Firstborn (The Legacy Series) (3 page)

In case you don’t already know, magic users are divided in one of three categories. First, you got the Practitioners or Adepts − the guys who can pull a spell or two, but are usually the textbook magicians. Then you get Wizards. These guys got major power and can use every spell out there – as long as they practice enough and have enough juice to back it up. Finally, there are the Specialists. These guys are nuclear-powered in comparison to the others, but can only use one category of magic. Warlocks fall under this category.

My family has always been Warlocks. We even have a creepy mansion in the middle of the forest. Very apt for Specialists considered the black sheep of the magical arts. Beneath the Ashendale manor is a sub-basement which houses some of our
…experiments.

Yeah, not cool.

The only thing worse than having those things down there imprisoned is having them running free. There are some horrors which could easily destroy life as we know it − a Crocatoan virus which may or may not have been the real cause of the Black Plague, an ancient forest spirit which can render a city as large as New York into a giant, uninhabitable forest, and a particularly ambitious Skinwalker who had the bright idea to kill a president and impersonate him. Only flaw was that the president had already been reported dead in the media.

But you get the idea. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if Cthulhu and Lord
Voldemort were locked up down there.

“How did they escape?” There it was
, the million dollar question, and I had to go ahead and ask it.

Gil took a moment before answering. “It’s unlikely that any of the guests
down there managed to open the gates themselves. Our security systems were breached by someone who is intimately familiar with them. Whoever it was simply picked the locks open and disabled all the security, magical and otherwise. They even managed to hack into two of our bank accounts. Luckily, I keep sixteen open at all times and in different locations. But I digress.” She bore her green eyes into me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

“It seems we have a traitor in our midst,” she said, her voice quivering slightly with carefully controlled rage. My sister doesn’t take losing all that well.

“A traitor?” I echoed.

“Why do you think she’s
travelling with extras from Men in Black and her watchdog following her around?” interjected Amaymon.

The butler grinned. “I thought the cat got your tongue, brother.”

Meet Mephisto – butler, Gil’s familiar and Amaymon’s brother. He’s an air elemental and, just to prove that demons have no sense of irony, his animal form is a large, black dog.

“Bite me, jackass,” replied Amaymon with a hiss.

Mephisto’s form shimmered and a black canine the size of a small bear bared its fangs at the cat. “Gladly.”

“Enough
, Mephistopheles,” ordered Gil. “Behave yourself.”

The dog transformed again and the butler took a step back, sulking.

“So, what’s with the suits?” I asked Gil as I pointed at the two bodyguards.

The more I looked at them, the more I realized something was off with them. For one thing, there was a faint emission of light from their skin. I concentrated harder, forcing my eyes to look beyond their physical bodies and at their magical forms. There was an explosion of light before my eyes started burning. I caught a faint glimpse of wings and pure white feathers.

“Angels?”

It wasn’t a question so much as a statement of how dumb my sister could be at times.
You do not mess around with angels, or demons for that matter. Sure, their dimensions of Heaven and Hell were of opposite sides of our dimension, but we do not interfere to communicate. Those guys have been at war since the beginning of time – if that war moved to our reality, chances are all of us would end up collateral damage.

“Since when do you employ angels?”

“Calm down, Erik. There is an explanation,” Gil replied.

“Better be a damn good one. You know as well as I do that those things can’t be controlled.”

Angels aren’t exactly what they’re cut out to be.

I mean
, sure, they light up and bring joy to the kids but they are ruthless soldiers, first and foremost. They smite whoever and whatever they consider impure – and former Warlocks with no qualms about toeing the line tend to be at the top of their hit lists.

“Is there an apocalypse I should know about?” Amaymon asked. I wish he were kidding. When angels come over, it means something big is about to happen.

Apocalypse big.

“These angels are merely on loan from a higher power. I had to invoke some assistance in order to deal with this issue,” replied Gil.

I shrugged. “Whatever mess you got yourself into is not my problem.” I jabbed an accusing finger at her. “And don’t come whining to me when this comes back to bite you in the ass.”

“I will deal with my own problems. In the meantime, I have a job for you,” she said as she rummaged in her coat. She pulled out a thick roll of bills and set it of the coffee table. “This is a down payment for the capture of a Behemoth-type demon. My resources are spread too thin and this monster will be troublesome. Do you accept?”

I barely heard what she said. I was too bust drooling over the cash.

“Yes,” I heard myself say.

“Behemoths tend to possess and mutate animals. Maybe you could check out the park or an animal shelter,” said Amaymon.

“Yeah.”

Gil rose. “Whatever you do, your mission is search and destroy. Get rid of it.” Her voice was stone cold and authoritative.

Man, I’ve always wanted a voice like that. Maybe I could finally get the cat to stop scratching at every stick of furniture around here. Gil and her entourage left without another word.

Amaymon was the first to break the silence after they left. “A traitor? Like that place needs any more drama and back-stabbing.”

I produced a fresh soda can, sat down next to him and drank heartily. I remember visiting our zoo as part of my training when we were kids.

Gil was right − this stank of foul play. One can’t just walk up into the mansion. Magical barriers subconsciously repel any hikers. A team of wizard mercenaries protects the mansion on a twenty-four hour watch. That place was more secure than Fort Knox and the Pentagon put together.

