The humans had no defenses.
The air in the basement was damp and musty. Stilas ran his hand across a dresser packed against a treadmill. Judging by the amount of dust between his forefinger and thumb, no one had been down here for a long time. Soft thumps on the ceiling told him that there was someone upstairs. A scream told him that there were at least two someones. He wove his way through the clutter to the wooden stairs. As he stepped on the creaky step the house trembled. Someone upstairs was using Earth Elementalist powers.
Stilas shifted his weight to his toes and tip-toed up the stairs. Gruff voices rang through the wooden door at the top of the stairs. He grabbed the handle and twisted it. The door creaked as it opened.
“Someboy’s at the back door!” The rough voice said,
“I got it.” A second male voice answered. The cock of a shotgun being pumped followed.
Stilas rolled his eyes as he pushed open the door and walked into the kitchen. With a flick of his pen, a purple bubble materialized in front of him. Buckshot pelted the shield and burnt gunpowder filled the air as the sound of the shot exploded in his ears.
“What the-?” The thug hefted the shotgun to shoot again
Stilas glanced over at the thug. Torn shirt and jeans. Brown work boots. Dirt was smudged over his white skin and littered his brown hair.
Stilas looked into the thug’s green eyes, “Dwarf hybrid.” He spat with disdain as he flicked his pen.
The shotgun slammed out of the thug’s right hand and into the refrigerator. A second flick of the pen knocked the thug on his rear.
The thug crawled sideways into the dining room. He grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it over, dumping the food that had been stacked there on the floor.
Stilas walked in between the stove and the bar to the entrance of the dining room. He stepped on a box of cereal as he leveled his pen at the table.
“Hey!” the first voice yelled
Stilas turned to his left. The second thug was dressed in the same worn-out clothes as the one that he had just fought. The thug had the same dirty brown hair and disgusting green eyes. The thing that surprised him wasn’t the fireball in the thug’s left hand. Instead, it was the ten-year-old girl that the thug was holding in front of him as a shield.
The girl was wearing a pink shirt that was way too tight to move around comfortably. Shorts that revealed too much skin were trying to cover little legs that were stretching as long as they could. Her toes struggled to grab the carpet in a vain attempt to pull herself down. Her clean, white skin was becoming soiled by the grime of her captor. The struggle that she was doing now was probably the most work that she had done in her entire life, even with the chaos that was erupting around them. He guessed that she was probably the baby of the family. The one thing that he did recognize was the fear in her blue eyes. Like a kitten caught between two bulldogs, fear was oozing out of her.
“Put it down,” The thug cocked back his arm
Stilas finally noticed the stench of death in the room. There was a couch to his left that he couldn’t see behind and a hallway beyond that. He didn’t know what had died, but he had a feeling that somewhere to his left was the rest of the girl’s family.
The fireball flew through the air. It exploded against the shield in front of Stilas, sending a shower of flames to the carpet. Little fires sprouted on the floor and began to eat away at the carpet.
“Who are you?” The thug demanded as he pulled the girl tighter.
Stilas motioned at the flames in front of him. As he twisted his hand, the flames jumped from the carpet into the air. Stilas clenched his fist and the flames died.
“Let her go,” Stilas demanded
The thug blinked. An evil half grin split his lips. “You like her.”
Stilas pointed his pen at the thug. “Down.”
The thug fell backward and dropped the girl. She clawed at the carpet as she scampered behind a wooden rocking chair.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
A thump on the back of his head caused the Dark Mage to blink. He had forgotten about the other thug.
Stilas turned around. The shield had absorbed the blow, but it irritated him that he had let his guard down. He flexed his right hand and the glove covering that hand slipped off. He knocked the chair leg out of the thug’s hands and grabbed his face with his right hand. With a small bit of magic focus and the thug collapsed to the floor.
Stilas knelt down and stabbed the thug in the arm. He reached into his pocket and dropped the marble into the blood that was pooling on the floor. This time when the marble absorbed the blood it stayed red. He smiled as he drew the curse mark on the thug’s forehead and banished him to the dimensional pocket. He whistled a happy tune as he walked over to the other thug and repeated the process.
