried to soothe him, but Oz shook his head vigorously.

“I don’t want to.”

Edna sighed, drained the last of her coffee and stood — starting to clean the table, and smiled when Oz tried to help. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, “Boy, we’ll talk with your Papa when you get home. For now, you still have to drink that potion at lunch time!”

Oz nodded solemnly, though his face looked sullen. He looked wistfully out the window, only to catch a pair of amber eyes staring at him through the glass. He almost dropped the dish in fright, but when he looked again, the eyes were gone. His head turned as he heard the sound of footsteps as someone moved slowly from the window sill to the door.

“Mom! There’s a scary man outside!”

The sound of shoe on stone tile softly emanated from the entrance of the house.

“Hmmm… what’s that darling?” Edna was only half listening as she turned on the tap. Washing the dished with a do-rag.

Oz started bouncing on his feet, “Mom, there’s —”

Knock knock. The washing of dishes paused. And the water stopped running.

Edna frowned and said, “I wonder who that could be?”

The sound of a fist thumping against the door interrupted Oz’s sentence. He tried to tug at Edna’s apron as she walked to the door, but she just shushed him. He tried again to pull her away from the door, but to no avail. Those eyes, those yellow eyes, they haunted his feverish dreams. Edna pushed Oz away gently with a laugh. "Calm down boy, now let's see this bogeyman of yours."

She looked through the peephole and her face went white.