The zoo is located in the basement, two floors below the ground. Everyone visiting must go through a series of checks where all, family members included, must face a retina scan, hand-scanner, voice recognition scans, and squeeze a couple of blood droplets into a hole where it is then compared with the blood of other family members. Not exactly a
vacation spot.

If all else fails, there’s always Mephisto. Gil’s familiar is a hunter
. If unleashed, he’ll track whatever disturbance there is and, depending on his mood, he’ll either kill and then rip the body apart, or vice-versa. Honestly, I would prefer being shot and burned by the ninja wizards.

“Yeah. But it does raise the question,” I said. “How did they get out? I mean, I grew up there and even I doubt I could have made it out. The only way those monsters could have
escaped is with a map and a tour guide.”

“Agreed,” said the cat. “By the way, what’s up with you? You’re all jump
y and stuff.”

“What?”

Amaymon flicked his tail in annoyance. “Dude, I’m a demon, and despite being in the same room as two angels, I wasn’t the one lashing out.”

“I didn’t lash out.”

“OK, you had a hissy fit. Whatever. Just tell me what happened at that school that got you all grouchy.”

So
, I told him. I gave him every single detail, including the mutated Lizardman that poked an extra hole in me.

“Yeah, that sounds just about right,” he said. “What you described sounds a lot like a forced mutation. Someone got hold of a pack of Lizardmen and played around with their genetics. Question is
, why?”

I shrugged.

“Erik, who do the police call when something weird happens in this town?”

“Me,” I replied.

“Exactly,” he said. “What if whoever it is has a bone to pick with you?”

“Huh?”

“Think about it. Is there any reason why a bunch of monsters would attack a school?” His eyes poured into mine. “They didn’t kill the kids and they never touched the officers. They were waiting for someone to enter the school. And the only one crazy enough to do so is you. That whole thing was a trap − a test, if you will.”

“So
, if someone’s got beef with me why not just come out directly?”

“Erik, you’re nearly immortal. You heal instantly and your magical capacity rivals mine on your best day. Whoever it is doesn’t want a clean fight.”

I felt the headache come back. “So, what do I do now?”

Amaymon chuckled. “What you always do. Rub people the wrong way and fight your way out.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“You know, I could always help out,” he said hopefully. “Especially if I had some power.”

Amaymon’s demon power is sealed inside a ruby pendant I wear around my neck at all times. If I put it on his collar and give him back his power, Amaymon goes back to his former badass self. He’s handy in a pinch but there’s a huge chance he’ll destroy everything else in the process.

The guy just loves chaos and destruction.

“Not yet,” I said. “I’ll call you if I need backup.”

Amaymon hisse
d. “Man, sometimes you can be a real −” I glared at him, daring him to continue.

“-mew.”

I reached down and scratched his chin. “Clean up in here will you, kitty cat?”

“You know I hate that nickname,” he replied as he purred.

I stood up and put on my coat and equipment. Time to go back to work.

“Don’t burn the place down
, OK?” I called to the cat.

“No promises.”

And with that reassuring statement, I made my way to my favorite blacksmith.

5

"What. Did you. Do?”

Bobby glared at me from behind the counter and looked at the remnants of my guns with something close to tears.

“Nothing.” I tried my best to hide my face behind the glass of iced tea he provided me.

The wizened old blacksmith put his hands on his hips. He looked like a headmaster berating a student.

“You were up to you
r mumbo-jumbo thing weren’t you?”

Well, at least he didn’t call it voodoo or
weird crap
. Suppose that’s an improvement from the rest of the people around here.

“It’s called
work
Bobby.” His look didn’t change.

“Yeah,” I said in surrender. “The mumbo-jumbo.”

The old man shook his head in disapproval. “That’s the last time I give you new guns. From now on you get the bootlegs.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“And I damn well mean it this time, boy.”

Bobby is a genius with guns. He could take an inch of rusting iron and two ounces of copper and whip up a fully functional machine gun.

He’s an artist – and those guys always get too attached to their work. I don’t score any points by coming in nearly twice a month for a new gun, dumping the scrap metal of the old ones.

Bo
bby gave me one last disapproving look and went over to his workbench. “Here’s your new piece.”

He placed a flintlock on the bench. It had been refurbished with modern parts and had a box magazine locked in place in front of the trigger guard.

I blinked twice at Bobby. “Seriously?”

Bobby nodded.

"What the hell is that thing?" My voice was more high-pitched than usual.

Bobby cocked an eyebrow. "It's a heavily modified flintlock. This thing right here is the sturdiest gun in the whole store. It's custom-built for durability, so you can use it for whatever it is you do. That box mag takes shotgun rounds, so unless you're going up against an elephant, you're fine."

I cocked an eyebrow at the weapon.

"It's all I got left, boy. Take it or leave it," said Bobby in his headmaster voice again.

I snatched the gun up. "Thanks, Bobby," I said sincerely.

*****

For a giant, monstrous demon that possesses and deforms animals, the Behemoth was damn hard to find. I spent over an entire afternoon going from one animal shelter to another, but still no sign of the Behemoth. I mean seriously, how hard can it be to find a couple of Jumanji monsters?

I was just about to give up and head home. Maybe resume the hunt tomorrow – right after I found a suitable holster for the flintlock. The chunky gun hung inside the waistband of my trousers, making me look like an extra from Pirates of the Caribbean.

I kept fidgeting with it, trying to somehow find a comfortable position. Do you have any idea how emasculating it is for a man to know that the bulge in his pants has nothing to do with his manhood?