With the danger gone, he walked over to the groceries on the floor and picked up an apple. He bit into it as he looked around.
The front door had been kicked in. The thugs had probably done that when they entered. He walked down the hall. There were four doors in the hallway. Two on the right opened to bedrooms. The first one on the left went to the bathroom, while the last door on the left belonged to the master bedroom.
Stilas walked to the master bedroom. The smell of death was strong enough that it almost knocked him off his feet. He gripped his pen tightly as he surveyed the room. Sure enough, three bodies were lying on the floor, all three of them with bullet holes. He breathed through his mouth as he bent down and checked for an Elemental, but they had been dead for too long. Plus they hadn’t been very strong, that was the only explanation for the Elementals to have dissipated already.
“Such a waste,” Stilas mumbled as he looked around. The bodies didn’t interest him. What he hoped got left behind did. There was still a chance of a small Elemental to be hiding close.
The drawers of the dressers were flipped upside-down on the bed, and clothes were scattered randomly around the room. Broken glass from what used to be a mirror was under one of the closet doors. But there was no Elemental that Stilas could see. It wasn’t really unexpected. Very few Elementalists would leave behind an Elemental when they died without help from a magical source.
Stilas walked back into the living room. The girl was still whimpering behind the chair.
“Please don’t hurt me.” The girl begged
Stilas threw his apple core out the door, “Get out.”
The girl’s eyes widened as she whipped tears from her face with the back of her hands, “You’re not going to kill me?”
“Why would I kill you?” Stilas asked as he sat down on the couch and fiddled with the TV remote.
The girl crawled out from behind the rocking chair and pressed the power button on the remote. A reporter appeared on the screen behind them. He began talking about the rules for martial law.
“Thank you.” The girl whispered as she touched Stilas’ tattoo
The Dark Mage glared at the girl, “For what?”
The girl pointed at the thug’s clothes, “You killed the bad men.”
Stilas grabbed the girl by the shoulders, “I’m one of the bad men.” He nodded at the door, “You need to leave.”
“Where can I go?” A tear appeared in the girl’s eyes, “They killed momma. And Daddy. And Sissy”
Stilas sighed. He really did not want to deal with a crying kid. “Go anywhere. You need to get away from here.”
“I want to stay with you.” The girl grabbed his arm.
Stilas peeled the girl off of him, “You can’t stay with me.” He nodded at the clothes piles, “I’m like the bad men. I kill people.”
The girl looked up at Stilas, her eyes full of hope. “You didn’t kill me.”
“I don’t kill kids,” Stilas stood up, “Give yourself a few years and I’d take your Elemental.” He noticed goosebumps on the girl’s arm, “Just like I took your brother’s.”
The girl bit her lip and then raised her fist. “NO!” she screamed as she pounded on his chest.
Stilas tapped the girl on the forehead. She sank to the ground. He might not kill kids, but nothing said that he couldn’t knock them out. He turned back to the TV. The reporter had moved on to how the people who were using their powers were being rounded up, sedated, and held in camps.
“Well.” Stilas grinned, “This takes all the fun out of hunting.”
He yawned. He needed to find a place to sleep for the night. He looked down at the girl, unconscious at his feet. There was no way he was sleeping in this house tonight.
He got up and walked to the window. Every house on the block looked about the same. Red brick exterior with white picket fences and clean green lawns. There was only one house that had its lights on. The other six were dark. He picked up the sack of food on the floor. The sound of the girl whimpering in her sleep kept him from slinging it over his shoulder. He fished out an apple, then dropped the sack back on the floor.
Stilas flipped up the hood of his jacket as he walked to the door. He picked up the door with his left hand and ran the pen in his right over the hinges. The broken hinges fused back into the doorframe as magic knit them together.
He closed the door and tapped the lock with his pen. The lock snapped with a click.
He turned and walked down the porch and to the street. He tapped his pen in his hand three times as he cast a spell to check for life in the dark houses. The spell quickly told him that every one of the dark houses was empty. He walked across the street and tapped his pen on the lock of the door. The lock clicked as the door opened and he walked in. He glanced at the house behind him one last time as he walked inside, the girl would be safer away from him. It was time for some sleep and he had hunting to do in the morning.